Immortal Desire Page 6

  “Okay. Let’s try this. Where were you going?”

  The way his breath scalded the shell of her ear made her shiver. “Don’t know. Thought I’d figure it out on my way down.”

  “There’s nothing to figure out. You need to stay here.”

  She struggled silently against his hold. It was wasted effort in the face of his strength, but she didn’t care.

  “Take it easy, Bailey. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  But that’s just it. You will. She didn’t need a fortune-teller to spell it out. “I can’t do this with you.”

  He twitched before resettling himself against her back. “I said I’d see this through, and I will.”

  “Let me go.” Her voice broke on the last word.

  He relaxed, his weight evolving from a force of nature to a reassuring comfort. “Not happening, Bailey.”

  Every panted breath pushed out precious oxygen she couldn’t seem to recover. “Why?”

  Smoothing her hair away from her face, he rested his lips against her temple. “I can’t.”

  Can’t. There was that word again. Her throat tightened. “Don’t do this to me.”

  He eased back and turned her around.

  She stared at their bare feet. Confusion joined the emotional soup that threatened to boil over.

  Griff hooked a finger under her chin. “Look at me.”

  She forced her eyes up, the move excruciatingly slow.

  His pants had shifted and now hung dangerously low on narrow hips. Well-defined obliques created a sharp, suggestive V that disappeared beneath the waistband. Soft light cast shadows across his torso’s hard contours. The shallow valleys between pads and ropes of muscle created roadways of temptation she longed to leisurely travel. Heavy pecs sported hard nipples. The blades of his collarbones disappeared into shoulders rounded with muscle.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.

  It wasn’t a conscious decision to reach up and trace the line of his jaw. Stubble abraded her fingertips. She stopped just shy of his chin. Lips, full and firm, distracted her so much that she didn’t see him reach for her hand, only felt him gently press her fingertips more firmly against his skin.

  She closed her eyes and fought for calm before forcing herself to meet his gaze again.

  Brutal honesty rested there, cushioned firmly between sexual heat and undisguised craving. “I’m not going to let you die, and if you walk out of here? That’s what’s going to happen.”

  She looked away. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  Letting go of her fingers, he grasped her chin and turned her face to his. “I gave you my word.”

  “Which makes me a charity case.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You know better than that.”

  “Do I? You’ve made this all about obligation and keeping your word.”

  “I’m a notoriously bad communicator.” He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “Let me make it up to you, show you just how much I...” Closing his eyes, he leaned in.

  Her heart stopped.

  He turned aside and rested his cheek against hers. Voice slightly hoarse, he said, “Come back to bed, Bailey.”

  Her breath escaped in a shaky rush.

  “I want you here. With me.”

  The words were so close to what she needed to hear. But was close good enough? “Griff—”

  He slid a hand down her arm, stopping when he reached her hand.

  Her fingers laced through his.

  A gentle squeeze offered silent encouragement.

  Words were pointless. She knew she’d stay. The decision had been made when he first touched her in his office. Wanting him had been a familiar feeling for so long. Now she was here, in his arms and in his bed.

  She tightened her fingers around his and let herself fall into the moment.

  “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

  Then don’t break my heart.

  * * *

  Griff led Bailey toward the bedroom. Too close. She’d intended to leave him. The thought made his lungs seize. Air became a temporarily irretrievable, priceless commodity. That wasn’t what made his pulse thunder and black spots dance across his vision, though. He rubbed his forehead, wondered briefly if he might pass out. All because he’d almost broken his own rule and kissed her.

  She tugged at his hand when he continued through the bedroom. “Where are we going?”

  “Bathroom.”

  He didn’t pay any attention to the heated travertine floors, copper soaking tub or dark, exotic wood vanities. Nice, but they’d been the interior designer’s choices. The shower, though? That was all his doing. A thick glass face revealed a generous teak bench along the far wall. Multiple showerheads sprouted from the walls and ceiling. Brushed chrome finishes glinted under recessed overhead lights. The pebbled floor lent the space an organic feel.

  Griff let Bailey go long enough to engage the digital control panel, selecting the showerheads he wanted before programming the water temperature. Then he slipped his pants off, squared his shoulders and reached for her.

  She stepped into his embrace with unfamiliar surety, as if what had happened between them had resolved any lingering hesitations. There was trust in her actions. The realization rocked him, triggering the strangest sensation—a fluttering awareness, soft but persistent. Look at me, it seemed to say. But he couldn’t, instead squashing it with the boot heel of his determination to manage things better. He’d deal with any consequences later.

  The heavy glass door made no sound as he swung it open. “Hop in. The water temp can be adjusted using the sister control panel on that wall.”

  Bailey moved into the shower, her long, dark hair curling loosely down her back. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  He stepped in behind her. Hot water sluiced over his chest. The familiar smell of his soap was an unlikely anchor in the bog of confusion surrounding him.

  Her arms came around his waist.

  His abs tightened as he sucked in a hard, fast breath. It was the first time she’d reached for him. Anticipation settled in his pelvis, a hot and heavy weight. He closed his eyes when her hands began to roam the contours of his body. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to get lost in someone’s touch?

  The heat of her body molding itself along his back interrupted his thoughts.

  He reached behind and gripped her hips. Soft breath skated along his shoulder blades just ahead of the whisper of lips over his skin. “Bailey—”

  “Sh.” She ran her tongue down the column of his spine. “Take your own advice, Griff. Just feel.”

  He wanted to tell her that it had been bad advice, that he’d lost that ability a long time ago, but her mouth was doing invisibly wicked things that scrambled his thoughts. And her hands? They were the perfect combination of soft caresses and scraping nails.

  She moved lower, tracing a path down his front that her mouth mirrored on his back. The tip of her tongue found the hollow at the base of his spine, tracing the shallow dip before she blew cool air over heated, damp skin.

  Griff couldn’t think. Everything he wanted to say and do dissolved in a riptide of sensation. She pulled him down one languorous moment at a time.

  “Turn around.” Her husky command hardly registered in his haze of desire.

  The gentle direction of her hands was all that got him moving.

  She sucked his cock in without warning, taking him deep enough that the head bumped the back of her throat.

  His shout echoed off glass and stone. Nails dug into his ass and encouraged him to thrust into her mouth every time she descended his length. He slapped a palm against the wall. Fed his other hand through her hair. She groaned her approval. When she slid one hand between his legs and
massaged the hard ridge behind his sac, he forgot to breathe.

  His head fell back. Every fantasy he’d had of this moment paled in the face of reality. The way her tongue cupped him one moment and teased his corona the next dissolved his ability to form cohesive thoughts. Breathing turned into a shaky, shallow affair.

  She slowed the pace, shifting to gently massage his balls. Then she undid him. Wrapping her hand around his root, she slid down his length. And didn’t stop. Took him deep. So deep he felt her throat spasm around him.

  Release rushed him with more testosterone-driven force than a pro linebacker on Monday night. The magnificent burn of forewarning didn’t build. It shot down the base of his spine. There was no stopping it, though. Pleasure followed close on pain’s heels, pulsing through his cock and making the ache a sweet misery. So close. He was so close.

  Fist tightening in her hair, he managed to growl, “I’m going to come.”

  Her only response was to take him in again.

  “Bailey, if you don’t stop...if you don’t stop I’m not going to be able to...” Her finger breeched the outer ring of his ass, pressing in gently until she brushed his prostate. Then she flexed against the gland.

  The orgasm hit so hard that Griff’s eyes rolled back in his head. Bailey drew him deep. A strangled plea left his lips. He let go of her hair to cup her head. And then, hips pumping involuntarily, he gave himself over to the moment. His thighs shook, and his knees bent. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own heartbeat thundering against his eardrums like a Southern summer storm.

  A strange pull in his pelvis made his eyes flutter open as his body came back online one function at a time. The realization of what had just happened drove him to his knees.

  Bailey cupped his face in her hands. “Griff?”

  He stared at her, mute. It didn’t matter that he spoke six languages. He couldn’t have strung together the simplest of phrases if he’d had a gun at his temple. For the first time in his life, he’d achieved an orgasm without getting his partner off. Which meant he hadn’t fed. He’d been seduced, had found pleasure for pleasure’s sake. How? And what did it mean?

  “Say something,” she pleaded, tracing his lower lip with her thumb.

  Water cascaded over him like some kind of blessed benediction and he closed his eyes. Her soft touch stole his breath. What came out of his mouth made sense. It was the depth of emotion, of feelings long dormant in frozen ground that stunned him.

  All he could manage was a broken, “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Bailey stared at Griff, confused. His words were simple, yet not. The rich emotion seemed over the top. “You’re...welcome.” She had a hard time not making it a question.

  His eyes opened slowly, boring into her with breath-stealing intensity. “Your turn.”

  “I didn’t realize it was about turns,” she quipped.

  A slow, sensual smile spread across Griff’s face. “Baby, it’s not. But after that?” He paused and, for just a moment, the facade fell away.

  The raw glimpse into him stole her breath. Primal and undiluted, his expression relayed hope and hurt, desire and loneliness, longing and resignation. She’d known, known, there was so much more to him than he’d ever let anyone see, yet nothing could have prepared her for the truth. Her heart ached, recognizing each piece of him. He was suddenly a puzzle she’d solved by adding her own pieces to the mix. And wasn’t that the terrifying part? What she’d been looking for her whole life had been right here all along.

  She moved into him, cautious not to convey her desperation. They weren’t only what happened in this moment. Physical connection mattered. Pleasure shared provided what she needed. But they were so much more than this, could offer each other something so much greater.

  Arms around his waist, she rested her head against his chest. “Give me a second.”

  He wrapped her in his embrace with a tentativeness that translated through unsure hands, trembling touches and an overwhelming sense of trepidation.

  “I won’t bite.”

  “You sure about that?” His voice rumbled beneath her ear.

  She nodded, cheek to smooth chest.

  They held each other so carefully, their silence acknowledging that whatever had passed between them was as fragile as spun sugar. Time moved around them like the rush and retreat of the ocean to the shore—unyielding when facing the magnitude that came with self-realization.

  Pain drove into Bailey’s pelvis with extreme prejudice, ripping her out of Griff’s hold. Mouth gaping as she fought for air, she clutched her belly. A second assault doubled her over.

  Strong hands grabbed her shoulders. “Bailey?”

  She couldn’t manage more than a single shake of her head. Her vision wavered. It hadn’t ever hurt this bad. Surviving the Change would be impossible if this got much worse. She couldn’t take much more. A tear rolled down her nose. Hung there. Seeing it fail to hold on and fall felt so permanent. She closed her eyes.

  “Time to feed, sweetheart.” Capable arms scooped her up.

  Cold air whispered over her skin. Goose bumps rose. “I don’t know how.”

  “Trust me.”

  Could she bridge the last of the distance that existed between self-preservation and true trust? The answer she needed didn’t present itself before the next influx of pain.

  Silky sheets scraped over-stimulated skin as he settled her on his bed. She rolled onto her side as she writhed, driven half by insanity and half by clear choice. The affirmation the external pain afforded meant she was alive.

  “You ready to give this a try?”

  “Please.” The breathy answer hardly passed through her lips before Griff slid in behind her.

  He nudged her top leg forward, curling his hand under her knee and lifting. The blunt head of his cock stroked the swollen seam of her sex.

  She groaned and tried to push down.

  “Uh-uh. Let go. Feel. Trust me.” Hooking her leg over his hips, he rocked forward at the same time he stroked two fingers down either side of her clit.

  “Please.” Had she spoken aloud, or was it all in her head? The width of his thick erection stretching her walls was absolute agony. She wanted it fast and hard. Craved near violence. Release had to happen. Soon. No doubt her mind was fracturing under pain’s relentless onslaught. This position didn’t give her the freedom to move, though. She had to rely on Griff to give her what she needed. “Bastard.”

  He fed his length into her with studied control until the very end. Then he thrust forward, hard. “You undo me.” Pulling out, he eased back in, repeating the motion again and again until her walls relaxed. The rhythm he set began with long, slow strokes that fanned the flames of her hunger like well-placed bellows. He pulled his fingers away from her clit. Dug fingers into her thigh. Lifting her leg higher limited her movement even more.

  She was at his mercy. Forced to cede control. The idea caused her heart to skip a thunderous beat. Cede control. The idea of being so bare to him terrified her. A lifetime spent fighting to survive had taught her to hide, maintain control. And above all? Trust no one.

  “Stop...thinking,” he grunted. A hard thrust ground their pelvis bones together and wiped her mind clear of anything but the now. “That’s my girl.”

  The luscious tightening of her sheath said she’d find release.

  Griff hooked his arm under her leg and reached for her wrist. His grip gave him more leverage.

  She arched her back to give him better access.

  He pounded into her, unleashing the violence she craved.

  Then her heart skipped another beat. Eyes unnaturally heavy, she forced them open and tried to focus. The sounds of sex become as one-dimensional as her sight. She tried to draw a deep breath but only managed a short, hard gasp. The orgasm that had been i
mminent rolled over her, soft and soothing. Her body tightened around Griff’s cock. Her womb pulsed. His shout resonated against her back. The normally hard pulse of his orgasm didn’t register. She tried to smell Griff’s arousal. Nothing.

  Her heart skipped twice. Boom. Skipped three times. Boom. She never would have imagined an absent heartbeat would be so loud.

  Drifting, Bailey realized she didn’t hurt. Had she fed? Somehow she didn’t think so. This felt much bigger than anything she’d ever experienced before. She closed her eyes.

  When her breath shuddered out and she didn’t feel the need to draw another, she knew.

  She knew.

  Chapter Eight

  Griff’s arms tightened around Bailey when she went boneless against him. It wasn’t lost on him that he was walking the very fine line of letting this get too personal. He rested his forehead against her neck. Breaking things off wouldn’t be easy, but “The Talk” probably needed to happen now, before either of them went too far down this road. Emotional complications aside, they couldn’t feed from one another every night without destroying both themselves and each other.

  He absently pressed his lips to her shoulder, jerking back when he realized what he’d done. Maybe somebody needed to have “The Talk” with him. What a joke. He untangled himself before rolling onto his back. If he gave her his whole spiel now it might stop her from feeding. Not happening. Though it was possible she already had. One way to find out. He rested a hand on her hip and gave a gentle shake. “Did you feed?”

  No answer.

  He shook her harder. “Bailey?”

  Nothing.

  Had she passed out? Griff rose on his elbow and leaned forward. Her eyes were closed, long lashes brushing her skin.

  “Angels’ kisses,” he whispered.

  The way her lips were parted gave her a lush, well-loved look. Except...

  His brows winged down. The slight blue tinge around her mouth rocketed his heart into his throat. “Bailey!” He scrambled to his knees and rolled her over with jerky motions.