Stroke of Midnight (Nightcreature #1.5)(59)

The way she watched him intently was something he could feel without opening his eyes. The heat from her stare entered his pores. He glanced up and saw her gaze rake down his throat so hotly that he almost closed his eyes, this time in pleasure.

Her expression was innocence and hunger. She licked her bottom lip. It made his mouth water and sent the burn racing across his skin, awakening erogenous zones he didn't even know he had.

He told himself it had to be the liquor talking, or the adrenaline still humming in his veins. But the look she gave him made him want to touch her so badly that the hairs were standing up on his arms. He could feel his nipples harden. They stung every time he took a breath and brushed the rough inside fabric of his vest. He was glad he had his axe on his lap. She didn't need to see the erection he was sporting. He didn't want to offend, scare, or disrespect her. He continued to play and his fingers almost stumbled when her gaze slid down his chest and settled on his hands.

She couldn't breathe. This man was stopping time with his beautiful music. She could feel the creative energy in his bloodstream, linking to hers and washing through her veins, creating an ache to lie with him. The beat of his pulse was maddening, driving another hunger within her to the surface. No, not him and not tonight. Never. This man with a good heart didn't deserve that. But soon she would have to leave him to feed.

The heat of her gaze settled like a molten ache in his groin. Yet he couldn't move toward her or away from her. He watched her lids lower to half-mast and his cock twitched. That's when he stopped playing, shut his eyes, and swallowed hard.

He carefully set aside his guitar and pushed himself up and walked toward her. He knelt before her and slid his fingers into her hair. He didn't care that they could both use a shower. He didn't care where she came from or where she was going. He didn't care what she believed in, or what color her beautiful skin was. All he wanted was her mouth, and whatever else she'd allow him.

"We can't," she whispered, as he leaned in to kiss her. "We have no protection against this."

Her hand found the center of his chest, but she wasn't pushing him away, just making him pause. There was no fear in her eyes, just a warning that he knew to be true.

"You're too decent a man to get trapped in a life like that," she said gently, shaking her head.

It was the truth; not that he felt he was a good man, but the part about being trapped. He'd never wanted to be the kind of man who had kids somewhere, a bounty for child support on his head, and guilt on his conscience. But at this very moment, all those issues seemed remote. She didn't understand that his sense of self-preservation and pride had been stripped, leaving him naked and aching before her. All rational thought had left him. The very fact that she cared about his future only caused him to want her more. But he also cared deeply about her future and he forced himself to pull away.

He dropped his hand away from her hair and sat back on the ground with a thud, looking at his boots. No woman had ever cared about his future. None of the others had ever given a rat's ass about anyone beyond themselves. And as his gaze found hers again, all he could think of was all the things a woman like her deserved. He wanted her to genuinely like him, respect him, not think he was just what people had said—some sort of lawless animal who lived only for the next thrill.

Then she got up and came to him, touched his face and traced his mouth with the pad of her thumb. Rider grabbed her wrist and kissed the center of her palm.

"I'll pull out. I promise." He looked at her, not breaking eye contact as he spoke, hoping that she'd work with their circumstances. The fact that she hesitated gave him a flicker of hope that there might be a chance, which only made his heart beat faster. "I swear to God."

She smiled and drew back her hand. "That's just the thing… I might not let you."

"I'll take my chances," he said after a moment and held his breath for her response. Oh, God, he'd never begged a woman like this in his life.

"I can't let you do that, man with a good heart. The result would kill you. Trust me, that much I know."

With that she stood and walked to the other side of the dying fire. She might as well have cut him and left him bleeding by the side of the road. He wasn't about to force her, had never done anything like that in his life. But he watched her intently, for a sign, any signal that she might change her mind. Please let her change her mind. Because, right now, if she wanted to trap him, she could. He'd go willingly down whatever path she wanted him to go.

She looked up at him like she'd just heard the thought. Unless his mind was playing tricks on him, he was sure he'd seen her shudder. He could sense her deep conflict. If she were feeling half of what was running through him, then she'd err on the side of reckless abandon and just go for it. He was ready to throw caution to the wind. Truth was, he'd jettisoned it about an hour ago.

Oh, Rider… you don't understand. Temptation tugged at her, nearly seducing her. To throw caution to the wind would be so irresponsible. But as he sat there, hope flickering in his eyes, his inhalations becoming shallow sips, she almost gave in to his offer. It took everything in her not to open the blanket for him to join her. She'd never been with a man before, not like this, when nature was simply taking its course. And with him under the stars, and his song still vibrating within her… She sucked in a deep breath, ashamed at the shudder of arousal that claimed her. Worry filled her as she watched it ripple through him, too. It was in his eyes, something that went beyond intense arousal. A knowing resonated in her core. If the man got up and came to her, she couldn't be held responsible for her actions.