A Vampire for Christmas(74)
Then let us not waste this moment,” he replied, lifting his hand and dragging his fingers along the smooth skin in the enticing V of her pale lavender blouse. The hue accentuated the color of her eyes, making them appear an even more striking green. He repeatedly ran his thumb up and down the silkiness of her skin and watched the emerald color darken in passion.
Please, Damien. I only have an hour for lunch,” she complained, although the playful tone of her voice was hard to miss.
He relented and, with a slight tug, undid the bow holding the butterfly blouse closed. As the fabric draped open, it exposed more of the cleavage between her generous breasts. Dipping one finger beneath the fabric, he traced the full swells above the lace cups of her bra and smiled as her nipples puckered beneath his caress. The hard points were noticeably visible through her brassiere and the gauzy cotton of the blouse.
He shifted his hand to stroke his thumb across the peaked tip and she sighed her pleasure.
He met her gaze then, different and yet the same. That exotic tilt at the edge of her eyes was not as severe as before and her skin was a trifle lighter in color. Her pupils widened when he took the hard tip of her breast between his thumb and forefinger, rotating it gently.
Her emerald eyes were brighter this time, not as tired-looking. Her face had a little more fullness, and a becoming and healthy blush blossomed on her smooth skin at his caress. This Angelina was full of life, maybe slightly younger.
Still incredibly beautiful. Alluring, he thought as he bent his head to the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.
Summer and flowers. Home, he thought again before kissing that spot. He nuzzled her neck with his nose, moving upward to rub it along the shell of her ear while he cupped her breasts.
You are so lovely. So innocent,” he whispered and she swayed toward him, resting her hands against his chest.
Touch me,” he urged, needing to feel the softness of her hands on him. Wanting to feel her warmth, he quickly parted the flowing fabric of her blouse, exposing more of her flesh.
She grew reticent then, pulling the gaping fabric closed to hide her breasts beneath the flimsy bra she wore. He recalled then what he had not known at the time.
This Angelina had been a virgin the first and only time he had taken her.
During all of their earlier encounters over the week before this Christmas Eve, marvelous intense moments, they had not progressed to the point where today seemed to be leading.
To the bed just a few feet away.
I will be gentle,” he promised and unlike the Damien of the past, he meant it. She was too precious to hurt. Too special to treat without care.
She locked her gaze with his and murmured, “I trust you.”
He wanted to tell her not to trust. Not to believe in him because he could offer only pain and no future. He was a vampire, and she was mortal. He was painfully reminded of that fact as he laid his hands over hers and urged them from their grip on her blouse.
She splayed her hands on his chest, and he rubbed his hands over hers. Shifted them to his shirt where she hesitantly undid the buttons. She let the fabric drift open to reveal the defined ridges of his chest and abdomen.
Touch me,” he said, inviting her to take the lead in their lovemaking.
She shot him a half glance where hesitation and desire battled. Desire quickly won out.
She edged her hands beneath the smooth and expensive linen of his shirt. The proceeds of his rum-running allowed him many fine things. Things he wanted to share with her, only she was too proud to take charity.
You’re cold,” she said, after placing her hands on the swell of his pectorals.
The vampire’s chill, he thought, and released a bit of the demon to heat up his skin.
I was out on the water until you arrived,” he lied, not wanting to reveal to her what he was. Afraid that if he did so, she would leave him. She had eased so much of his loneliness that he couldn’t bear the thought of her not being in his life. But he also hated that their time together was tainted by his lie.
Can love truly exist if it’s based on lies? The Angelina he was coming to understand was the voice of his conscience intruded into his thoughts.
It is love, he shot back, not wanting to lose a minute of the vision and the happiness he had once had.
He inched his fingers beneath the thin cotton of her blouse and ran the back of his hand along the smooth skin at her waist. “But you’re nice and warm,” he said, trying to divert this Angelina’s attention from the nervousness she might be feeling.
Leisurely, he shifted his hand upward until he was just beneath her breasts. Not wanting to spook her, he looked at her and softly asked, “May I touch you?”