Belonging (12 page)

She now stood still staring toward the street, her back to him. He’d already decided he’d wait for her to make the first move. Maybe she would be more amenable that way? No…this was still Giselle they were talking about here. As if sensing him, she turned around. Their eyes locked through the thin fabric shrouding the window. The mask she wore to perfection snapped in place once again, but too late, for he caught a glimpse of her vulnerability. She strode to the door and rang the doorbell. Interesting…why didn’t she just flash her way in?

He took his time answering. If she could act, so could he. They’d both play the parts they’d been given. Her, the self-righteous bitch, him, the hostile fucking asshole. Both disinterested, hateful even. Never mind he’d spent the last several weeks wishing he could see her exquisite face again, taste her lips, shove his cock to the hilt in her sweet body and make her forget any man who came before him.

“Giselle,” he said politely as he stood in the open doorway trying not to openly gawk at her. She wore a cream-colored see-through blouse, her black bra standing out starkly against her fair skin. She’d paired it with a short leather mini-skirt and knee-high black leather boots.
Fucking A
, how on earth was he going to be able to hide his erection?

“Detective,” she purred, lacking her usual conviction. She was bruised and bleeding inside though she tried hiding it well. He stood silent waiting for her to make the next move. God, she really was exquisite. The mold had been obliterated after she was created.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“I wasn’t aware you needed an invitation. I thought vampires could flash anywhere at will.”

“We can, asshole. Just trying to be polite.” She breezed past him, walking into his small living room.

He held his snide reply back. It was so easy to fall into this trap with her and before they did, he really wanted to see how she was.

“By all means, make yourself at home, Giselle.” Suddenly, he was assailed with anger. He’d been calling her for three long months and she didn’t have the courtesy to even send him a damned text or email back, yet here she stood in all her glory, wanting something from him. Because let’s face it, she wasn’t a coffee girl and it was a little too fucking early for happy hour. Attraction or not, she was going to get an earful.

“Why are you here?” He was barely holding his fury in check now. He wanted to throttle and fuck her simultaneously.

“Aren’t you going to even offer me a cup of coffee or a soda? Tsk, tsk…where are your manners, Detective?”

In an instant, he had her backed up against the wall separating his kitchen and living room. He was under no illusion he could hold her there against her will, for her strength was far superior to his, but right now he didn’t give a flying fuck. Her flippant attitude was going to be excised. By his cock.

“Why didn’t you return my calls?” He held her arms tightly at her sides and ran his nose up and down her cheek, her neck, inhaling her unique citrus scent.
Jesus
, he’d missed that. He’d been eating oranges and nectarines by the bushelful in an attempt to remember how she smelled. Yes, he was beyond pathetic.

“I’m not at your beck and call, Detective,” her breathy voice replied. They still had the same effect on each other. Good to know.

He pulled back, cupping her cheeks, pinning her to the wall with his hips instead. Her spellbinding eyes grew wider. He was hard as a rock and now he wanted her to know it.

“I don’t want a fucking beck and call girl, Giselle.” Then he kissed her with all the pent up desire and frustration that had been building inside him for months. He plundered her mouth, taking everything he wanted. His hips pumped into her, hitting her sweet spot and he swallowed her moan. His tongue demanded entry into her hot mouth and he savored her taste like a death row inmate eating his last meal.

He left her mouth, tasting her neck, nibbling her ear harshly before soothing the pain with his tongue. His hands now ran wildly over her body, cupping her breasts, her ass. There wasn’t room for a sheet of paper between them, but she still wasn’t close enough. He was so caught up in her, in the fact she was finally here in the flesh that he didn’t register her tears until he caught a salty taste on his tongue. He immediately halted everything, looking into her red-rimmed eyes.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He was in a near panic as tears streamed in rivers down her splotchy face. She wasn’t even trying to hide the fact she was crying. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, trying to wipe away the waterfall, but it was like a dam had burst and he couldn’t keep up. He pulled her into his arms, but she was stiff as a board. Silent sobs wracked her body.

“Giselle, baby, I’m sorry. Please tell me what’s wrong.” He had a feeling Giselle had been buttoned up tighter than a hazardous containment unit, her emotions now in a free fall through the leak he’d created.

He bent slightly and with one arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back, picked her up and carried her to the soft, brown leather couch. She now clung to his neck like a child, openly sobbing into his shoulder as he made her comfortable in his lap. He held her tightly, gently stroking her hair, her back, and whispering over and over again that she would be okay that he was here for her as long as she needed him.

After an hour, she quieted, and only an occasional heave shook her exhausted body. Other than his consoling words, they never spoke. He knew she was sleeping when finally all tension in her body was gone, and her breathing slowed and evened out. Careful not to wake her, he gently laid them down, the wide sofa comfortable enough for their long frames. Tucking her into his side, he wrapped two protective arms around her.

No doubt when she awoke she’d be embarrassed, throwing up her walls so fast it would make his head spin. He was constantly dizzy around her, either from her barbs or his desire.

The question when she roused was…where would they go from here?

C
hapter
19

Analise

She lay on the made bed, buds in her ears, waiting for Damian to return like some lovesick puppy. Or kitten.
Christ, she was pathetic
. She should go in search of him, not wait around here for him to fetch her like some kenneled animal. But she vaguely remembered that they took many twists and turns to get to this room and she wasn’t sure she trusted herself not to get lost. She’d never been in any place like this before. Plus she was a little afraid of running into anyone else. Other vampires, for example.
So…stay put it is
.

The last twelve hours played through her mind on a continuous loop. She hadn’t let a man touch her for nearly ten years. In fact, over the last twelve hours, she’d let Damian touch her more than any other human being since she was ten years old. And that didn’t really count, because this was far different than motherly or fatherly affection.

She was wildly, absurdly attracted to him. To let him hold her while she slept took an incredible amount of trust and she hadn’t placed that kind of trust in any man. He was the first. What did that mean exactly? She was so very confused. She wanted to stay; she wanted to go. She hadn’t stopped fantasizing about him since she first set eyes on him. And she
never
fantasized about men.

Ever.

She’d had sex, unfortunately, yes, but she’d never had an orgasm. At least not given to her by another. Her right hand had become her sexual BFF, sad as that was. Orgasms by her own hand were always empty, unfulfilling and most definitely lonely. But she’d adjusted. Now, though…now that she’d had a taste of true rapture, she didn’t know if she could go back. And they hadn’t even had sex yet. She wanted more. She wanted the whole enchilada now, with a side of supreme nachos. And fried ice cream for dessert.

When he mentioned tying her to his bed, she wanted to scream, yes, yes, please yes. She had been ready to give herself completely—
well, her body anyway
—to him at that moment, consequences be damned. Never in her life had she imagined that such a thing would turn her on, but it did. Oh boy, did it ever. Then he had to go endear himself to her even more by not taking advantage of her. He could have, she would have let him. But he didn’t. And she had so much more respect—and daresay trust?—for him because of that. She had a feeling he knew exactly what he was doing in that regard.

She’d never met anyone who knew exactly the right thing to say at exactly the right time. “
You are worthy.
” How he knew to say that floored her. It was like he’d read her mind.
He’s a vampire; of course he could probably read minds, Analise.

The part that scared her, however, was how adamant he was that he was going to make her
his
. “
This…us. It’s going to happen. It’s only a matter of time and you’d best accept it. Sooner rather than later, because I honestly don’t know how long I can hold back from taking you.”
That thought both terrified and thrilled her.

As she listened to Justin Timberlake’s “Not A Bad Thing,” Damian walked in like he owned the place. What if she’d been naked? The thought made a burst of heat rush through her. Along with the familiar anger that always simmered below her surface.

“Don’t you knock? What if I’d have been naked?” she asked, pushing herself into a seated position. She wasn’t about to just jump up and act all giddy that he’d finally come for her a half hour late. Even if she was.

“I wouldn’t have minded one bit, kitten. In fact, if you want to strip right now, I certainly won’t protest.”

She threw a pillow at him, which missed by a mile. He had showered and was now wearing a fresh pair of dark blue jeans, this pair with small rips all over. His gray T-shirt stretched tautly across his chest, showing off his sinewy, sinful upper body. The short sleeves allowed her to see more of his tattoos. He had several on each arm, his biceps covered. She cursed that shirt, no matter how good it looked on him. She wanted nothing more than to see his naked chest. His naked everything.

Holy hotness
. She reached up to see if drool was running out of her mouth.

He sauntered over to the bed and scooped her iPhone off the mattress. “What are you listening to?”

She tried grabbing it and he held it high out of her reach, laughing. “Give it back.”

Instead, he unplugged her ear buds, and JT’s buttery voice resonated through the small bedroom.

She expected him to laugh, to make fun of her. Instead, he looked deeply into her eyes before he spoke the most beautiful words she’d ever heard leave someone’s lips.

“JT can go fuck himself.
I
am that man, Analise. Me. I see your brokenness, your darkness, but I also see your light and I’m drawn to it. I crave it like my next breath. I can see the shattered pieces of your soul and I will put them back together.
I
am the man to heal you, Analise. Let me heal you. Trust me to hold your heart in my hands like it’s the most precious gem in the entire universe. To protect it with my life, because I will. I will never hurt you. Piss you off, yes. But hurt you…never.”

Analise had never been much of a crier, but for the second time this morning, he’d managed to bring her to tears. She couldn’t speak past the thick lump in her throat, so she launched herself into his lap instead, hanging on for dear life. She was barely holding it together, but being in his arms was by far the safest place she’d ever felt in her life.

What is he doing to me?

“Thank you,” she managed to choke out. He held her tightly in his warm embrace.

“Kitten, you don’t have to thank me. It’s how I feel. I know this may all seem sudden to you, but you don’t understand how things work in my world. I’ll explain it all when you’re ready to hear, but know that I mean each and every word I’ve spoken to you.”

He gently drew her back, cupping her cheeks. He wiped away her tears, kissing her softly. A feeling of rightness swept over her. Like she was meant to be here, with him.

“Now, let’s go eat some breakfast before I eat you instead.” Heat crept up her neck. He certainly didn’t mince words. “Then we can discuss your friend.”

Beth
. She couldn’t forget why she was here. It wasn’t to fall into bed or in love; it was to find Beth.

She let him lead her through the large estate into an entirely different section. She refrained from asking questions, even though they were rapidly firing through her head. The house was obscenely large, ostentatious even. Who needed this much space? It was sinful really.

He led her to a large dining room, which he said was the smaller of the two. Really? This one could probably seat over twenty people. Could the other one hold an army? Ridiculous. She tried not to gawk or look like trailer trash. She didn’t want to let someone as sophisticated as Damian know how utterly
un
sophisticated she was.

There was a giant spread of breakfast options on the large, dark table. Maple was it? She wasn’t good at this stuff, having lived in abandoned warehouses, under bridges, or in cardboard boxes. Occasionally on a really cold night she’d go to the women’s shelter. She might not be any safer, but at least she’d be warm.

“Wow, is someone else joining us? This looks like a lot of food.”

“Just you and me, babe. Eat up. You look like you could use a few extra pounds.” She may be a tiny bit on the thin side, but she certainly did not need to gain any weight. She always ate as healthy as her meager salary allowed, which was sometimes challenging. But she had to admit it all looked amazing. She filled her plate with scrambled eggs, fresh fruit medley, and splurged on a powdered sugar donut. She also poured herself a nice big cup of coffee. That was a must in the morning and she was usually at least three cups in by this time.

Damian’s plate overflowed with eggs, bacon, a bagel, fruit and three different types of pastries. How on earth did he look so fine if he ate so much? He had a large glass of orange juice instead of coffee. They ate in silence. It was nice. Comfortable. After they’d finished, he took their plates away, returning after a few short minutes.