Stakes & Stilettos - Michelle Rowen [42]
I reached around and moved my dark hair away from my neck. “Bite me, Thierry. Sink your fangs into me and drink as much as you like. I want you to taste me.”
I heard a low growl and it made my body ache with desire. He brushed his mouth against my throat. “Don’t make me do this, Sarah.”
“I’m not making you do anything. You want to.”
“Yes, I want to. But—”
I pressed my throat against his mouth. “Lose control, Thierry. Lose that control you hold so closely to you. It’s the only thing with the power to keep us apart.”
His heart beat as rapidly as mine had earlier in the bathroom. “What did she do to you?”
That was a very good question. Even as I wrapped myself around Thierry’s body like a slutty anaconda, begging for him to bite my neck, I was asking myself the very same thing.
The last time he’d bit me it had almost killed me. The moment he’d tasted blood he’d lost his control, his center, that I knew he worked so hard to maintain. I was trying to make him do something he didn’t want to do, even though a part of him inside was screaming for him to do it. I knew it. I could feel it. I could taste it.
He grabbed my wrists and pushed me down onto my back on the questionably clean motel carpeting and crushed his face against my neck.
Most of me was ecstatic that I was having this effect on him, breaking down all those annoying barriers of his. But a very small piece of me was screaming inside to stop him before it was too late.
The larger part of me told the other part to shut the hell up and stop being a total party pooper.
He pulled away a little and I could see that his silver eyes had changed to black. He searched my face, perhaps for some sign that I wanted him to stop. When he saw no red flags, he lowered his face again and his teeth grazed my throat just over my pulse.
His fangs began to penetrate my skin, a small but exquisite pain, but then he stopped as if frozen in place. He pushed back and stared down at me and began shaking his head slowly. There was a look on his face that I didn’t think I’d ever seen before. I’d seen blankness. I’d seen anger. I’d seen concern and I’d seen passion.
But I’d never seen panic.
“No,” he managed. “I can’t do this.”
I tried to draw him back to me but he moved away from my touch.
“I won’t hurt you again.” His voice was barely a whisper. His eyes were pools of darkness. “There’s something wrong and we’ll figure it out, but I won’t hurt you again.”
Before I could say anything, he got to his feet and headed directly to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
I heard the lock click.
My disappointment slowly faded to disbelief.
What the hell? I looked around the room. What the hell just happened here?
But I couldn’t claim that I’d blacked out. I remembered everything.
Holy crap. I’d gone all black widow spider on him. I’d bitten him and tried to get him to bite me back.
I’d become a total biteaholic.
I crawled up onto the bed and pulled the covers over me. A sudden wave of extreme sleepiness washed over me and I only had one more thought before I fell deeply asleep.
Maybe going to my high-school reunion to feel normal again hadn’t been such a wise choice after all.
Live and learn.
Chapter 8
I pried my eyes open and looked at the digital clock next to the bed. It was ten o’clock. Almost twelve hours of sleep and I couldn’t remember a single dream, prophetic or otherwise.
A very good start.
The memory of what happened last night flooded over me. I groaned from disbelief and embarrassment and pressed my face down into the pillow. I honestly couldn’t believe I’d suddenly turned into a neck-biting nympho. But that was last night. It was over now. I felt much more centered. A good night’s sleep will do that.
“You’re awake,” a deep voice said.
I grimaced.
I peeked over the starchy white sheets at a fully dressed Thierry sitting on a chair next to the television stand. The curtains were drawn, so it was still dark in the