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"I'm careful."
"And I'm not?"
"You're almost casual about it. You killed Alfred last night, and you don't seem sorry."
"Should I be?"
"I would be."
I shrugged. Truth was, it did bother me a little. There might have been a way out without Alfred ending
up in a body bag. Or in the stomachs of his friends. But I'd killed him. There it was. No going back. No
changing it. No apologizing.
"It's the way I am, Richard. Live with it or get out. I'm not going to change."
"One of the reasons I wanted to date you to begin with was I thought you could take care of yourself.
You've seen them now. I think I can get out of it alive, but a regular person -- an ordinary human being --
what chance would they have?"
I just looked at him. I flashed on him with his throat torn out. Dead. But he hadn't been dead. He'd
healed. He'd lived. There'd been another man. Another human being that hadn't healed. I never wanted
to love anyone and lose them like that. Ever.
"So you got what was advertised. What's the problem?"
"I still want you. I still want to hold you. Touch you. Can you stand to touch me after what you saw last
night?" He wouldn't meet my eyes. His hair fell forward, hiding his face.
I stood up and took the step that left me looking down at him. He raised his face to me, his eyes glittered
with unshed tears. The fear in his face was raw. I had thought that what I saw last night would make a
difference between us. I flashed on Jason's unnatural strength, the sweat on Marcus's face, Gabriel with
his blood-coated mouth. But staring into Richard's face, with him close enough to touch, none of that was
real. I trusted Richard. Besides, I was armed.
I leaned over him, bending down to kiss his lips. The first kiss was gentle, chaste. He made no move to
touch me, hands in his lap. I kissed his forehead, hands combing through his long hair, so I could feel the
warmth of him against my fingers. I kissed his eyebrows, the tip of his nose, each cheek, finally his lips
again. He sighed, the breath pouring into my mouth, and I pressed my lips against his like I'd eat him from
the mouth down.
His arms wrapped around my back, hands hesitating at my waist, fingers slightly lower. His hands
jumped to my thighs, skipping all those questionable areas. I put one leg on either side of his knees, and
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found the short skirt did have its uses. I straddled his lap, didn't have to raise the skirt an inch. Richard
made a small sound of surprise. He stared at me, and his eyes were drowning deep.
I raised his sweater off his stomach, running hands against his bare flesh. "Off," I said.
He raised the sweater over his head in one movement, dropping it to the floor. I sat in his lap, staring at
his bare chest. I should have stopped right there, but I didn't want to.
I pressed my face in the bend of his neck, breathing in the smell of his skin, his hair covering my face like
a veil. I ran just the tip of my tongue in a thin line of wetness down his neck, across his collarbone.
His hands kneaded the small of my back, sliding downward. His fingers danced over my buttocks, then
up to my back. Point for him. He hadn't groped me.
"The gun, can you take it off?" He asked with his face buried in my hair.
I nodded, slipping out of the shoulder straps. I couldn't get the rest off without removing the skirt's belt.
My hands didn't seem to want to work.
Richard took my hands and placed them gently to either side. He undid the buckle and began to slide the
belt out a loop at a time. Each pull made me move just a little. I held the holstered gun while he drew the
belt free. He let the belt drop to the floor. I folded the shoulder holster carefully and laid it on the table
behind us.
I turned back to him. His face was startlingly close. His lips were soft, full. I licked the edges of his
mouth. The kiss was quick and messy. I wanted to run my mouth over other things. Down his chest.
We'd never let it go this far. Not even close.
He pulled my blouse out of the skirt, running hands over my bare back. The feel of his naked skin on
places he'd never touched before made me shudder.
"We have to stop now." I whispered it into his neck, so it wasn't completely convincing.
"What?"
"Stop." I pushed a little back from him, enough to see his face. Enough to breathe just a little. My hands
were still playing with his hair, touching his shoulders. I dropped my hands. Made myself stop. He was so [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]