Everlasting Desire
Page 16

Megan waved as the car pulled out of the driveway, and then went back to bed, only to get up an hour later. She made her bed, fixed breakfast, did the dishes, and got dressed, and it was only eight thirty.
She had expected to enjoy having the place all to herself for a few days; instead, she was overcome with a feeling of depression. Even though there were days when Megan didn’t see Shirl at all, it was comforting to know that, sooner or later, Shirl would come home from work and there would be another warm body in the house.
The day stretched before her. At loose ends, Megan went to the local day spa and indulged herself—she had a facial and a full body massage, swam in the heated pool, spent some time in the meditation garden before leaving for home. On the way, she stopped and picked up some Chinese takeout for dinner.
When she reached home, it was only six o’clock. Would this day never end?
The house seemed incredibly empty without Shirl. After eating, Megan went upstairs to take a shower, donned her favorite pj’s, and then went downstairs. Curling up on the sofa, hugging a pillow to her chest, she surfed through the channels.
“Five hundred channels,” she muttered, “and there’s nothing worth watching.”
As always, she eventually found her thoughts turning toward Rhys. How did she really feel about him? She had told Shirl she thought he was hiding something, but what? The most likely secret would be a wife. Or worse, a wife and a couple of kids. Maybe it was something even more damning. Lord, what if he was a sex offender or a felon? He certainly knew how to take care of himself. He had taken those two would-be robbers at Shore’s down in the blink of an eye. And then there was his quick thinking at the concert. She still didn’t know how he had gotten the two of them out of that burning building without a scratch.
She drummed her fingertips on the arm of the sofa. Where had he learned to react to danger with such blinding speed? Maybe he belonged to some Special Ops organization, or the CIA, or maybe the DEA. Maybe he taught martial arts. She blew out a sigh. Maybe she’d never know.
She was thinking about going to bed when the doorbell rang. Her heartbeat immediately jumped into overdrive.
It was Rhys. She knew it with every fiber of her being. She wished fleetingly that she was wearing something more alluring than pj’s and a tank top, but there was no help for it now.
She forced herself to take three slow, deep breaths before she opened the door. And he was there. Dressed all in black, he blended with the shadows, a part of the night and the darkness.
“Megan.” His voice, soft and low, yet filled with heat and desire. It wrapped around her, seeping into her very being. “I thought you might like some company.”
“What makes you think I’m alone?”
“Didn’t Shirl leave town this morning?”
“Yes, but how did you know that?”
“She must have mentioned it the other night, after you fell asleep.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue.
“Oh. Well, come on in. To tell you the truth, I was feeling a little lonely.”
He followed her into the living room, sat beside her on the sofa. Not too close. He was well aware of her ambivalent feelings toward him. It was time to reestablish trust, assure her that she had nothing to fear. He jerked his chin toward the TV. “What are you watching?”
“Nothing, really. I was about to turn it off.”
“Why not put some music on?”
“All right.” She found an all-music channel that played soft rock.
“Would you care to dance?”
“What? Here, now?”
“Why not here?” Rising, he reached for her hand.
Why not, indeed, Megan thought. Putting her hand in his, she let him pull her to her feet.
Dancing with Rhys wasn’t like dancing with anyone else. He moved effortlessly, fluidly. She wasn’t any great shakes as a dancer, but he held her so close, it didn’t matter. Her body moved with his as though they had danced together for years instead of only once before. But dancing at the club hadn’t been anything like this. They were alone now, just the two of them. It was exhilarating, being in his arms, feeling his breath against her cheek, seeing the heat in his eyes. She had once heard someone describe dancing as vertical sex. With Rhys, it was definitely true. Her hormones sat up and took notice every time his body brushed against hers.
“You’re trembling,” he remarked.
“Am I?”
“Are you cold?”
“No.” How could she be when he was looking at her with such blatant desire?
“Afraid?”
She blinked up at him. She was afraid, afraid she would wake up in her bed and discover that this was only a dream. Afraid that when the music stopped, he would disappear. But she couldn’t tell him that.
The music changed to something slow and sensual. His arms tightened around her, drawing her even closer. “Megan?”
“Kiss me, Rhys.”
If her request surprised him, it didn’t show.
She closed her eyes as he bent his head toward her. Her heart slammed against her rib cage when his lips met hers. Heat flowed through every nerve and cell, turning her blood to fire, threatening to melt her bones.
“Ah, Megan, do you know what you do to me?” His gaze moved to the pulse throbbing wildly in the hollow of her throat. The rapid pounding of her heart was like the beat of a drum only he could hear. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is not to…” Muttering an oath, he released her and stepped away.
Confused, she wrapped her arms around her waist to keep from reaching for him. Had she done something wrong? Displeased him in some way? Disappointed him?
Seeing her bewildered expression, Rhys drew her back into his embrace. If he was smart, he would leave now and never see her again. The longer he was with her, the harder it would be to let her go. Even though he cared deeply for her, he knew, realistically, that there was no future for the two of them.
There was no denying that she was attracted to him, but then, most women were. He had no way of knowing how much of that attraction was due to the inherent allure all vampires possessed, and how much was genuine affection.
For his part, he hadn’t felt this way about a woman since Josette. Closing his eyes, he opened his senses, basking in the feel of the woman in his arms, the flowery perfume of her hair, the musky scent of her skin.
She wanted him.
But no more than he wanted her. “Megan?”
He liked it that she didn’t pretend she didn’t know what he was asking.
A flush crept up her neck and into her cheeks as she took his hand in hers and led him up the stairs to her bedroom.
Once in her room, Megan was overcome with uncertainty. What was she doing? Did she really want to hop into bed with a man she had known for such a short time? A man she had been having serious doubts about only yesterday? Even thinking about taking him to bed was totally out of character for her. Still, she was a big girl, and it had been a long time since she’d had this particular itch scratched.
“Megan?” His voice surrounded her, winding around her like a silken web from which there was no escape.
She shivered with pleasure as he bestowed featherlight kisses along the side of her neck, along her collarbone to the hollow of her throat. Yes, this was what she wanted. This man. Right now.
For once in her life, she was going to leap before she looked. For once in her life, she wasn’t going to play it safe.
As if he knew she had resolved her inner conflict, he pulled her up against him, his hand sliding seductively up and down her spine.
She had to touch him. Tugging his T-shirt from his jeans, she ran her hands over his chest, felt his muscles tense at her touch.
Still holding her against him, he backed her toward the bed and then, supporting her with his arms, he lowered her to the mattress before stretching out beside her.
“Rhys…” Murmuring his name, she explored the width of his shoulders, the taut planes and ridges of his chest and belly.
Knowing what she wanted, he yanked his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, giving her access to his upper body.
Turning onto her side, she explored the width of his shoulders, the whorls of curly hair on his chest, the hard ridges of his stomach. She paused now and then to kiss him here, lick him there. Growing bolder, she pulled off his boots and his socks, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, she tugged his jeans down over his slim hips. The black briefs he wore did nothing to hide the fact that he wanted her.
He let her explore his body from head to foot, and then he turned the tables on her. “My turn,” he said, his voice thick, and in the time it took her to blink, she was lying naked beneath him, and he had begun a slow exploration of his own.
His hands were large yet gentle as they played over her quivering flesh. The touch of his cool skin did nothing to douse the flames that threatened to consume her from the inside out. Each stroke of his hands, each heated caress, carried her to a place where she had never been before, a place she hoped never to leave. She had made love in the past, but it had never been like this. Never before had she so desperately wanted or needed a man’s touch. Never before had she known such wonder, such pleasure.
He murmured her name as he shucked his briefs, and then he rose over her, blatantly male and aroused.
With a throaty growl, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and lifted her hips to meet him.
One thrust, and she felt like she might shatter. She clung to him as the world spun out of focus. Never had she been so aware of her own body, or felt so vibrantly alive. She had heard of two bodies becoming one, but their joining went beyond that. It was as if their hearts and souls had seamlessly melded, so that she knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling. She knew where he wanted to be touched, just as he seemed to know exactly how to please her.
And please her he did, with every caress, every murmured word, until one last thrust carried her over the edge to blissful fulfillment.
Sated and complete, she murmured his name and then, with a sigh, she closed her eyes and fell into the warm abyss of slumber.