Hunted, The Complete Edition: A Full-length Steamy Vampire Romance (New England Nightwalkers) by Chloe Cole Page B
Authors: Chloe Cole
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place to explore their passions.
Until then? He was confident he could keep her more than satisfied.
He reached out and trailed his index finger over the back of her wrist. "You're so far away. Why don't you come sit next to me and I’ll tell you all about it?"
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she seemed to be about to ask him a question, but then stopped herself. She tossed her napkin onto the table and stood, switching to sit in the booth next to him.
She settled next to him, and for the first ten minutes she sat there, he didn't touch her. Instead, he talked about his day at the job--glossing over the parts that he'd spent looking back through old texts and documents they kept hidden in the basement vault. She was an engaged listener and he loved talking to her, but on the other hand, he couldn't deny that part of his motive wasn't so pure.
Already, she was moving imperceptibly closer to him. Pressing her hip against his, and brushing her arm against his wrist every so often as they spoke. She would glance his way, head cocked, peeking at him from beneath thick lashes. He didn’t need to read her mind to know what she was thinking.
You asked me to come closer, so why aren't you touching me?
Which was exactly what he'd wanted. One of the things he'd missed most about sex for all those celibate years had been the anticipation. The time beforehand, where everything was still a question.
Would they?
Wouldn't they?
If so, when?
Would it be fast and hard, or slow and sweet?
When he'd been turned from a man into a nightwalker, that hot as hell uncertainty had all but disappeared. Maybe it was part of the reason he'd sworn off fucking in the first place. There was no mystery. If he wanted it, he got it. It became almost tedious, with no hunt or chase or variety besides the mechanics of it.
Now, though, with Zara next to him, filling his head with the smell of cherry blossoms? It all felt new again. He felt like he was thirty instead of one hundred and thirty.
He felt human.
He shoved aside the bittersweet thought, and leaned closer, reaching casually for the bread basket and brushing Zara's breasts with his forearm as he did.
Her tiny gasp ran through him like a shot, and his cock thickened even more. He issued himself a mental warning. No matter how smooth he was, there was no way they were having sex in the middle of the restaurant unless he wanted to hypnotize the entire place or get the cops called in. He needed to slow his roll and get his head right.
Zara. Make it all about Zara tonight.
He plucked a piece of bread from the basket and set it on his plate. After slathering it with butter, he tore off a small piece and held it out to her.
"Bite?"
Her lean throat worked and she wet her lips before leaning in to take it from his fingers. He nearly groaned when those pillowy soft lips brushed his thumb as she plucked the morsel from him with her teeth.
She chewed quietly and murmured her approval. "Really good."
He'd take her word for it, because the thought of eating anything but Zara held no appeal. He tugged off another piece of bread and held it out to her.
"I like feeding you," he muttered, his voice hardly more than a growl.
Her eyes went wide and glassy, and this time, when she leaned in, she moved slowly. Like she was underwater. She closed her lips over his fingers and tugged the bread from his grasp, but not before sweeping the tip of her tongue over his fingertips at the last second.
His brain was still wired like a human male, and the motion brought back a memory of the night before. She'd taken him into her mouth so deep he thought he was going to come on the spot. He managed to hold on, but only through sheer force of will, until she'd clutched at his hips, driving him ever deeper. Until the head of his cock was enveloped in the tight column of her throat. Then, it was over. He'd gritted out a string of curses and hot jets of liquid spurted from his aching, distended cock into her
Until then? He was confident he could keep her more than satisfied.
He reached out and trailed his index finger over the back of her wrist. "You're so far away. Why don't you come sit next to me and I’ll tell you all about it?"
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she seemed to be about to ask him a question, but then stopped herself. She tossed her napkin onto the table and stood, switching to sit in the booth next to him.
She settled next to him, and for the first ten minutes she sat there, he didn't touch her. Instead, he talked about his day at the job--glossing over the parts that he'd spent looking back through old texts and documents they kept hidden in the basement vault. She was an engaged listener and he loved talking to her, but on the other hand, he couldn't deny that part of his motive wasn't so pure.
Already, she was moving imperceptibly closer to him. Pressing her hip against his, and brushing her arm against his wrist every so often as they spoke. She would glance his way, head cocked, peeking at him from beneath thick lashes. He didn’t need to read her mind to know what she was thinking.
You asked me to come closer, so why aren't you touching me?
Which was exactly what he'd wanted. One of the things he'd missed most about sex for all those celibate years had been the anticipation. The time beforehand, where everything was still a question.
Would they?
Wouldn't they?
If so, when?
Would it be fast and hard, or slow and sweet?
When he'd been turned from a man into a nightwalker, that hot as hell uncertainty had all but disappeared. Maybe it was part of the reason he'd sworn off fucking in the first place. There was no mystery. If he wanted it, he got it. It became almost tedious, with no hunt or chase or variety besides the mechanics of it.
Now, though, with Zara next to him, filling his head with the smell of cherry blossoms? It all felt new again. He felt like he was thirty instead of one hundred and thirty.
He felt human.
He shoved aside the bittersweet thought, and leaned closer, reaching casually for the bread basket and brushing Zara's breasts with his forearm as he did.
Her tiny gasp ran through him like a shot, and his cock thickened even more. He issued himself a mental warning. No matter how smooth he was, there was no way they were having sex in the middle of the restaurant unless he wanted to hypnotize the entire place or get the cops called in. He needed to slow his roll and get his head right.
Zara. Make it all about Zara tonight.
He plucked a piece of bread from the basket and set it on his plate. After slathering it with butter, he tore off a small piece and held it out to her.
"Bite?"
Her lean throat worked and she wet her lips before leaning in to take it from his fingers. He nearly groaned when those pillowy soft lips brushed his thumb as she plucked the morsel from him with her teeth.
She chewed quietly and murmured her approval. "Really good."
He'd take her word for it, because the thought of eating anything but Zara held no appeal. He tugged off another piece of bread and held it out to her.
"I like feeding you," he muttered, his voice hardly more than a growl.
Her eyes went wide and glassy, and this time, when she leaned in, she moved slowly. Like she was underwater. She closed her lips over his fingers and tugged the bread from his grasp, but not before sweeping the tip of her tongue over his fingertips at the last second.
His brain was still wired like a human male, and the motion brought back a memory of the night before. She'd taken him into her mouth so deep he thought he was going to come on the spot. He managed to hold on, but only through sheer force of will, until she'd clutched at his hips, driving him ever deeper. Until the head of his cock was enveloped in the tight column of her throat. Then, it was over. He'd gritted out a string of curses and hot jets of liquid spurted from his aching, distended cock into her
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