I Want You to Want Me (14 page)

Instead of returning to Erika’s as quickly as he’d left, he ambled back, trying to use the cool, wet night air to dampen his desire, which overshadowed every other sensation in his body.

When the buzzer had sounded, he’d never been so relieved and so frustrated at the same time. He had no idea those two emotions could roil within himself in equal portions.

How was he supposed to do this? Remain controlled when he wanted her so desperately? And when he knew how she tasted and what she felt like in his arms. When he wanted another chance to take his time, to explore all of her?

He’d thought the years of his early vampirism were torture. They held nothing on this. Every fiber of his being demanded to have her.

He’d been in the apartment with her less than an hour and he’d already nearly kissed her. He had to get a grip.

But something about her so called to him, and it went beyond her face and her figure, which were both stunning. What really drew him, and now he understood after seeing her artwork tonight, was that she seemed to see him. Really see him.

He’d seen other interpretations of himself, in paint, in marble, but they’d only ever captured his outside. They’d never revealed anything within him.

But Erika had seen inside him, seen something he didn’t even know was there. A sorrow he thought he masked behind aloofness and vampiric beauty. The ache and sadness she captured should have upset him, but somehow, it just made him feel closer to Erika. She understood a part of him that he hid. And she didn’t seem to pity him for it. She just—understood.

Oddly, her vision of him made him feel almost—normal. Like she’d depicted his pain and in doing so had allowed some of it to be set free.

Someone understood, and that was as powerful an aphrodisiac as anything he could imagine. And he wanted her more, if that was possible.

He hesitated on the sunporch, debating what to do now. Knowing if he went back in there, he’d have to have her. And not just for a night. But how could he risk someone he wanted so much? And he could be risking her life.

He considered what to do a moment longer, then headed back inside. He stood in the doorway, watching her set the table. She looked up at him as he stood there, her expression pensive.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice low and uneasy as if she expected him to say something awful. Which was justifiable given his past behavior.

“I’m fine,” he told her, meeting her eyes directly. He’d already put her at risk by being with her. So now, would he really be doing her any good by staying away? No. He had to stay close to her. That was the only way to protect her. And in the process, maybe he’d lure his mother out too. But no matter what, he wanted to be with Erika. He wouldn’t let anything or anyone harm her.

He walked over to the table, setting the pizza box down. Then he moved closer to her.

“I think I’d like to pose for you,” he said, telling the truth.

“Really?” She frowned at him, clearly not following or understanding his change in demeanor. And he wanted to take all that uncertainty from her. He wanted her trust. Her friendship, her affection, her desire. And he wanted to be that normal, and flawed, guy she saw inside him.

“Yeah. I really love what you did with that bust.”

She smiled, the first genuine and unguarded response he’d seen since her response to him last night.

“I’d love to sculpt you.” She moved closer too. He could see the varying shades of gray and blue in her eyes. He could smell her spicy, cinnamon scent.

He smiled back, then he touched her cheek. “I’d also really like to kiss you.”

She didn’t speak this time. Instead she kissed him.

E
rika surprised herself by kissing him first, especially since he’d told her so sweetly what he wanted to do. But she was afraid he’d change his mind.

And she just couldn’t let that happen. But as soon as her lips touched his, she realized he had no intention of stopping. He took control of the embrace, his hands, his mouth as filled with wild desire as they’d been last night.

She exulted in the frenzied loss of control, because she knew he was a person who always kept a tight rein on himself.

He broke the kiss, yet didn’t release her, his hands holding her waist.

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve wanted to do this? And for how long? I’ve thought about it since that first time we met.”

Erika smiled, remembered that night at the jazz bar when Ren had introduced them. They’d only shook hands, a brief touch, yet her body had reacted as if it was on fire, inflamed with burning desire, and only Vittorio could have put that fiery desire out. The source and the solution. She felt the same way now.

“I thought about you too. A lot,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks redden with the admission.

He smiled, a pleased, slightly smug curl of his lips. Erika found the look very appealing. Then his mouth was back on hers, and she was only thinking about how turned on he made her.

She made a small, surprised noise into his mouth as he picked her up. A plate clattered as he placed her on the table. He pushed it away. The pizza fell to the floor.

Her legs parted, and he moved between them like there was no other place in the world he should be. And by her way of thinking, there wasn’t.

“I’ve thought of you dozens of times,” she admitted against his lips. “Dozens of times.”

She felt his smile, then he caught her bottom lip with his teeth, worrying the tender flesh in a way that made every nerve ending in her body tingle and ache. Then his mouth left hers to kiss and nip down the side of her neck to her collarbone.

Their actions grew more frenzied with each kiss and caress. He pushed closer between her thighs. Her jeans rubbed against the aroused, damp flesh between her thighs. The material of his own jeans added to the friction, a maddening and exciting sensation.

She wanted to cry out; it almost became too much, yet not nearly enough. He sensed her frustrated need. A need to have them naked, with skin touching skin.

His fingers found the top of her jeans, and he unbuttoned them. Then he pulled down the zipper. She levered herself off the tabletop so he could work the pants down her legs. He worked them over her bare feet and tossed them aside. Then her panties joined the jumbled jeans.

She sat in front of him, wearing nothing but her tank top, her legs splayed wide, her wet sex offered to him. And she didn’t feel the least bit of embarrassment or uncertainty. She wanted him, and she wanted him to know just how much.

His dark eyes grew darker as he stared at her, his hungry gaze moving down her. Then he braced his hands on her hips, his fingers curling possessively over the jut of her hipbones. He eased her farther back on the table, a plate fell clattering to the floor.

“Sorry,” he said, but she simply shook her head, not concerned. Like she could care about her dinnerware when she was splayed before him, desperate for his possession.

He released her hips and leaned forward to kiss the inside of her knee. She leapt at the touch, her body so desperate for him. For more of his touch.

He didn’t disappoint. His mouth moved its way up her inner thigh, wet, hot kisses. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her body arcing upward to capture each kiss. Then he was right where she wanted him, his breath hot on her damp flesh.

“Vittorio,” she managed, rising up again, offering herself to him.

He lifted his head to raise a questioning eyebrow, but she tugged at his hair, positioning his mouth where she wanted it.

He chuckled, the sound deep and delicious and supremely masculine. Her body reacted, her sex pulsing, her breasts growing heavy.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, then he ran his tongue up the center of her sex, the tip connecting and lingering on her clitoris.

“Yes,” she cried, “God, yes!”

She felt his smile against her, then his tongue again. Licking, swirling, plunging into her over and over.

Her fingers tightened in his hair as her arousal grew, more and more intense, so powerful she thought she’d shatter apart. Her body couldn’t possibly handle the strength of her desire, the need for her release.

But just as she would have splintered, flying into thousands of brilliant shards of ecstasy, he pulled back. A small strangled sound of disappointment escaped her.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, his hands moving back to her hips, sliding her toward him until her bottom was on the edge of the tabletop. He positioned himself between her thighs.

“I won’t let you go unfulfilled.” He nudged her apart with the head of his hard penis. She wriggled, wanting more. Wanting all of him.

He smiled, the gesture breathtaking. She nearly orgasmed just looking at him.

Then he thrust into her deeply, filling her totally, and she did orgasm. Her body shaking with her release. Long, violent shudders.

Vittorio stayed still, buried fully inside her, letting her ride out her release to the very end. But when she would have collapsed depleted against the sunny yellow tabletop, he began to move, slow, fully penetrating thrusts amazingly building her desire again. Each stroke of his penis felt like a thousand hands bringing her back to intense arousal.

Vittorio filled Erika, pulling back then refilling her. He watched every nuance of her face, every reaction. He felt every shudder and vibration of her body. He learned how much she wanted, how long she would wait before demanding him, with her body, back to her.

This was heaven. Utter and total heaven.

And just as quickly as she had with his mouth, she spiraled upward toward release. Her breathing came in short pants, perspiration glossed her skin in a fine sheen.

He leaned forward and licked between her breasts, tasting the saltiness of her skin, breathing in her wonderful scent. Quickly, his own desire rose up, spinning through him in a whirling frenzy.

Her fingers dug into his back as he picked up his pace, grinding into her hungrily.

“Yes,” she cried, her nails biting through the cotton of his T-shirt. “Vittorio!”

His name called out in her passion-ragged voice was all he needed. He came into her. His release wet and slick and filling her.

He collapsed against her, his head nestled between her breasts. Her fingers combed through his hair, stroking him, caressing him.

“Vittorio,” she whispered.

He moved, resting his chin lightly on her chest. “Yes?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

He lifted his head, frowning in confusion. “What?”

She smiled lopsidedly, the expression so cute, he was momentarily lost in it. “What’s your favorite color?”

He smiled back, still confused. “Favorite color?”

She nodded. “Mine is black. And green. I like green a lot.”

He considered the question. “I’ve never thought about it,” he admitted.

“Well, you must have a favorite color.” She tilted her head in that way that he loved. “Everyone does.”

For a moment, those words made him remember how different he was from her. From everyone she’d known. But then he actually thought about it. “I guess I like blue,” he said, then shook his head. “Or red.”

“Dark or light red? Bright red?”

He studied her for a moment, trying to decide if she was serious, then he laughed. “This is actually important to you.”

She nodded. “Of course it is.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know what you like and dislike. I want to be friends.”

He glanced down at where their bodies were still joined, his penis semi-erect inside her. “I think we are definitely friends.”

She smiled, although he noted some uncertainty had returned to her stormy eyes. “We are. But I do think there’s something a little wrong about doing what we’ve done, and not knowing something as simple as your favorite color.”

Vittorio regarded her, realizing that her words should be true. But in his world, sex wasn’t something necessarily done between friends, just the mutually attracted. He’d never known something as basic as a person’s favorite color.

He’d never been with someone who thought about their favorite things or other people’s favorite things. Certainly Seraph hadn’t talked about details like this. That was far too whimsical for someone like Seraph. Drug addiction blotted out any normal thoughts, anything so lighthearted. Her addiction had been all she thought about, just like for him, his vampirism became all he thought about.

He hadn’t realized that even when he’d been helping those women, he’d thought he’d been doing it to atone for past sins. Now he wondered if he’d done it because they were people he understood and felt comfortable with.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by the gentle touch of Erika’s fingers trailing along his jaw. Her eyes looked deep into his. She had a penetrating look that could rival any vampire. Even Bela Lugosi’s interpretation.

“Why do you look so serious?”

He stared down at her, wondering what he was doing with this woman. He was risking her safety. He was not the right type for her, even if he weren’t jeopardizing her well-being.

Her fingers traced the cut of his jawline, until they threaded into his hair. He let his eyes drift shut, loving her touch more than anything he could recall.

Her lips touched his chin, then his lips. A sweet caring kiss. She stopped, and he opened his eyes to see she was still watching him. They simply looked at each other for a few moments. Then he offered her a small smile.

“My favorite color is definitely blue,” he said, studying the hues of blue and gray in her eyes. “Definitely blue.”

Then he began to rock inside her, making love to her all over again. This woman he wanted to be his friend, his lover. Just plain, his. Forever. Or as long as she wanted him.

Sometime during the night, Vittorio must have moved Erika to her bed. She must have fallen asleep, or maybe passed out after their last bout of lovemaking on her sunshiny kitchen table. Because she woke up, curled in her bed, Vittorio asleep next to her.

She touched his hair, silky and spread out over the pillow. Her eyes drifted shut, her body languid, her thoughts muzzy and peaceful.

This was so nice.
She floated back into the darkness. She didn’t know how long she actually slept that way. Serene, pleasant. But all too quickly that calm, lovely feeling disappeared, replaced by stark terror.

“Erika?” Vittorio managed to resurface from his deep sleep.
God, the sun must be high in the sky,
he realized vaguely, blearily, because it was hard for him to gather enough energy to move. But still he mustered all his strength.

“Erika?”

She was having a nightmare again. Her legs moved under the blankets, as if she were running. Small frightened noises sounded in the back of her throat.

As if he had enormous weights strapped to his limbs, he slowly touched her, running his fingers through her hair.

“Erika.”

She struggled a little more against the covers, against her dream. But gradually she managed to sense his touch.

She blinked, seeming to struggle awake with nearly as much difficulty as he had. Although she didn’t have the sun to blame for her deep sleep. Again, he did wonder if she had something equally paranormal to blame, however.

“Vittorio?” She cupped her cold, shaking fingers around his hand. She pressed his palm to her face. He saw fear in her eyes, even in the dimness of the room.

“I’m right here. Are you okay?” His voice sounded gritty and slurred even to his own ears.

“Yes. Just another nightmare.” She offered him a wobbly smile, obviously trying to comfort him.

“Was it the same as before?”

She didn’t respond immediately, instead she nuzzled her cheek against his hand.

“No,” she finally said. “Before I was always being chased by creatures I didn’t recognize. Monsters or demons or something—several of them. This time it was only one.”

Even though the sun pressed heavily on him and willed him to sleep, he kept his eyes locked with hers, a strange wariness filling him.

“Did you recognize who was chasing you?”

Again she didn’t respond immediately. Then she nodded.

“Yes, it was you.”