Getting What You Want (20 page)

God, he wanted this woman. He wanted to do this with her forever, be inside her, feel her heat, her slickness.

His body tightened as suddenly his hunger joined his rising desire, sharpening and intensifying the already powerful sensation, until all he could think about was the way it would feel if he took her energy into him, while she took his cock into her.

Do it,
his mind ordered.
Just a little.

But he shoved the desire away. He wouldn’t do that again. Not after last night. He’d taken too much. And she couldn’t handle him taking from her again.

He focused on the tightness pulsing around him, squeezing his penis with wet, hot heat. God, she felt so good.

So good. As soon as he felt her orgasm, the long shudders of her muscles, he followed her into her release. His own orgasm pounding through him.

But even the breath-stealing intensity didn’t quite take away all of his desire to inhale some of her energy.

This was not good.

V
ittorio had to admit that he didn’t feel any better even in the aftermath of fantastic sex. Even with Erika in the living room, and a little distance between them.

He’d used the excuse of needing to use the bathroom to give himself a little physical distance and time between himself and her. But he still craved her energy. Which made no sense.

His hunger was spiraling out of control so quickly. He’d taken from her last night, and that should be enough. He usually went days, even weeks, without having his hunger get out of hand.

But he couldn’t seem to stop craving Erika’s energy. And that wasn’t normal. Not for him. He’d spent his decades mastering his desire to feed until it was almost an afterthought. So why was this different?

A knock drew his attention to the bathroom door.

“Are you okay in there?” Erika’s voice reached him, though a little muffled. Her energy, wafting through every crack around the door frame, was loud and clear. And calling to him.

“I’m fine,” he managed, realizing he wasn’t fine. This was a real problem. The more he had of her, the more he wanted.

A brief silence followed his words, then she said, “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” Then another pause before he heard her footfalls heading back down the hallway.

He dropped his head back into his hands, not leaving his seat on the edge of the tub. He knew he had been in there a long time, but he was afraid to leave. He knew he’d lose control.

He had to go feed. It was the only thing he could do to be sure he wouldn’t just snap and feed from her. Or worse than that, not snap but just siphon a little here and a little there until he’d taken too much.

He sat there for a moment more, then gathered himself. Slowly he rose and opened the door. He knew she was in the living room. A radio played, but he couldn’t hear her.

He walked down the hallway, his movements measured and filled with dread. What if he couldn’t control this? How could he be with her, protect her, when he was becoming a threat too?

He entered the room to find her bent over a shaped piece of metal that vaguely resembled chicken wire.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped, spinning to look at him, the pliers she had in her hands nearly flying. Not unlike the cell phone from their first meeting.

Vittorio couldn’t help wondering if she was aware she should be nervous around him, even though she wouldn’t know why.

“You scared me,” she breathed, then smiled.

His desire for her flared.

“I’m sorry.”

“You are a very quiet walker.”

A vampire trait. One of many that were turning out to be a real problem.

She moved closer to him, and he had to fight the impulse to step back. He won, but just barely. He had to do something about this urge that was spiraling through him like a twister.

He could tell by the puzzled expression on Erika’s face he wasn’t hiding his struggle well.

“I don’t know if you are hungry,” she said.

God, yes, he was.

“But I picked up turkey po’—”

“I actually have to go out,” he interrupted abruptly, his eyes locked on her lips, every ounce of his willpower keeping him from kissing her and tasting her powerful, wonderful life force.

“Oh,” she said, her brows drawing together. “Umm, okay.”

“Just for a few moments,” he added, realizing his behavior was coming across as strange. “Just a quick errand.”

She nodded quickly, trying to reassure him it was fine, even though she clearly still didn’t understand what was going on with him.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she said, her confusion evident in the tone of her voice. He didn’t hazard a look at her as he skirted around her. He knew his distance would really bewilder, and possibly hurt, her. And he was too much of a coward to look at her and see that.

He hurried to the front door, to get where it was safe to feed. Then he could come back to her and be normal. Well as normal as he got.

But before he disappeared into the night, he paused.

“Lock the door,” he said, then slipped out into the darkness, hating the fact that he had to leave, and that he was acting so strangely.

Erika stood there for a few moments, just staring at the closed door. Vittorio’s departure was abrupt and more than a little weird. But finally she did as he asked, and locked the door, wiggling the knob to make sure the bolt was secure.

“You know, Boris,” she said to her cat as she returned to her artwork, “things have been very odd of late.”

What errand did he have to do right this minute? And why had he looked as if he couldn’t bear to make eye contact with her?

She wanted to believe his behavior was just typical Vittorio—his usual hot and cold behavior. At least she knew that was normal and he’d get over it. She hoped.

She looked down at her pliers, held forgotten in her hand. She started to reach for another panel of the wire mesh, then stopped, crossed over to the sofa and dropped onto the cushions, her movement jarring Boris.

She dropped her pliers on the coffee table, ignoring the glare of her disgruntled cat. She didn’t need to worry about the silly feline. His reactions were always the same, ranging from selfish affection to disdain. If only Vittorio were as easy to figure out.

Where was he going? And why had he stayed in the bathroom for nearly twenty minutes? She hadn’t heard the shower, she hadn’t heard him moving around in there. Not even the flush of the toilet.

But the crazy thing was that while they’d been making love, she’d truly believed that’s what he’d been doing with her. Their sexual encounters went beyond mere sex. She knew it. In her heart, she did. Yet he went off, obviously shaken, obviously in a rush and obviously that rush involved getting away from her more than running some mysterious errand.

Her train of thought returned to what Philippe had said. That Vittorio had another woman. Did she have something to do with this? Did Vittorio need to talk to her? See her? Hell, she didn’t even know where this woman was. She could be right here in New Orleans.

Erika sighed. She’d make herself crazy wondering things like that. Maybe that was something she needed to ask him about, not that she’d get a direct answer. Plus she didn’t really want to tell him she got this idea about another woman from her psychic. She suspected that, like many people, he didn’t buy into psychic phenomena.

Stretching her neck to one side and then the other, she sighed again. Her muscles were strung ripcord tight. Between the enigma that was Vittorio, and her meeting with Isabel earlier, she seemed to have been tense all day long.

Okay, she hadn’t been tense while making love, or afterward, but her stress was back. And at the moment, a steaming hot shower sounded like exactly what she needed to loosen her muscles and hopefully calm her overactive mind.

Vittorio would be back soon, like he said he would be, and his behavior had nothing to do with another woman.

And maybe if she told herself that often enough, she’d believe it.

Fortunately Bourbon Street was bustling with revelers. Not terribly crowded since it was a Tuesday night, but Vittorio could find clusters of people to follow. He drained off bits of their energy until he felt in control of himself again.

Then he hurried right back to Erika. He hated to leave her unprotected, even for a few minutes. As he entered the courtyard and approached her apartment, he didn’t see her through the windows. Lights burned brightly, but her silhouette didn’t dance along the walls as she worked on her art, or prepared her dinner.

Instantly concern rose in Vittorio’s chest.

He twisted the doorknob. And he’d told her to lock up when he left. Which was only keeping
him
out at the moment. It wouldn’t keep out his mother should she want to get in.

He knocked, but there was no answer. He peered inside again, noticing the cat was on the back of one of the chairs, glaring. But that didn’t signal anything. That was all that cat did as far as Vittorio could tell.

He knocked again. Where was Erika? He hadn’t been gone more than fifteen minutes, twenty at the most.

He waited, concern growing. He looked back through the window; he saw no movement.

Where was she?

Without further thought, he dematerialized and reappeared on the other side of the door. The place was quiet, which made him all the more nervous.

Had someone or something come in and carried her away? He had just reached the hallway, when Erika stepped out of the bathroom, her back to him.

“Erika,” he said, relieved.

Erika screamed, spinning toward him, her towel threatening to slide down.

“Vittorio,” she gasped. “You scared me! Again. How do you do that?”

“Sorry.” Why did this again seem an insurmountable problem to overcome? Stealth—the demise of a grand affair. Of course, it was just a small part of the problems they’d have to triumph over.

But all too easily, Vittorio’s attention was drawn back to Erika and the fact she was wearing nothing but a towel, which was in imminent danger of slipping. She tugged at it, tightening it around her lithe body. Vittorio watched, his body reacting instantly to her long legs, her pale shoulders, and the other incredible attributes hidden under pale blue terry cloth. And all thoughts of insurmountable problems were lost.

God, he was insatiable—in every way—for her.

“I’m sorry. I keep doing that, don’t I?” he said.

She nodded, then frowned. “You also keep coming into my apartment when the door is locked.”

Shit.
Vittorio shifted, then grabbed on to the only idea he could come up with. “When you didn’t answer, I got concerned, so I got your spare key from Ren and Maggie’s.”

“Oh,” she said, seeming to find that believable. But then her brows drew together. “Why are you so worried about me? I mean, I’ve been living here alone for months before you got here.”

She had a valid point, and he needed to come up with a viable excuse for his concern. “Well, usually Ren and Maggie are here. And you’ve been having those nightmares. I just don’t want you getting nervous.”

She smiled. “That’s sweet.” Still holding her towel, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

God, she tasted so good, like mint and warmth and a sweetness all her own.

“Thank you for caring.”

He did care, just not enough to stay away from her. And he couldn’t make himself do it now.

He caught her hand. He couldn’t stay away and that had been clear from the moment she’d clocked him in the head with her cell phone. So the only hope was to keep her safe.

She started to pull away, smiling.

He caught her by the front of the towel, holding the edges together for her. “Where are you going?”

She laughed, looking down at the terry cloth, which slipped even further down her body, exposing more of the swell of her breasts. Vittorio followed her glance, his penis pulsing at the swell of pearly white flesh revealed.

“I was going to get clothes on so I could start working.”

He shook his head.

“I’m not.” She laughed again, the sound husky and sexy.

“Noo…” He began tugging her toward the living room.

“Where are we going?” she asked, smiling broadly.

“I noticed the cushions you arranged by your work area. I thought maybe we should practice a few poses there.”

“Poses with me?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“But I can’t sculpt myself.” She raised an eyebrow as if she’d caught him on that one.

“No. So I guess this will be my opportunity to sculpt you.”

She tilted her head, clearly intrigued.

“I’ll show you.”

He pulled her toward the spot she’d arranged earlier. Carefully, he eased her down among the downy cushions and sheets. She lounged back against them, her eyes intent behind her lowered lashes.

“So how does your sculpting begin?”

“Like this.” He kneeled beside her, and carefully unwrapped the towel, revealing her perfect body. She breathed out, a slow hissing sound as the cool air hit her still shower-warmed skin.

He breathed in, mimicking the sound, in awe of how truly beautiful she was.

“What next?” she whispered, watching him.

Vittorio pulled in another shuddering breath, then moved his hands to her sides. Slowly he shaped them over her body, caressing the slight flare of her hips, then the narrow indentation of her waist, the subtle ripples of her rib cage. Committing each curve of her body to his memory.

She squirmed slightly as his hands reached her armpits.

“Tickles,” she said with a smile, but the smile vanished on the wave of a gasp as his hands moved to mold her breasts.

“Oh,” she gasped, closing her eyes and pressing herself more firmly into his palms.

“You are so breathtakingly beautiful,” he murmured, splaying his hands upward to stroke her chest, her neck, then back down to her breasts.

“Vitt—”

Her words were cut off by a sharp rap at the door. Vittorio immediately angled himself so that he was blocking Erika from view of the window beside the door. She scrambled for the sheet draped underneath her, yanking it over herself.

There was another knock, then a muffled, “Erika?”

Erika looked at Vittorio. “Is that Ren?”

Vittorio nodded, very, very disgruntled by his brother’s timing.

Another knock.

“I’ll get rid of him,” Vittorio said, deciding he’d have to answer the door to get rid of the pest. “Stay right here. I’m so not done with you.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Erika said, but Vittorio rose anyway, heading to the door.

He unlocked the bolt, opening the door just enough to peer out at his brother. Which was unfortunately all the invitation Ren needed.

“Vittorio? What are you doing down here?” he asked as he shoved open the door and walked into the room, followed by Maggie.

“Hi Vittorio,” she greeted with her usual bright smile.

“So what are you doing…” Ren’s voice trailed off as he spotted Erika on the pile of cushions shrouded in a white sheet. “…Here.”