Immortal Distraction (21 page)

“No.” She choked on the word as her throat constricted further, and the moment she managed to get the word out, his lips pulled up slightly, showing just the tips of his pointed fangs past his lips.

“Good girl.” And then he thrust. But this time, he was lined up perfect with her entry, and he sank to his hilt inside her quivering channel as she cried out loudly at the sudden fullness. He started thrusting, pounding, and fucking her as she mewled like a ravenous animal beneath his body, but before her body fell apart completely, he rolled their bodies to leave her sitting on top of him.

He was watching her, smiling again, and his hands moved to her hips, gripping them hard and lifting her. She braced her knees on the bed and rose as he lifted before sinking back down over his erection. The depth was painful and brutally intense, but her body was so overready for its release she ignored the pain and plunged down hard over and over on his thick erection until the spasms of her orgasm made it impossible to move, and she crumbled down to his chest.

He chuckled as her muscles twitched and she groaned. When she lifted her head and planted a hand on either side of his neck, gasping to catch her breath as she looked at him, he winked. “Hold on tight, love.” And then he gripped her hips, holding her firmly in place as he pistoned into her body. She was jolted forward by the force and braced herself with a hand to the headboard as he continued to pound and thrust hard until his own orgasm was released in spasms within her. She watched his stomach muscles clench and tighten. It was intimidating to see the strength in his body, but it was also intensely arousing. His growling groan parted his lips as his head fell back, and she stared, entranced at the dangerous pointed fangs.

When he’d recovered enough to function, he pulled her mouth to his and kissed. She saw his fangs retracting even as she was nearing his mouth, and when she pushed her tongue past his lips, tasting the delicious, soft surface of him, he didn’t stop her. His arms encircled her, and she snuggled into his chest as their lips parted. She was sore, but she was alive, so incredibly alive with him. The threat of Driscoll couldn’t touch her when she was with him, and it was only with him that she managed to set aside any measure of the worry, doubt, stress, and anxiety that followed her through life. He was her Prozac; he was her Vicodin. He had the odd ability to give her happiness and security when life tried to keep those things from her.

He shifted their bodies so she was lying facing him and kissed gentle caressing kisses across her forehead as she slowly started to drift to sleep. When she heard his warm voice again, she was only barely conscious. “I was terrified tonight.” His words sounded worried and honest, but it was the unexpected vulnerability in his voice that left warmth pulsing through her body.

“I’m sorry.” She heard her words mumbled from her mouth more than she was conscious of saying them, and they were met with silence … but also more gentle, caressing kisses. It might have been the first time in her life she apologized to a man, to anyone for that matter. How had she become such a softy?

Chapter 19

When he showed up unannounced at her precinct the next day, it was for no other reason than he couldn’t stop worrying about her. After watching her wake up that morning, he ducked out to a nearby coffee shop, buying three different things to choose from. He knew she drank coffee, but he knew nothing about the stuff himself, and he intentionally hung back watching other people order for a while. When he heard a young woman who clearly couldn’t be old enough to drink coffee order a grande, iced, half-caf, triple-mocha latte macchiato, he panicked, but he was committed. It was all very confusing, and by the time he was at the counter, he was ready to give up and buy her a coffeemaker.

He settled on three different things. And by the time he exited the store, he had random coffee terms floating through his mind that meant nothing at all to him and which he vowed to expel from his head forever.

He found her naked in the bathroom, standing at the sink brushing her teeth. He nearly spilled the coffee on himself as he paused in a sudden need to stare. He was approaching from her side, and he loved this profile. She had an incredible slim waist, and her bottom was round. Her legs were lean and strong but still perfectly feminine. She stood up on her tiptoes as she leaned over the sink and spit a mouthful of toothpaste, and he smiled at the way it elongated her legs and tightened the muscles. When she finally caught him staring, she shrieked in surprise, spraying toothpaste at him. He chuckled; she blushed.

“What is that?” She was eying the three cups he set on the counter.

“I don’t know.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Is it…?”

“No, really, I have no idea.” Her unexpected smile had his heart lurching in need.

When he pushed her up to the counter from behind her, he leaned to her ear. He was hard and his erection was pushing into her back. She watched him in the mirror as her lips parted. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin. And as his lips grazed delicately over her earlobe, her heart pounded, her wetness flooded, and a shudder ran through her body that radiated out to his. “I wish you didn’t have to work. We could be doing so much more pleasurable things that won’t get you killed here.”

She watched him with a subtle smile on her lips. “Someone has to catch the bad guys.”

“I prefer to just eat them.” He shouldn’t have said it, and as her lips parted and she studied him, he regretted it. Her face had dropped, and if he could have kicked his own ass for being stupid, he’d have gladly done so. He leaned back to her neck, kissed gently, and then spoke again. “Let’s just bookmark this argument and save it for later, shall we?”

She nodded, but her eyes remained serious. He’d effectively killed that delicious mood with one fell swoop. Perhaps if he could keep his mouth shut she might actually like him someday. But keeping his mouth shut wasn’t really his strong suit. He stepped back from her body, and she moved to the coffee. He watched as she smelled each one, and then chose, sipped, and hummed her approval. Apparently, she’d forgiven him. As she walked from the bathroom with her choice gripped between her two hands, he dumped the other two and followed her, climbing to his bed and lounging while he watched her dress.

She hadn’t bothered to unpack the clothing she’d brought over, and it sent a most unwelcome stab of hurt through him. Why? Most every reaction he had to her was odd and surprised him. Why, for instance, did he feel like dying every time he imagined her being hurt, worse yet killed? He couldn’t stand her mortality; it was like some grotesque ticking time bomb that he was forced to watch and wait until it finally decided to go off. Every part of her life was somehow unsafe to her well being, and for a man who never, literally never, thought about safety for the sheer fact that there was little reason, it was unnerving, unbearable really. She was just too damn vulnerable. Vulnerable and fierce all at the same time.

His heart lurched as he watched her pull clothing from her bag and dress. The underwear she chose were boy cut and looked incredible on her ass. She chose a pair of jeans on this day, and paired it with a navy Henley, and brown heels. Slightly casual, but perfect on her.

When she clipped her gun holster to her hip, he smiled. He’d enjoyed, even through his terror, watching her put two bullets in Driscoll’s throat. She was a hell of a shot, and had her life not been so endangered at that moment, he’d have likely had a hard-on just watching. She caught him watching her and bit her lip. She was a far different Brit on this day than the day he met her. He’d been attracted to her instantly, and he was undoubtedly drawn to her fiery, fierce attitude, but now he could see the real her hiding behind the attitude, and he liked her even more because of it.

After they’d made love the night before, he’d pried. He already knew that her childhood had been difficult, but when she opened up and talked about being tormented in school by her classmates, it broke his heart—just another odd-ass emotional response she incited. She’d been humiliated endlessly, bullied incessantly, and terrorized without reprieve. The reasons were clear enough, and yet, she fought with every ounce of herself just hours earlier to protect and save one half of the catalyst for all her past tortures.

Her parents’ addictions and choices gave Brit the worst start to life imaginable, but she loved them still. He didn’t understand that … but he loved it about her. It showed a strength he certainly hadn’t had. He’d fled his family when he transitioned. He knew there was no accepting what he’d become, and he knew he’d find no support from his kin. But he didn’t have the emotional attachment to them that she obviously had to her own. It was a strength he envied. They hadn’t given her a reason to love them, but she did it anyway. He hadn’t had her strength at that point in his life, and when he contemplated the pain she endured time and again, it filled him with something that felt oddly like pride for her. She impressed the hell out of him.

She stopped at the doorway and turned to look at him. His insides clenched and a wave of panic hit full force as he held her gaze. She was too fucking human. Too weak. Too mortal. He was watching her leave to a world that held far too much threat and daylight was the only thing protecting her at the moment, and it was a pathetic deterrent at that. The sun didn’t even stop Angus from moving about during the day when he needed to. He could handle the discomfort, the weighing fatigue and weakness, even the slight burn that ran over his skin. What made him think it would truly keep Driscoll away from her?

“I’ll see you tonight.” And then she turned and left.

* * * *

Her mother had called from jail that morning, and after refusing to post bail, Brit tried to focus on her work. Her mother had been arrested enough there would be little lenience, and while vandalism, public intoxication, and public nuisance were the least of her mother’s criminal past, it would be enough to keep her off the streets for a while. She wanted her mother in jail, or better yet mandatory rehab followed by jail if she refused the treatment. While it was hard to imagine her mother getting clean after so many failed attempts, it was also hard not to imagine it. She was due in court the day after next for her arraignment, and Brit had every intention of keeping her in jail until that time.

When her phone rang, she jumped. Guess she wasn’t focusing that well on work after all. She was being called to the intake desk for a visitor, and when she rounded the corner, her heart fluttered for a moment.

“Have you had lunch?” His blue eyes met hers, and he smiled.

“No.”

“Then I’ll take you.” The woman at the front desk was eyeing him as though she’d never seen a gorgeous vampire before.

“I can’t imagine that would be very enjoyable for you given the fact you don’t eat.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I find watching you quite enjoyable, especially while you’re eating.” And then leaning to her ear so the nosy clerk couldn’t hear, he continued, “If you’d prefer, we can stay here and fuck in the supply closet, forego food altogether.”

“That won’t be happening.”

“Fine. Lunch first, and then we’ll find someplace quiet and private to make love before you have to return. That better?”

She said nothing in response. She was actually quite okay with that suggestion. He led her to his SUV and opened her door for her. And as he climbed into the driver’s seat, she spoke, “So, why the lunch invitation? When you can’t eat, it really does seem a bit pointless.”

He looked at her quickly. His expression was serious as he put the car into drive and pulled out into traffic. “You could have died last night … again. I spent two hours staring at the fucking ceiling in my bedroom after you left this morning, and I couldn’t stop imagining it.” His voice was distant. His cool and calm demeanor was tight and restrained at the moment.

“I didn’t die. I’m fine.” But she understood his fear quite well. She was walking around feeling the eyes of the world on her. She had been since her first run in with the man. She was no match for Driscoll. She didn’t want to admit it or accept it, but it was true. Two bullets to the throat would put a normal man on the ground and leave little chance he’d be rising again. But to put two into Driscoll, she’d have thought she merely kicked him in the shin.

He ignored her comment. “Where would you like to eat?” The expression in his eyes as he glanced to her said what his words didn’t; he hadn’t let it go any more than she had. He simply didn’t want to dwell on it.

“Second thought, I’m not very hungry. How about some place quiet and private?”

He chuckled and finally released a marginal amount of tension. “Let’s go home.” Her heart fluttered again. This time at his use of the word home. Or not that word specifically, but the word that didn’t precede it. The “my” was missing, and it sounded remarkably good without it. It sent a warm, inappropriate tingle through her body, and as her body reacted without her permission, he glanced to her, cocked his head to the side, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He hadn’t missed the effect his words had on her, and she could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks before she quickly glanced out the window. But not before she saw a small, gentle smile tug the corners of his mouth.

He caressed her hand as they made their way to his residence, and her body warmed and readied for him. She was already anticipating it. She’d agreed not to push him away, and though she knew she ought to and he did too, she was glad she had an excuse not to.

They didn’t make it past the elevator, or more accurately the elevator somewhere between the third and fourth floors. He hit the button that stopped it mid-ascension as he eyed her, and before she knew it, he was behind her body as she watched him in the mirrored wall of the small compartment. He reached around her and undid her jeans, pushing them down to her ankles. As he crouched behind her body, he slowly peeled her underwear down her legs, grazing his lips across the trembling skin of her legs as he worked his way back up. He kneaded and groped her buttocks and kissed passionate trails across the smooth skin. She really couldn’t see him with his body behind hers, and she couldn’t help but look at herself.