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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.
Rhys stayed at Megan’s side long after she had fallen asleep. Gazing down at her, he wondered if she would have second thoughts or regrets when she woke in the morning. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with a man. What would she think if she knew her latest lover was not a man at all?
He wondered absently if she was using any kind of birth control. Not that it mattered. He carried no diseases. He could not father a child. It was the one thing that bothered him about being a vampire. Not that he would have made a good father, not that he had ever really wanted kids, but he would have liked to have had the option just the same. It was the one thing he had always envied about his friend, Delacourt. Erik had been a married man with children before he was turned. It was possible that Delacourt still had descendants living somewhere in England.
Muttering an oath, Rhys dropped a kiss on Megan’s cheek, dressed, and left the house.
Filled with a sudden anger he refused to examine, he headed for his club. Even though it was late, there were still a few men and women lingering over drinks at the bar.
Rhys looked the women over, made his choice, and tapped her on the shoulder. When she started to speak, he silenced her with a look. He didn’t want conversation tonight, he didn’t want anything except a few minutes of forgetfulness.
The woman followed him into one of the rooms and closed the door. When she started to undress, he shook his head. He didn’t want an hour of meaningless sex; he didn’t want to seek comfort in the arms of a stranger. What the hell did he want?
Megan. Her name whispered in the back of his mind as he pulled the woman, none too gently, into his arms and buried his fangs in her throat. This was what he was, who he was. He would never be good enough for Megan DeLacey, never be able to give her the kind of life she deserved. He needed to remember that.
He lifted his head and stared at the woman in his embrace. And then he lowered his head and drank again. This is what you are, whispered a mocking voice in the back of his mind. A monster.
He drew back as his victim’s heartbeat grew slow and erratic. If he drank any more, the girl would die. Odd that he should worry about that now. He had rarely given much thought to the fate of his prey before. In the past, he had attacked men and women without a qualm, taken what he needed without regret, and if his victims didn’t survive, he had shrugged it off. Humans were prey. He was a predator. It had been as simple as that. Until the night he stepped into Shore’s and gazed into Megan DeLacey’s guileless brown eyes.
With an oath, he sealed the wounds in the woman’s neck and lowered her onto the bed. After ordering the bartender to take care of her, he left the club without a backward glance and headed for home.
And all the while, the word monster echoed in the back of his mind.
Chapter 13
Tomás lifted his head, his senses drinking in the sights and sounds of the evening countryside. He had left the Ferretti behind when he left Texas. As much as he loved the yacht, there was a lot to be said for the speed and power of a fine car, and the sleek, black Lamborghini Murcielago convertible was fine indeed, able to accelerate from zero to sixty in just over three seconds.
