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Chapter Nineteen
The sound of the suite door clicking shut woke Nikki. She peeked out from under the comforter, watching Michael carry a tray of croissants, fruit and coffee over to the table. He'd pulled on some jeans but wore no shirt, and the warm morning light played lovingly across his well-muscled chest and stomach. He had good skin color, considering how little he saw of the sun.
"Are you getting up?” He flipped the cups right-side up and poured two coffees. She yawned and stretched. She felt like a cat, all warm and contented and full. But that didn't mean she couldn't do with more. Especially when the meal in question was standing a few yards away, looking mighty sexy in tight-fitting jeans. “That depends."
"On what?” He watched her over the rim of his steaming coffee mug, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
"On whether you're intending to bring that coffee over to me.” Not that she intended to drink the coffee once he'd bought it over. What she wanted was him in bed with her.
"Not a chance.” Grin widening, he sat down. “You need to get out of bed, because we need to talk."
"That sounds ominous."
"It is. The coffee is delicious, by the way, and getting colder by the minute."
"Never tease someone who hasn't yet had their first morning cup. It could get ugly."
"I can handle ugly."
But he hadn't yet seen her in a coffee deprived fit. Even Jake quailed. She thrust the covers aside and wandered over to the table. She didn't bother dressing. Their room was isolated enough, and it wasn't cold. And after last night, he probably knew her body better than she did. She smiled. Besides, there was something deliciously wanton, almost erotic, about parading around without any clothes on—especially when his gaze all but devoured her.
He cleared his throat. “If you intend coming to breakfast dressed like that all the time, I'll definitely have to keep you around."
"Play your cards right, and I just might stay.” She grinned and sat down next to him. “What do you want to talk about?"
His gaze ran over her, stirring heat where it touched. Her nipples hardened, aching for his caress. Whatever he wanted to talk about, he'd better make it quick, because she fully intended to do for him what he'd done for her last night—and she didn't think she had the strength to hold off touching him for much longer.
She picked up her coffee and sipped it. It felt cold when compared to the heat already burning through her body. She glanced sideways at him, a teasing smile on her lips. “You did say you wanted to talk, didn't you?"
He cleared his throat again. “Well, yes. Why don't you go put a robe on so I'm not so distracted?"
"Can't do that, because I'm enjoying distracting you. So say what you have to say.” She already knew what it was, could tell by the cautious feel to the link. He was going to tell her to leave. Only what he said first wasn't exactly what she'd expected.
"Elizabeth was outside our room last night. Watching us. Waiting for me to leave you alone." Fear stirred her stomach. She took another sip of coffee. “Why?"
"To understand that, you must know a little about Elizabeth herself." The last thing she wanted right now was a discussion about his ex. Talk about a mood killer. “I understand that she's a nut who likes little boys. What more do I need to know?” How old was Michael when she'd turned him? He hadn't been as young as Matthew, that much was for certain.
"I was twenty-seven, Nikki. An old man in my time."
She hesitated. “Married? Kids?"
He shook his head. “Neither. I worked my family's farm."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Why?” From the little she knew of the sixteenth century, people married early and died young. It was rare for a man to be single at sixteen, let alone twenty. Twenty-seven was old-age material.
He smiled and trailed his fingers down her cheek, gently outlining her lips. “I never met anyone I truly loved and wanted to raise children with."
"So Elizabeth's hunger for virgins is what drove her to you?” She opened her mouth, gently sucking on his fingers.
Embers flared, breathing heat through the link.
"Yes,” he said softly. “And I, mistaking lust for love, followed her into darkness."
"Can't be sad about that,” she said. “Because that's what brought you here to me."
"True.” He reached across to the tray and grabbed a croissant. Tearing it into pieces, he began feeding her. “And you, my love, are what I hungered to find all those years ago." She sighed softly. He could say words like that forever, because she would certainly never tire of hearing them. Each time he fed her a piece of croissant, she ran her tongue across his fingertips or gently sucked them. The embers became a fire, and the heat burned them both. God, she wanted to touch him so badly she ached. But not yet. And even when she did, she would tease him as he had teased her last night.
"That doesn't explain why she was watching us,” she said, once she'd eaten the final piece of croissant.
