"I will not do it that way," he said. "Not anymore."
He looked down at me, and I could have drowned in his eyes.
"Please." The word escaped my lips.
"I am sorry, Ms. Shaw," he said. He was kneeling next to the chaise, over me, and his head descended toward mine. I turned my face toward his, expecting another kiss, but he ducked his head lower, and his mouth found my neck instead.
I hissed as his lips touched me, the dampness of his mouth a shock against my neck that sent a wave of reaction straight down into my groin. I arched my neck, baring it to him as my hips pushed up, seeking him. His hands gripped the edges of the chaise, one on either side, barring me in. But I did not want to escape. I wanted him to touch me. My whole body ached for me to give myself to him.
I reached for him, to pull him down, but a muttered order against my skin forced me to drop my hands, and I lay helplessly burning for him as his mouth on my neck hardened, deepened.
I cried out when the pain came. Cried out-not in horror, but wanting more, needing more, an inarticulate plea as his teeth pierced my skin, slicing through it into my neck. The pain rippled out, tangled with desire, and roared over my senses, taking them to an exquisite, torturous height that demanded a release.
I could see the scarlet of the blood against the snowy white of my dress; I could feel it trickling around his lips to pool hotly beneath my shoulder. I knew what he was then, the word burning in my brain.
Vampire.
The truth of it cut through me like a knife, like his teeth at my neck. I knew now what he was, what he had wanted since I'd first walked into his office. I had my answer, more terrible than I could have imagined. And I didn't care. I couldn't care. Because all I wanted was him.
His mouth moved over my broken skin, and I could feel him suck, swallowing, taking my lifeblood into him as I wanted to take him into me. His was moving rhythmically now, each kiss a drink, and I rocked with him, panting, pleading for him to give me satisfaction.
He made a sound deep in his throat. It sent a shudder through me as I felt it against my skin. His weight came onto the edge of the chaise as he freed one arm, and he ripped away the blanket, his mouth still kissing, still torturing, still drinking. Blindly, his hand hooked around one knee and slid up my thigh. I whimpered, my hips seeking him, thighs loosening, opening myself to him.