Page 22 of Bite
He closes the distance between us so abruptly that the rest of my words stick in my throat, never making it past my lips. His fingertips brush the curve of my neck, sending electricity skittering through my veins.
“May I?” he murmurs.
I nod, surrendering with a subtle tilt of my chin.
He moves in even closer, until his chest is pressed flush against mine and the last whisper of space between us evaporates. Brushing my hair over one shoulder with deliberate precision, his fingers trail down the delicate slope of my throat until they come to rest on the frantic flutter of my pulse. My skin prickles, every nerve alive under his touch.
I exhale slowly, eyes fluttering closed as I steady myself. His breath ghosts across my neck, lips grazing featherlight over my skin. At the soft pop of his fangs extending, my heart skips, stutters, stops–
And then he bites.
My lips part on a silent gasp, pain instantly dissolving to pleasure as warmth floods my limbs, crashing into something raw and unrelenting. The pull begins– deep, rhythmic, each draw tugging something vital from me. It should feel like a violation, but instead it’s dangerously intimate. Heat coils along my spine, settling low in my belly and igniting to flame.
My knees buckle, but his arm wraps around my waist instantly, anchoring my body to his as though he anticipated my collapse. I cling to him instinctively, fingers twisting in the immaculate fabric of his suit. Every nerve blazes, every muscle taut, every shiver a plea I can’t articulate.
I surrender to him, but it doesn’t feel like weakness. A delicious ache thrums in my core, thighs clenching against the surge of illicit heat. With his immense frame surrounding me and his fangs in my neck, I feel completely…consumed.
Then, just as quickly as it began, it ends. His fangs retract with a soft pop, tongue flicking lightly over the wound in a final caress that leaves me shivering. A wave of dizziness rolls over me, flushing my skin and trembling through my limbs. An involuntary moan slips from my throat, part of me reluctant for the moment to be over.
James pulls back just enough to let me see him, clear blue eyes alight with fresh curiosity. My pulse is still wild, thoughts scattered, embarrassment coiling in my stomach at the realization that I enjoyed his bite far more than I should have.
He thumbs a single drop from the corner of his lips, humming with quiet intrigue as he drags it over his tongue.
“Your blood is exquisite, darling,” he murmurs.
My chest heaves. My skin buzzes. My legs feel like jelly, but he still hasn’t let go, his grip around my waist anchoring me to this dangerous world I’ve entered.
“You taste like fire and salt,” he muses, almost to himself. “And… something else. Something rare.”
I meet his gaze, startled. “Is that… a good thing?”
The ghost of a smile curves his lips. “Very.”
Once I’m steady on my feet, he steps back smoothly, sliding his phone from the pocket of his slacks and tapping the screen. My own phone chimes in my clutch, signaling that payment has been transferred.
Because this was a business transaction. Nothing more.
I start to fidget, smoothing my hair and glancing toward the door. James follows my gaze, then returns his attention to me, the corner of his mouth lifting infinitesimally.
“You may go, if you wish.”
If I wish?
I hesitate, caught in the magnetic pull of his orbit. Something about the intense look in his eyes makes me feel like leaving would be a mistake– but staying could be a worse one.
I smooth the front of my dress and try to compose myself, willing my shaking hands to steady. “Thank you,” I murmur with a shy smile, turning to start for the door.
His deep voice follows me as I step out into the corridor. “The pleasure was all mine, Marilyn.”
Chapter
Eight
The low hum of my phone vibrating on the coffee table drags me out of sleep, pulling me from dreams of fangs, blood, and dangerously attractive vampires. For a moment I lie still, the edges of the dream clinging like cobwebs and the phantom press of teeth against my skin so vivid that I almost reach up to touch my neck. I consider rolling over and sinking back under, letting myself slip back into that dark, tantalizing dreamscape. But the more consciousness seeps in, the more urgent checking my phone feels.
It could be Bex.
When I left the gala last night, she was still there laughing, flirting, and radiating the kind of boldness that people are instantly charmed by. She thrives in danger, feeds on attention like vamps on blood. ‘Tiffany’ was completely in her element, while ‘Marilyn’ was embarrassingly off-kilter after letting James Devereaux take a bite.
