Eternal by V. Forrest (new reading TXT) 📗

Since when did a man want to talk instead of have sex?

“And I want you to be, too,” he went on. “At least just for a minute.”

She stroked his cheek, drawing her finger along his jawline. He had a very nice jawline, sharp, but not too sharp, and taut skin that was just slightly rough with the day’s beard growth. “I know you’re serious. And so am I. Why do you think I’m cracking jokes? It scares the hell out of me, that’s why.”

“What does?”

She looked down, then forced herself to look up again. She’d faced some of the world’s most terrifying killers, alone, in the dark, and she honestly thought this was harder. More terrifying. “It scares me to think that you and I…that I…”

“That you have a thing for me?” His voice was deep, sexy. Just a hint of tease to it. He was trying to make it easier for her.

“Yeah.”

“Because?”

He was doing it again. That stroking thing. Fia could feel what little fight she had left in her melting away. Whatever idea she’d had of stopping short of actually doing the dirty deed was nonexistent, though it hadn’t started out that way. The first time he’d kissed her, she’d told herself she’d just kissed him back out of curiosity. Same for the second kiss. The third. The breast caress. But now she was hot and bothered all over, her panties were damp, and she knew very well they were headed for the bedroom. The living-room floor if they didn’t get moving soon.

She knew she shouldn’t have sex with Glen and knew all the reasons why, the fact that he was a human and a colleague only two of the top ten. But she also knew that she was going to have sex with him. And she could accept that. She could accept that she would have to feel properly regretful later. She’d been Catholic for four hundred years; she was good with guilt. But what she was having a hard time accepting was the tumble of feelings that seemed to be attached to this tumble. Fia wasn’t just sexually attracted to Glen. She…liked him.

“Tell me why this scares you,” Glen said softly.

He was still doing that thing with his thumb, only he had slid his hand over her shoulder so that his fingertips were resting lightly on her breast. Sending shockwaves through her that hardened her nipples and made her so uncomfortable below the belt that she wanted to squirm.

She was having a difficult time concentrating on the question.

“I don’t want you to be scared, Fee.”

“Of this?” She made a weak attempt at a chuckle. “Please, Glen, don’t tell me you think I’m a virgin.”

He didn’t grin back. “I’m serious about being serious. This, between me and you, doesn’t have anything to do with breaking my engagement. It has everything to do with you. I think I fell for you that day in the post office with your uncle standing beside me and the stink of Bobby McCathal’s burnt flesh in my nose.”

She could feel herself crumbling inside. To most women, what he’d said wouldn’t have sounded very romantic. But for a woman who had had her share of romance with no substance behind it, his words were sweet nothings to her ear.

“And I think,” he went on, “that you knew there was something there, too.”

“Okay, so you got that off your chest. Will you kiss me again now?”

He brushed the tip of her nose with his and she tried to reach his mouth, but he moved away from her.

“You have to say it,” he whispered.

“Say what? That I thought you were hot?”

“Of course you thought I was hot.” He drew his lips along her cheekbone. “But I want you to say that you liked me from day one,” he whispered in her ear. “I want you to say you wanted to get me into the sack the first time those blue eyes of yours saw me.”

She giggled. He was making her hotter by the second. “What, are we in the third grade?”

“No, but close. FBI.”

She giggled again. Felt stupid. And yet so good deep down inside. Inside where she was dancing. Singing. He likes me! He likes me!

He brought his hand up under her breast and squeezed gently.

She was unable to stifle a moan.

“Say it.”

His mouth, magical, magnetic, pulled at hers. She slid her hand over his waist, over his abs that were still minus a love handle, over his hip, to the rise in his chinos.

“Say it.” It was almost guttural this time.

“I like you,” she whispered.

“Say it again,” he taunted as he pushed her back on the couch, crawling over her, hovering, his mouth only centimeters from hers.

She looked up into his eyes and shared one of those moments she knew, only too sadly, rarely took place in a man’s or a woman’s lifetime. For a moment, for the briefest moment, both of them lowered their guards. In his eyes, she saw the pain of his breakup with Stacy, his fear of letting Fia see who he truly was.

“I like you,” she whispered.

He rewarded her with a kiss that took her breath from deep in her chest and left her panting, aching, a thin sheen of perspiration on her forehead.

Fia allowed Glen to remove her T-shirt and toss it on the living-room floor. Next came her sweatpants. She started to wiggle out of her pale blue thong panties, but he rested his hand on the feminine mound between her thighs.

“Not yet,” he breathed in her ear, sliding his finger into the crease of the sleek silk.

She moaned and brushed her lips across his neck. Nibbled, but did not bite. She could feel the blood pumping through the thick carotid artery; hot, sweet, pungent blood. But she did not bite…would not.

Fia lifted her hips against his hand and wrapped both arms around his neck, opening her mouth to his. He thrust his tongue and finger at the