Chapter 18
Practically giddy with excitement and lust, I let Nick lead me back to the bedroom area of his loft. But once we get there, I start to feel a little shy about the mechanics of it all.
Nick picks up on my reticence. “You can trust me, you know,” he tells me. “I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”
“I know,” I say. “I trust you.” And as I say it, I know it’s true.
“So do you want to…um…” Nick looks down at the bike lock in his hands. Now he seems kind of shy too.
I laugh nervously. “Maybe I’ll just…” I gesture at the bed.
“Good idea.”
I sit on the mattress and slip my feet out of my shoes. Then, swinging my legs up onto the bed, I scoot across the dark-green comforter.
“I’m guessing you’ve never done anything like this before either?” I ask.
“Nope,” says Nick. “You’re my first slayer.”
“Ha, ha,” I say. “You know what I mean.”
“Relax,” says Nick with a smile. “We’re two reasonably intelligent and very horny adults. Something tells me we’ll be able to figure it out.”
I grin back, and I do relax. It’s Nick after all. As I look at him and stretch my right arm out toward the bed frame, it occurs to me that its black metal construction is actually pretty perfect for this sort of thing.
Nick takes my hand and starts to wrap the bike lock’s chain around my wrist, and there’s that dull ache again. I squirm, a little impatient, as wetness pools in my panties. But then he frowns and stops what he’s doing.
“Stumped already?” I tease.
“It’s just…do you want to take your shirt off first?”
I’m still wearing the puffy-shouldered blouse and the dark denim capris that Heather put together for me to hide my newly acquired bulk. The same outfit I wore to brunch, then to meet Jonathan.
I can’t help recalling my ex’s lackluster reaction when he felt the hard contours of the muscles underneath my shirt.
“Sorry,” says Nick quickly. “I didn’t mean to rush things.”
“No,” I say, dropping my arm. “It’s not that. It’s…”
Suddenly, I’m feeling self-conscious. And uncertain. Not about Nick—no, I definitely want to be with Nick, no question about that. It’s just that lately, I’ve been struggling to get comfortable with my own body. So is it any wonder that I’m a little unsure about baring it all to Nick?
“Carrie?” he asks. “Everything okay?”
Just say it, Carrie. Just say it.
“You may not be attracted to my body,” I blurt out.
Nick blinks at me. It feels like an eternity passes before he finally replies. “Of course I’ll be attracted to your body,” he says. “Because it’s your body. And I’m attracted to you .”
I want to believe that. I do. But if Nick ends up judging me because of my appearance, goddammit, I’ll seriously want to slay myself.
“But you have to understand,” I say. “You may not be able to tell because of the way I’m dressed, but my slayer body is different. It’s…bigger. A lot bigger.”
“My vampire body is different too,” says Nick. “It’s cold as ice, and it doesn’t have a heartbeat.” With that, he tosses the bike lock onto the bed and pulls his Nirvana band tee over his head, tossing it to the floor. “Are you still attracted to me ?”
Am I attracted to him?
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
I confess, I’ve tried to imagine what Nick might look like shirtless, but I never imagined this. His broad torso is like a lesson in anatomy, the lean muscles all tight and perfectly defined. I mentally wipe the drool off my chin before I answer his question in a very decisive affirmative.
But even as I manage to croak out a yes, I know that I’m not attracted to Nick’s body just because it’s hot. I’m attracted to his body because it’s his . This latest reveal is just another pixel in the total picture of the guy. And really, it’s the total picture that’s making the temperature of my own body boil, that’s making the beating of my own heart accelerate.
I remind myself that I trust him. I trust Nick. So, dismissing my doubts the best I can, I remove my top. I’m not wearing a bra. With breasts this small, I don’t really need the support, and since the shirt is opaque, there was no reason to put one on for modesty’s sake. Completely naked from the waist up, I cast my shirt onto the floor with Nick’s tee.
I brace myself.
I would say that Nick stares at me without judgment, but that’s not exactly right. The way he takes me in, it’s like he’s a judge in a pie-baking contest, and I’m a fresh-from-the-oven slice of heaven on earth. He looks at me with hunger, as if he wants to devour me.
I feel my nipples tighten under his gaze.
“Nick,” I say, “your fangs.”
They’ve elongated, which yes, based on what he shared earlier, does confirm his attraction. Only problem is their sudden appearance also rouses my slayer.
Nick mutters a curse as we both do battle with our otherworldly natures.
But dammit all to hell, I am not going to let these instincts ruin things for us. Not when we’ve come so far. Not when we’re so, so close.
With everything I have, I tell my alter ego to go screw herself. I mean, this is my body after all. Not hers. I should be able to do what I want with it. And right now, what I want is to get it together with Nick’s body in as many ways as possible, as soon as possible.
Keeping a tight rein on my supernatural impulses, I recline on the mattress and extend my arm toward the bed frame again. “Chain me up,” I say. “Now.”
Probably not the smartest thing to say to a vampire who’s trying to contain his sex drive. My provocative words—coupled with the desperation in my tone—seem to make his fangs grow even longer.
I close my eyes so my slayer can’t see his response. Then I feel his cool hand on my wrist as he presses it against the metal frame. My pulse races under his touch. I’m aware of the weight of the fabric-covered chain as it wraps around me once. Twice.
I hear the snap of the lock, and my exhale of relief is part sigh, part moan. My eyelids flutter open, and my gaze lands on Nick.
“Okay?” he asks.
“Come here,” I say. I lift my free hand up toward his face, and that’s all the invitation he needs.
He joins me on the bed, and we pick up where we left off. But the energy between us has shifted a little. Before, even though we were moving cautiously, there was also an undercurrent of urgency. I think maybe we were both subconsciously playing beat the clock, trying to get as much of each other as we could before my slayer came between us. But now, with my sword arm restrained, it doesn’t feel like we’re trying to get away with something. It feels like we’re really, truly starting something.
And as for the restraint? Well, I have to say, this practical solution to our little problem also adds another level of excitement. I’m surprised by how empowered it makes me feel. Even though I’m restrained, it’s not like I’m giving up control. No, it’s more like I’m taking control.
And I want more.
I drag my mouth away from Nick’s so I can whisper in his ear. “Nick?”
“Hmm?” he murmurs into my hair.
“Maybe we should restrain my other arm too.”
He pulls back a little to look at me. “The sword switches hands?” he asks.
“It hasn’t yet, but…” I bite my lower lip and raise my brows at him suggestively. I know when he gets my meaning because his pupils dilate, and his dark eyes darken even more with desire.
“Well, we can’t be too careful, can we?” he says, playing along with my little ruse.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“But I don’t have another bike lock,” he says.
“We’re two reasonably intelligent and very horny adults,” I reply with a smile, using his words from a little while ago. “Something tells me we’ll be able to figure it out.”
He smiles back, and his dimples are so adorable I want to gobble them up. After a moment, his dark eyes seem to light up with an idea. He sits back on his heels, unfastens his belt, and pulls the leather strap out of the belt loops of his jeans. He holds it out for my inspection. “We could use this,” he says.
The dull ache in my belly gets sharper.
I swallow, nod. “Works for me.”
I stretch my free arm out toward the other side of the black metal bed frame, and Nick crawls over with the belt. The worn leather cuts lightly into my flesh as he secures the strap around my wrist.
“Too tight?” he asks.
I test it, then shake my head. “Nope. I’m good.”
Nick is staring down at me, and I feel his gaze travel over my body, all splayed out for him. The body that lately, I’ve been trying so hard to hide.
“You’re not just good,” he says hoarsely. “You’re incredible.”
He continues to look at me, but I want to feel more than his eyes on me. I want to feel his hands, his mouth, his…everything.
“So are you going to make a move?” I ask. “Or what?”
With a sexy grin, he stretches out next to me. But then, with a glance up at my restraints, he turns my face so he can look directly into my eyes, and he gets a bit serious. “You’re in charge here, all right?” he says. “You have to tell me what’s okay and what’s not okay. You have to tell me what you want.”
And for once in my life, saying what I want is easy. So easy.
“I want you, Nick,” I say simply. “I just want you.”
In response, Nick kisses me long and slow and deep. Leaving me breathless, he starts to make his way down my length, exploring every last inch of me. I lie back against the pillows, writhing and reveling in the caress of his lips on my throat, the weight of his large hand cupping my small breast, the scrape of his teeth against my nipple.
Eventually, those talented fingers of his find their way to the fly of my denim capris. He tugs gently at the waistband. “Can I take these off?”
“Yes,” I say. “Please.” Because I’m really not thinking about my new shape anymore. I’m not thinking, period. I am nothing but soul-deep yearning. For Nick.
I arch up toward him, lifting my butt off the mattress, and he efficiently strips off my pants and panties in a single, swift movement. Fully naked and exposed, I watch him, waiting, thinking he’s going to remove his pants as well. But instead he parts my legs, settles himself between them, and goes back to work on me. I swear, I will never call Nick a slacker ever, ever again.
He kisses his way down my stomach, down to my navel, down even lower. As I wriggle beneath him, his hands press against my hip bones, attempting to hold me still. When the flat of his tongue sweeps across the most intimate part of me, I gasp.
“Jesus,” he says. “You even taste like sunshine.”
His words make me liquefy. Honestly, I’m surprised I don’t just dissolve right into the mattress.
His hands move to my thighs, parting me wider. Then there’s his tongue again, the tip this time, circling and flicking, doing mad, wild things to my clit.
“Is this okay?” he asks, but I feel his words more than hear them, feel his voice vibrating against my skin and his breath blowing across the hot, damp folds of my flesh.
“Yes,” I say. My voice is little more than a whimper.
His tongue pushes inside me, dipping in and out, and the pleasure is so intense it makes me squirm.
He lifts his head slightly, and his gaze is fire. “Is this okay?” he asks again.
“I—yes,” I manage.
Grunting with satisfaction, Nick goes down on me again. It dawns on me that the music ended, probably a while ago. It’s just the staticky scratch of the needle mixing with the sounds of Nick, the sounds of lapping and licking and sucking and groaning that could almost be a song of their own. There are other noises too, noises that are coming from me but don’t sound like me at all.
Suddenly, Nick slides a finger into me. My body bucks, clenching on to him like a lifeline, even as he’s making me drown.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Hmm…”
“Is that a yes?” he asks. He nips at the inside of my thigh.
“Mmm…”
“Carrie. Is that a yes?” he repeats. He curls his finger inside me and runs his thumb over my sex.
“Yes!” I practically shout. “Yes, God, yes!”
I grasp the bed frame and hold on tight, trying to anchor myself, but it’s no use. Liquid heat is already rising inside me. Overflowing. Sweeping me up and away. And lying here, tethered to the bed, I become completely unmoored.
I ride the waves for moments that seem to stretch into hours. When things finally calm to a ripple, Nick withdraws from me and presses a kiss against my sticky, oversensitive skin, eliciting one last shudder.
He peers up the length of my body at me. My vision is still a little unfocused.
“Okay?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
I have to laugh. “I think I left okay in the dust a while back.”
He laughs too. “I meant your arms,” he says, looking up at my restraints. “Do I need to undo them?”
“My arms are fine,” I say. And even though I am thoroughly sated and so wrung out I can barely move, my gaze wanders down to the front of his jeans and the noticeable bulge there. I suck in my bottom lip. “But if you wanted to undo your pants…”
“Whatever you want,” he says thickly.
Nick quickly sheds his remaining clothes, and now I have more evidence than just his long, hard fangs to tell me that he wants me as much as I want him.
“The vampire thing makes condoms unnecessary,” he tells me. “But if you would be more comfortable—”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, I believe you.”
Not bothering to hide his eagerness, he grasps his cock in a way that makes my breath catch. For a moment, I wish my wrists weren’t bound so I could be the one wrapping my hands around him, guiding him inside me. But then again, the restraint also kind of increases my need, kicking my desire up to the next level.
I want to rise toward him, but my limbs are limp. Luckily Nick has enough stamina for the both of us. He hooks my leg around his other arm, lifting and opening me to get a better angle. As he rubs himself against my entrance, I seriously think I might pass out from the anticipation.
He pushes inside me, only I’m too wet and he’s too anxious, and the combination makes him keep slipping out. But then, finally—
Yes.
God, yes.
We find our rhythm, slow and careful at first, just like everything else about this relationship of ours.
“Okay?” asks Nick.
“Just fuck me,” I whisper.
He gives me a wicked grin that flashes his fangs. I’m vaguely aware of my slayer waking up and trying to get between us, but I silently tell her this isn’t a freaking threesome.
Like Nick said, I’m in charge here. It’s kind of thrilling, really, and it adds to the thrill of what’s happening.
Nick cups my ass and lifts me higher, and his thrusts get faster, deeper. Before long, heat is building inside me, a heat that isn’t about vampires and slayers. It’s only about Nick and me.
“Fuck,” says Nick. “I can’t—I—”
“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s okay.”
And as I feel him lose control inside me, I let myself lose control again too.
***
Nick has released my bonds, and we’re lying in his bed, spooned together under his comforter. With the tip of my index finger, I absently trace the ink on the inside of his forearm.
“This looks like your guitar,” I say. “The acoustic one.”
“It is,” he says into my ear. “Donna.”
Donna?
I stop tracing the outline of the tattoo. “Wh-what?”
“My acoustic,” he says softly. “Her name is Donna.”
Is this a thing that musicians do? I wonder. Name their guitars?
About the last thing I want to hear right now is Nick whispering another woman’s name in my ear. Even if it is just the name of his guitar.
Is it just the name of his guitar though?
I’m definitely not going to ask if the acoustic is named after someone. Nope. I am so not going to go there. After everything that’s just passed between us, I definitely don’t want to talk about some other—
“So is there a real Donna?” I ask. I try to keep my voice casual, but I can hear the edge in it, and I’m pretty sure Nick can too.
My heart goes as still as a vampire’s as I wait for Nick’s response. Then, after what feels like centuries, he finally says, “My mom.”
My heart starts to beat again.
“You named your guitar after your mom?” I ask, rolling over to face him.
He nods. “It used to be hers,” he says. “She was a musician too.”
I smile. “I bet she’d be proud of you if she could see you now,” I say. “Following in her footsteps like this.”
He shrugs. “I like to believe that she’d be proud regardless. That she’d just want me to do whatever makes me happy.”
What a concept , I think.
I’d like to believe that about my mother too. Only I know better.
But before I start going down that rabbit hole, I stop myself. I don’t want to think about my mom or my family drama. I just want to think about Nick and me. That’s what makes me happy.
I snuggle closer to him, and he hugs me tighter.
“It’s almost sunrise,” he says after a few minutes.
I glance at one of the tightly shielded windows. “How do you know?” I ask.
“I can sense it,” he tells me.
A few days ago, this would have sounded strange, but in less than a week, so much has changed. I nod.
“When the sun comes up,” he continues, “I’m going to fall asleep, and you won’t be able to wake me up. It’ll look like I’m dead, but I’m not. I’m—”
“Undead,” I say.
“Undead,” he says, suppressing a yawn.
I run my hand lightly along the line of his jaw. His eyes start to drift shut, but he fights to keep them open.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” he says sleepily.
I think about it, but then I shake my head. “I should probably go,” I say. “If you’re out cold, and I fall asleep, I don’t know if I can trust my…”
“Slayer,” he murmurs.
“Slayer,” I echo.
We just look at each other for a moment or two longer.
“Tonight,” he says finally, ending the silence, “was…”
Before he can finish his sentence, Nick rolls onto his back, and he’s out. But considering the smile on his face—and the similar smile stretching across my own—I don’t have any trouble filling in the blank.
Out of nowhere, Eddie Van Halen—the cat, that is—jumps up onto the mattress, startling me. His white paws pad across the comforter, and he climbs gingerly on top of Nick. After circling around a couple of times and kneading at the bedding with his claws, he settles in a ball on Nick’s chest in a way that makes me think that this is their regular daily routine. I’m glad Nick won’t be alone all day.
“Take care of him, Eddie,” I say as I give the cat a little scratch behind the ears.
Then I smooth my hand over Nick’s hair and gently kiss him goodbye before I get out of bed and locate my clothes.
Getting dressed is a bit of a challenge though, because I can barely stop myself from doing a little happy dance. There are no words to express my bliss. I feel like I’m floating.
The only thing that keeps me somewhat grounded is that, on my way out, I notice that the wall by the bedpost where my sword arm was restrained is ever so slightly singed.