Dearest Ivie Page 4

  There was a pause, and then his voice got even lower. "May I come over."

  Ivie closed her eyes as her body went loose. "It's so close to dawn."

  "I won't stay the day. I promise. I just want to see you for even an hour. The night after tomorrow is a long time."

  "I feel the same way. Give me fifteen minutes."

  Talk about hustle. The second she ended the call, she was up on her feet and in the shower, going through her soap, shampoo, and conditioner routine at a dead run. She spun through it all so fast, she could confidently relate to socks in a dryer.

  Twelve and a half minutes later, she was dry, in yoga pants and a loose shirt, and out in the kitchen, shoving her First Meal dishes into the sink and making an orderly pile of the two days of mail she hadn't opened.

  The buzzer went off six minutes after that.

  Not that she was counting or anything.

  Hitting the release for the downstairs door, her heart went Mayweather in her chest as she waited for the knock.

  "Screw it."

  Opening her door, she leaned out into the carpeted corridor...and there he was, coming down to her, his smile as big as hers, his body just the same, his face just the same.

  His scent just the same.

  No suit this time, and that was good. Instead, he had on a black cashmere sweater and a set of slacks that were dark gray. He looked polished, expensive...delicious.

  "Hello, stranger," she said as he stopped in front of her.

  "Hi."

  They stood there, her hanging off the jamb of her door, him out in the hall for about twenty-five years.

  "Do you mind?" he whispered.

  "I'm sorry, what?"

  But then he was taking her face in his hands and lowering his head--and she was pulling him down to her mouth, his lips the only thing she wanted in the world.

  It was quite possible she moaned as he kissed her. Or maybe that was him. Who cared.

  They shuffled inside and she closed them in, and then she was against him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. It was a long while before they eased back, and even when they did, it was just their mouths. Everything else stayed close.

  Silas's eyes were heavy lidded and glowing as he stared down at her. "Hi."

  "Hello."

  "Guess that's all we've got for vocabulary, huh."

  "Mmm-hmm. But words are overrated, don't you think?"

  "If I can be kissing you instead? Absolutely."

  His mouth dropped down to hers again, his lips plying at her, his tongue coming out and licking for permission to enter. Broad, warm hands slipped around to her waist, and her breasts got tight as they met the wall of his pecs.

  It was clear he was aroused.

  And that got her even hotter.

  But then he was cursing and putting her back from him. "Damn it. I promised myself I wouldn't--"

  "Do I look like I'm complaining over here?"

  Silas smiled, but then went on a pace. Which lasted all of about four steps away to the sofa. With his back to her, his hands disappeared in front of his hips and she could guess what he was rearranging.

  She closed her eyes and swayed at the thought of touching him.

  "This isn't a booty call."

  Ivie opened her lids and discovered he'd turned back around. "You know, I'm impressed an aristocrat knows that saying. Very vernacular."

  His expression grew serious. "I don't understand."

  "Vernacular? Like, common talk."

  "Not that." He came back over to her. "I don't understand how I can miss someone I just met."

  She reached up and touched his face, tracing her fingertips over his jaw, his chin...his jugular. She had to consciously stop herself from thinking about what his vein would be like. If she immolated now, she would never know the reality of tasting him again.

  "It's called infatuation," she joked. "Also known as the chemical attraction created by the Scribe Virgin to ensure propagation of the species."

  As a shadow passed over his face, she felt badly. "I'm sorry. Were you trying to be romantic and I just ruined it? I'm bad at romance, Silas. It's another thing you might as well know about me up front."

  He was quiet for so long, she started to wonder if she had ruined things before they'd begun. But then he shook his head. "I love your honesty. And I feel like I owe some back to you."

  Now, her heart beat hard, but not from sexual anticipation. "Is this where you tell me you're actually mated--"

  "Not at all. I swear on the soul of my dearly departed mahmen, may she rest in peace unto the Fade, that I am totally single and seeing no one except you. But can I kiss you again? Because that is the only thing I want to concentrate on right now."

  She laughed. "Yes. Please."

  They ended up on the couch. She had no idea how they got there.

  One minute, Ivie was standing against him, the next she was on her back and Silas's weight was pushing her into the cushions. And then, when she parted her thighs, he accepted the invitation, settling himself between them, the hard ridge of his arousal stroking at her core through their clothes.

  Rolling her hips, she arched into his body, and the groan he let out registered as a caress that went down into her abdomen.

  When he pulled back, he was panting, his eyes at once glazed and hyper-focused. "Ivie..."

  There was a question in the way he said her name, and her first thought, because he was an aristocrat, was that he was asking The Big One.

  "I'm not a virgin." She brushed his hair back, the strands thick and cool between her fingers. "I don't know whether it matters to you, but either way, that's what's up and I am not ashamed of it."

  His smile was wry. "Well, neither am I. A virgin, that is. I hope that doesn't make you think less of me."

  "Not at all." She laughed. "After three centuries, you'd have to be a eunuch."

  "I haven't been celibate. But I don't have a rotating door to my bedroom."

  "If you look down that hall"--she nodded to the left--"you'll notice that I don't have one of those as part of my decor, either."

  "Something else we have in common. What else can there be?"

  "I'm pretty sure you want to have sex as badly as I do right now."

  He closed his eyes. "Female, you are..."

  "Too up front, right?"

  "No. Never that. I...it's what I like best about you--and let me tell you, that's saying something. Because there is a lot I like about you."

  His eyes did another of that roam thing they tended to do, as if he wanted to memorize her features--which suggested he, too, might have been snow-globing their time together, just like her.

  "I thought I loved him," she blurted. "Just so you know."

  "The male you were with?"

  She nodded. "There was only the one, and I really thought we were going to be together forever. But it was just--you know, two young people, crashing into each other, trying to figure life out. I was with him for a year and I have no regrets. He's a male of worth, just not for me longer term. He lives down in South Carolina now, and if he comes to town to visit family, I will see him and wish him well. But there's not...you know, there's not anything there."

  Silas brushed her lips with his own. "So you're telling me I don't have to worry about any competition?"

  "I'm afraid to answer that."

  "Why?"

  "Guess."

  To stop the conversation, she slipped a hand behind his neck and brought him back to her, their mouths re-fusing, that fire breaking free of all constraints even though there were so many reasons to be more...well, reasonable.

  She had never had a one-night stand before. But as a fully independent adult, she was not going to be bound by social expectations in the still-conservative vampire community. After all, she couldn't get pregnant, because she wasn't in her needing. And he certainly didn't know her parents--so unless she chose to introduce him to them, no one would ever know. Sure, he'd met Rubes that first
night, but if Ivie didn't blab, her cousin wouldn't be the wiser.

  This was private.

  "I want to see all of you," he said. "Please...just let me..."

  He didn't have to ask twice. As he moved back, she was the one who took her loose shirt up and over her head, her plain cotton bra nothing special--because she hadn't really thought this through to lingerie.

  Not that she had much of the silk-and-lacey.

  Silas's eyes clung to her breasts. And then he was dipping down and running his lips over her collarbone. "You're so beautiful."

  "I'm still covered," she moaned.

  "But it doesn't matter what you look like." He lifted his head and stared at her. "The details of size and shape don't matter to me. The fact that it is you...that is what makes it beautiful to me."

  Time slowed and then stopped altogether.

  Shaking her head, she whispered, "Why do you always say the right thing."

  He mumbled something she didn't quite catch.

  "What?" she gasped as he kissed down to her sternum.

  "Nothing."

  And then she forgot all about talking because his lips were traveling over the thin cotton of her bra, brushing over her tight nipple, sucking her in through the fabric.

  "Oh, God...Silas."

  Chapter Four

  The clasp was in the front.

  Sure, Ivie had missed the Victoria's Secret boat, but she'd been smart without knowing it: As Silas's hands went to that closure, she was glad she'd made it easy for them--because all it took was a click and twist...and then his eyes were on her breasts.

  "Beautiful..."

  Gentle fingertips drifted over her skin like summer air and she arched her back to meet them. In response, he cursed and dropped his head, putting his mouth on her without any barriers, his tongue teasing and licking at her nipple as one of his arms went around the small of her back. God, she loved the strength of him and the feel of him, his scent and the promise of more making her--

  The sound of her phone ringing on the coffee table brought his head up.

  "Don't stop," she groaned. "Oh, God...please."

  Silas's attention was instantly refocused and she speared her hands into his hair, rubbing her core against where he lay between her legs. In the back of her mind, she knew this was it, they were going to have sex, and it was going to be phenomenal, and yes, it was a little early--

  But hell no, she didn't frickin' care.

  As if he could read her mind, he lifted himself up and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her yoga pants. "Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely sure."

  With a growl, his fangs fully descended, the bright white tips peeking out between his parted lips, his body seeming to grow even larger over her as his animal side came out. Putting her hands on his, she helped him start to draw down her--

  Her phone went off again, the ringing sound cutting through the sizzle, halting the pants-off process before it even got started.

  "Do you want to get that?" he said in a guttural voice.

  "No, I--" She cursed. "It's my father. It's...he wants to know if I got home all right."

  He'd probably called while she'd been in the shower. And knowing him, he was going to keep on dialing until he materialized over here.

  Oh, that would be great.

  "Are you sure you don't want to answer that?" Silas prompted as the thing kept making noise.

  "Gimme a sec."

  Grabbing her shirt, she held it to her bare breasts and slid out from under him, her bra flopping around because the straps were still up on her shoulders. With her damp hair, and her all-undone, and a bitch of an ache in her lower body, she reached for the phone just as the call went into voicemail.

  Sloughing off the bra, she pulled the shirt over her head and took a deep breath. Then she called her dad back.

  As she waited for the male to pick up, she had to face away from Silas. He was no doubt sitting back on the sofa cushions with his own version of messy hair and rumpled clothing--not the kind of sexy display you wanted to be staring at when your father--

  "Hi, Dad! Oh, yeah, no, I'm sorry. I got home and went right into the shower, and then I was fixing something to eat and left my phone in my purse. What? I know. Uh-huh. Yup. Of course. She is? Oh, that's--what? Ah...sure. I'd love to. Looking forward to it. No, it'll just be me. Tell Mom I said I love her. Okay. Yup. Uh-huh. Right--look, Dad, I'm sorry to cut you off, but my dinner is getting cold. I love you, too. Yes, I paid the cable. No, I have plenty of money. You don't have to take care of me, remember? I'm grown up now. Okay. Love--love you. Yup...okay. Bye."

  As she tried to get off, she leaned down closer and closer to the coffee table, like she was on an old-fashioned phone that had a receiver you could hang up.

  And then she was free and turning back around.

  Silas was indeed in lounging recline on the couch, one arm stretched across the back, the other resting on a throw pillow he'd put on his lap for a good reason. But it looked like "dinner" had absolutely cooled. His face was remote, his eyes no longer burning, his body stiff, although not, she sensed, because he was ready to jump her anymore.

  "That was my dad," she said. Duh.

  "There's a lot of love there. I can tell." He smiled briefly. "Listen, I've got to go. I drove here, and I need to leave now before it gets too light."

  Ivie crossed her arms over her chest. "Okay."

  After a moment, he shifted his legs around her and got to his feet. "Can I come see you tomorrow night when you get off work?"

  Her brows lifted. "Yes. Please. That would be great."

  "All right. I'm looking forward to it already."

  The smile he gave her was a shadow of the ones that stretched his cheeks and flashed his teeth, and it was hard not to ask him if she'd done something wrong. But come on, she told herself. They had both been into it. And then her father had called. And then the mood had changed.

  She wasn't exactly feeling the same, either.

  "Come here," he said.

  Standing up, she went to him, and as they hugged, she closed her eyes and laid her head on his pecs. "I'm glad you came over."

  I'm also confused. And stupidly worried. And really disappointed we stopped.

  Ivie kept all that to herself. It was so close to dawn and she didn't want him gunning through Caldwell in a rush and getting into an accident, just because she started a conversation that was possibly a big one. Besides, what she was really doing was grasping around for some kind of bedrock when in fact there was none. Even assuming he was willing to articulate what had changed for him, he couldn't give her what she was really after.

  Which was some kind of guarantee she wasn't going to get hurt. Let down. Disappointed.

  Silas was the one who pulled away, but he stopped at her door. "I'm so sorry."

  His voice was strained, and for a second, she weakened and wanted to beg him to stay with her, all day, just to figure stuff out.

  "Don't be." She marshaled a smile. "It's all good."

  "I'm just...so sorry I'm out of time."

  "We have tomorrow night, right? So it'll be fine."

  "Yes. Indeed."

  Silas lifted his hand and then let himself out, and as she went over and locked the deadbolt behind him, she hated the internal heebs she was rocking. This was the bad side of the snow globe stuff, though, this jittery, sloshy feeling in her head and her body the result of caring way too much about something she had no control over.

  Yeah, and then there was the sexual frustration.

  Glancing over to the sofa, her first instinct was to straighten the cushions and smooth out the dents their bodies had made. But then she thought, No. That would be like erasing what had just happened. Or maybe cutting off their future.

  Not that she was superstitious or anything.

  Nah.

  Crap, she thought. What was it about meeting someone you liked that messed you up so much? She was the original granite countertop, so
hard and resilient, you could dice an onion on her and ruin the blade of the knife before she gave an inch. Yet here she was, pulling a chick move by hyper-concentrating on some guy.

  She was, in this insecure moment, the very female she did not respect.

  Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

  * * *

  --

  Ivie ended up back on her couch, with her head down where it had been and her legs stretched out as they had been. Across the way, on the old steamer trunk she had refurbished on her own, the TV was muted and showing one of the eight hundred Rocky films. A throw blanket that had been knit by her mom was over her lower half, and a half-eaten bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats was on the coffee table.

  It was six forty-eight a.m.

  And she knew she wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon. Up above her and on either side, her human cohabitants were stirring, getting ready for the day. With her sharp sense of smell, she caught all kinds of coffee scents, hazelnut and regular, peppermint, a pumpkin holdover from the fall. And her keen hearing picked up the flushing of toilets, the padding of feet, the rush of showers.

  If she was exhausted enough to fall asleep before all this activity started, she could make it through, no problem. But awake as she was now, there was no chance of drifting off until the last of them emptied out of the building around eight-thirty--

  As her phone rang, she turned her head and looked at it. The thing was facedown next to her cereal bowl, and she really wasn't interested in whoever it was. Which was a limited list considering her father had checked in two hours ago: There was work, with someone looking for her to sub on a night she wasn't working on. Or a telemarketer. Or a human misdial.

  In the unlikely event it was her parents, she threw out a hand and picked--

  Ivie sat up and accepted the call. "Silas?"

  There was a moment of silence...and then his deep voice. "Hi."

  "Hello." She pushed her hair out of her face. "Are you okay? Wait, I mean...well, if you were wrapped around a telephone pole right now, you wouldn't be able to dial a phone."

  "Because I'd be on fire."

  "Yeah." There was a pause. "I'm glad you called."

  "Listen, we need to talk."

  She closed her eyes. "Okay."

  There was another period of quiet. "I know this is too soon and all, but the truth is..."

  "Say it. Whatever it is, I'm going to be okay. I'm tough. I can handle anything."