Nightwalker
Page 24
“Well, I don’t know about Arabic or Sanskrit, but I can read French.”
He looked at her, his brow shooting up. “Really? It’s an old version of French, probably as easy to read as old English.”
“I think I can manage. I may be only half a century old, but I am well read. Self-taught, but good enough. What am I looking for?” She reached across him for the volume in French and her scent, the scent of sweet strawberries, assaulted him. He took a deep breath, unable to help himself, his eyes closing as the pleasure of the smell wended into him.
“It’s called the Witness Reflection,” he said, willing himself not to breathe deeply again.
She moved away from him, thank the gods, and sat down on the couch, pulling up her skirt so she could cross her legs Indian style. She settled the book into the well of her lap and promptly began to thumb through the pages.
“This is very clearly written. If it’s in here it should be easy to find,” she said. “Too bad there isn’t a table of contents.”
“That would be too easy,” he said wryly in response.
“I suppose so. But this will be easier than Sanskrit. Or Arabic.”
“Arabic is easy once you get the trick of it. Perhaps I’ll teach you,” he said. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and she immediately beamed at him.
“Would you? I’m a very fast learner.”
“I’m sure you are. Let’s focus on the task before us for the moment.”
“Of course,” she agreed, and then buckled down to her reading.
Kamen tried to do the same, but he could swear he could smell her from across the room. As a Nightwalker his senses were very keen. His eyesight in the dark was perfect, his palate refined, his hearing acute. But was his sense of smell so keen that he could smell her from such a distance…or was it only his imagination?
He decided it was just a matter of keen senses. Why would he imagine such a thing? He was a man of cold hard facts. He was not given to fanciful notions.
They studied together in silence for a good half an hour, each making slow progress through their works; though his was somewhat slower because he was constantly distracted by her smell. How did she manage to smell like that? Was it some kind of perfume? A body wash perhaps? Whatever it was it was delectable; it made him think about whether or not her skin would taste like strawberries as well.
He was doing it again! Allowing himself to get wrapped up in ridiculous fancy! What was it about her that had him fantasizing about her in the most peculiar ways?
“I found it!” she cried suddenly. “At least, I think I did. Is this it?”
She leapt up and hurried over to him, shoving the book and the scent of strawberries under his nose.
He didn’t even look at the book. He grabbed hold of her arm as he surged out of his seat, towering over her.
“What is this spell?” he asked accusatorily. “What magic have you used?”
“Magic? I-It’s the spell you’re looking for…”
“I want to know what you’ve done to me!”
“D-done? I haven’t done anything!”
“Oh yes, you have. You touch me and my body burns with heat, you come close to me and I am assailed by your scent and the desire to lick you from head to toe. This is some kind of spell! A lust spell or something. What is it?” His grip on her arm tightened and he jerked her body up against his. He pressed his face to the side of her neck and drew a deep breath.
“I’ve never cast a spell in my life!” she cried.
“Then what is this?”
“I don’t know! I…I feel it too! You…you smell like bergamot. Every time I come near you I smell bergamot and it smells so good.” She moaned when his lips stroked the side of her neck. “Please…please…”
“Please what? Please break this spell or please throw myself into it? Which shall I do?” he demanded to know.
“There’s no spell! I swear, I would never do that.”
“So this is naturally occurring? I find that hard to believe. I am not a man prone to lust. And that is what I feel when you are near me like this. Unadulterated lust.”
She gasped when his tongue came to touch the soft side of her neck and then licked its way slowly upward. When he reached her hair he cursed sharply. “You even fucking taste like strawberries.”
He had not struck her as a man who swore so baldly, so like everything else, it shocked her to her core. But she didn’t have time to process his hard words because his hard mouth was crushed against hers in the very next moment. There were no niceties, no preamble. He thrust his tongue into hot hard contact with hers, tangling them together. She moaned at the rawness of it, at the deep pleasure it sent whipping through her. She had never known such heat, such intensity. She had never even come close. She had never even kissed a man until she had kissed him. None had wanted her. Not even as a curiosity.
His hands came to her back, dragging her up against him, pressing his body flush to hers. She was instantly aware of his erection through the soft material of his slacks. She blushed hotly and as habit went to cover her cheeks. But his hands suddenly gripped her wrists and pulled them forward, wrapping her arms around his lean, muscular body. She pressed her palms to his back, feeling the play of muscles there as he wrapped his arms around her and dragged her deep into the bend of his body.
Kamen’s heart was racing, as though it would bolt out of his chest if given the chance. His body was hard with desire for her, his tongue full of the sweet taste of her. He devoured her like a man starved for food would devour even the smallest morsel. That was how she made him feel. As if he had been parched for a lifetime and she, finally, was his drink.
He stroked her back, satisfying his craving for the feel of her only minutely. Then he swept his touch to the front of her body, filling his hand with the warm weight of her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra, he realized instantly. The dress she wore had a built-in shelf bra. That left her next to bare, allowing him to feel the puckering of her nipple when it happened. He groaned, feeling himself harden even more because of it. He could tell she was being swept away, just as he was. He wondered how far she would let him take her.
He broke from her mouth, panting hard as he pressed their foreheads together. “What have you done to me?” he asked her in a hoarse whisper.
He looked at her, his brow shooting up. “Really? It’s an old version of French, probably as easy to read as old English.”
“I think I can manage. I may be only half a century old, but I am well read. Self-taught, but good enough. What am I looking for?” She reached across him for the volume in French and her scent, the scent of sweet strawberries, assaulted him. He took a deep breath, unable to help himself, his eyes closing as the pleasure of the smell wended into him.
“It’s called the Witness Reflection,” he said, willing himself not to breathe deeply again.
She moved away from him, thank the gods, and sat down on the couch, pulling up her skirt so she could cross her legs Indian style. She settled the book into the well of her lap and promptly began to thumb through the pages.
“This is very clearly written. If it’s in here it should be easy to find,” she said. “Too bad there isn’t a table of contents.”
“That would be too easy,” he said wryly in response.
“I suppose so. But this will be easier than Sanskrit. Or Arabic.”
“Arabic is easy once you get the trick of it. Perhaps I’ll teach you,” he said. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and she immediately beamed at him.
“Would you? I’m a very fast learner.”
“I’m sure you are. Let’s focus on the task before us for the moment.”
“Of course,” she agreed, and then buckled down to her reading.
Kamen tried to do the same, but he could swear he could smell her from across the room. As a Nightwalker his senses were very keen. His eyesight in the dark was perfect, his palate refined, his hearing acute. But was his sense of smell so keen that he could smell her from such a distance…or was it only his imagination?
He decided it was just a matter of keen senses. Why would he imagine such a thing? He was a man of cold hard facts. He was not given to fanciful notions.
They studied together in silence for a good half an hour, each making slow progress through their works; though his was somewhat slower because he was constantly distracted by her smell. How did she manage to smell like that? Was it some kind of perfume? A body wash perhaps? Whatever it was it was delectable; it made him think about whether or not her skin would taste like strawberries as well.
He was doing it again! Allowing himself to get wrapped up in ridiculous fancy! What was it about her that had him fantasizing about her in the most peculiar ways?
“I found it!” she cried suddenly. “At least, I think I did. Is this it?”
She leapt up and hurried over to him, shoving the book and the scent of strawberries under his nose.
He didn’t even look at the book. He grabbed hold of her arm as he surged out of his seat, towering over her.
“What is this spell?” he asked accusatorily. “What magic have you used?”
“Magic? I-It’s the spell you’re looking for…”
“I want to know what you’ve done to me!”
“D-done? I haven’t done anything!”
“Oh yes, you have. You touch me and my body burns with heat, you come close to me and I am assailed by your scent and the desire to lick you from head to toe. This is some kind of spell! A lust spell or something. What is it?” His grip on her arm tightened and he jerked her body up against his. He pressed his face to the side of her neck and drew a deep breath.
“I’ve never cast a spell in my life!” she cried.
“Then what is this?”
“I don’t know! I…I feel it too! You…you smell like bergamot. Every time I come near you I smell bergamot and it smells so good.” She moaned when his lips stroked the side of her neck. “Please…please…”
“Please what? Please break this spell or please throw myself into it? Which shall I do?” he demanded to know.
“There’s no spell! I swear, I would never do that.”
“So this is naturally occurring? I find that hard to believe. I am not a man prone to lust. And that is what I feel when you are near me like this. Unadulterated lust.”
She gasped when his tongue came to touch the soft side of her neck and then licked its way slowly upward. When he reached her hair he cursed sharply. “You even fucking taste like strawberries.”
He had not struck her as a man who swore so baldly, so like everything else, it shocked her to her core. But she didn’t have time to process his hard words because his hard mouth was crushed against hers in the very next moment. There were no niceties, no preamble. He thrust his tongue into hot hard contact with hers, tangling them together. She moaned at the rawness of it, at the deep pleasure it sent whipping through her. She had never known such heat, such intensity. She had never even come close. She had never even kissed a man until she had kissed him. None had wanted her. Not even as a curiosity.
His hands came to her back, dragging her up against him, pressing his body flush to hers. She was instantly aware of his erection through the soft material of his slacks. She blushed hotly and as habit went to cover her cheeks. But his hands suddenly gripped her wrists and pulled them forward, wrapping her arms around his lean, muscular body. She pressed her palms to his back, feeling the play of muscles there as he wrapped his arms around her and dragged her deep into the bend of his body.
Kamen’s heart was racing, as though it would bolt out of his chest if given the chance. His body was hard with desire for her, his tongue full of the sweet taste of her. He devoured her like a man starved for food would devour even the smallest morsel. That was how she made him feel. As if he had been parched for a lifetime and she, finally, was his drink.
He stroked her back, satisfying his craving for the feel of her only minutely. Then he swept his touch to the front of her body, filling his hand with the warm weight of her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra, he realized instantly. The dress she wore had a built-in shelf bra. That left her next to bare, allowing him to feel the puckering of her nipple when it happened. He groaned, feeling himself harden even more because of it. He could tell she was being swept away, just as he was. He wondered how far she would let him take her.
He broke from her mouth, panting hard as he pressed their foreheads together. “What have you done to me?” he asked her in a hoarse whisper.
