Adrenaline rushed through his veins. Harlan planted his feet on the floor, bracing himself to stand at the slightest sign of her capitulation. “Is that a yes?”
“Would this be permanent?”
“Absolutely.”
She chewed on her lip for a moment. He could see the sacrifices she would have to make weighing on her, battling with the yearning that was written so plainly on her face. “Do I have to decide right now?”
Harlan stiffened as the spicy scent of desire reached him. It was the thinnest thread in the air, but it wasthere.
“No,”he managed to grate out. Sucking in a deep breath, desperate to get that scent in his lungs, on his fucking tongue, the great Harlan Bounds found himself begging, “What would it take to convince you? What do you need? I’ll give you the world if you ask for it, pet. I’ll give you fuckinganything.”
He watched the dark circles of Zia’s pupils expand. “I want to go on more dates like this. Romantic ones. Fancy ones, even.” Her smile was small, fleeting, but so full of breathless delight it cut him to the quick. “I want to get to know you. I want to know more about your life, your… past, even if it’s ugly. I want to know more about what I’m getting into.”
“You want to know what you’re getting into?” Harlan stood up slowly from his chair. The sound of her sharp gasp, the increasingly potent scent of her arousal, the soft, almost fearful look in her eyes as she watched him, were enough to make him lose his damn mind.
Fuck patience. Fuck the year he spent pining after her. He wanted a taste, and he was damn-well going to get it.
Prowling around the table, he first crossed the room to lock the door and then stalked back to her. In one quick movement, he grasped the armrests of her chair and spun it to the side. She let out a smalleepof surprise, but the sound faded into nothing as she stared up at him with her lips parted.
Harlan shrugged out of his suit jacket and threw it onto the back of his chair. Next, he loosened his black silk tie. Eyes on her flushed cheeks, he gently but firmly used the toe of his dress shoe to nudge her feet apart with one swift tap.
That seemed to wake her up from her daze. Fingers curling around her chair’s armrests, she squeaked, “What are you doing, Mr. Bounds?”
Dropping to his knees, he palmed her thighs beneath the hem of her skirt and slowly pulled them apart. “I’m going to show you what you’re getting into,” he answered, using his grip to drag her towards the edge of the seat. “Now, pet, when I make you come, I want you to call meHarlan.”
ChapterEleven
Fantasy,Zia realized, was a hollow, sugary thing.
Her gauzy dreams of Harlan momentarily satisfied a craving, but inevitably left her hungrier than before. So she dreamed more, imagined being with that shadowy figure a hundred different ways, to chase that weak burst of satisfaction.
Fantasy built up a habit of taste and consumption, daydream and desire, until she thought she knew what it would be like to have him between her legs.
She was wrong.
When he knelt between her thighs, Zia realized that she had been living off of nothing but spun sugar. The real thing was as rich and heady as the wine in her forgotten glass. She wanted to drink and drink and drink until there was nothing left.
His hands were hot on her thighs. The thin barrier of her tights seem to somehow enhance the sensation of his firm touch, not muffle it. His fingertips pressed hard as he pulled her legs apart, making room for himself in the gap.
Her heart felt like it was beating too fast — spurred on by a potent mix of adrenaline, instinctive fear, and a desire so all-consuming, it edged on pain.
When he dipped his head to give the soft inner curve of her knee a searing kiss, she let out a whimper. Every nerve jumped. Her fingers curled into the armrests of her chair until the beds of her nails turned white.
He swept his tongue over the thin material of her tights, dampening it. Goosebumps broke out across her skin. His breath ghosted over the wet spot when he looked up at her, his gaze predator-sharp. “How much do you value these tights, pet?”
Zia could barely manage human speech. Breathing hard, she whispered, “Not very much.”
A smile quirked the corners of his mouth. It was tiny, but she marveled at the sight of it. When Mr. Bounds —Harlan,she reminded herself — smiled, it took decades off of his face.
She rather liked his distinguished look, but Zia enjoyed that spark of humor far more.
“Good.” Harlan flattened his tongue against her inner thigh and slowly dragged it up, leaving a cool trail from knee to cunt. Molten heat flowed through her veins and settled between her thighs as she watched his dark, gray-streaked head move ever-upward. “I want to bite holes in these damn things,” he muttered, pausing to press another hard, sucking kiss to the softest part of her thigh. “But then other people might see your pretty legs, and I can’t fucking have that.”
Zia tried not to squirm in her seat. “Do— do you want me to take them off?”
His thumbs pushed her skirt up until it was bunched around her waist. “No. I’ll just have to be strategic about where I tear.” Nearing the gusset of her tights, he commanded, “Hold your skirt up for me, pet.”
She hurried to obey him, her body moving without any thought of resistance or coquettish hesitancy. She wanted him to tear up her tights until they were nothing but ribbons. She wanted this terrifying vampire to pry her legs apart and lick her until she came. Ziawantedhim to use those fangs on her.
