Matteo eases onto his shoulder, so he's at my side on the bed. And then somehow, he's pulled me on top of him, quicker than a blink. My heart's beating so fast it's like a wild animal caged by my ribs, rattling my bones to escape.
"Sit up so I can see you, Evangeline."
I comply, and his hands cup my breasts, the silver moonlight splashing on my bare flesh. I'm straddling him, and I wonder if he can feel me shaking. "How can you see me if it's dark?" I murmur as I scoop my hair up, trying desperately to get air on the fever-hot skin of my neck.
"I happen to have excellent eyesight." His statement is benign but the way he says it, all low and rough, makes it sound like the filthiest sentence in the world. He's pinching my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, hard enough to make me wet. Hard enough to make me squirm. Hard enough to want him even more.
Of course he can see perfectly in the dark. He's a vampire. I also have pretty good sight, but probably not like he does.
I roll my hips, so I grind against the hardness in his pants. He lets out another low, menacing growl, only this time, it seems like it's not coming from a person, but a... thing.
He reaches up and puts his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me down toward him, against his mouth. His kisses are downright intoxicating. They're punctuated with little moments of intensity, like when he stops and presses his forehead into mine, his eyes closed, as if he's trying to gather his strength. He does this while holding my hip with one hand, moving my body against his in the most delicious, dirty way.
For a creature that's not human, he's surprisingly passionate. It's a mind-fuck, knowing that he doesn't harbor the same emotions as a human, and yet I almost feel the need and desire pouring from him. Maybe I'm just projecting my own feelings?
I whimper at the sudden realization that he's not like me, not exactly, well, not even a little. He's not even similar Kerri, who's learned to feed by stealing donations from the blood bank where she works. She claims she's become more evolved over the years, that female vampires have more self-control. I guess I'll find out soon enough if that's true.
Matteo kills people by drinking their blood, and that's what's going to happen to me tonight. A flash of indecision washes over me. Should I want this? Do I want this? My life is pretty wonderful right now. I'll relinquish my human existence for what, exactly?
Immortality?
Power?
The ability to help others for eternity?
Yes this is what I want, to fulfill not only my desire, but reverse a horrific legacy started by my ancestors.
But I won't know how I'll feel as a vampire until it happens, and it's too late to turn back now...
"I liked being under you better," I purr, the ache in me surging. If only he'd strip me naked, touch me everywhere, bewitch my body with his touch.
"You did, did you? Hmm. I like you either way, but when you're sitting on me, it's more difficult for me to give in—"
His words are cut off by the door flinging open, and the overhead light blazing above us. Kerri's suddenly standing in the middle of the room.
"Oh my god," I yelp as I stop dry humping Matteo. I lunge for a pillow to cover my chest. My bulging eyes probably are ringed with messy black eyeliner. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."
Matteo, sits up slowly. He's shirtless and there's a light pink flush on his pale cheeks. I notice the red of his eyes fading back into bright blue, and he shields his gaze from the light. Then he takes a long, deep breath.
"Oh, shit." Kerri winces, baring her fangs. "You didn't put the sign on the door."
My head falls forward so my face is buried in the pillow. "Sorry."
"The sign?" Matteo asks, raking his fingers through his black hair.
Kerri removes the tack from the laminated picture on the wall next to the door. "We made an agreement that if we're hooking up with someone and we don't want to be interrupted, we put this on the door."
She flashes the eight-by-ten of Johnny Cash flipping a photographer his middle finger.
"But if we're just hanging out but want a little privacy," she flips it over and shows him a picture of Adam Ant beckoning with his index finger, "We put this up. It means, knock first."
Matteo squints at her, then at me, then clears his throat. I want to die from embarrassment.
Kerri sets the photo down on a pile of books. "I'll go grab a Coke in the lounge and let you two finish up. Carry on."
She closes the door before I can ask her to turn out the harsh light.
"I'm... I'm sorry," I whisper.
He turns, his blue eyes blazing. "Don't apologize. You didn't know she'd be coming back."
In the stark light, it becomes obvious that he's much older. Not in a creepy way, because he still looks as though he's about twenty-five. But in a this guy's got his shit together, and I'm sitting here topless in my dorm room with posters on the walls and a pile of dirty laundry in the corner.
There are no tangible clues of his maturity, but a vibe I'm getting from the way he sits, the way he carries himself. Younger, eager guys would pounce on me the moment Kerri left. He's slowly picking up his shirt off the floor and I watch, rapt, at how he's both graceful and primal all at once.
I often find beauty where others don't, and my choice of men is no exception.
"I probably should get going." His voice is quiet, haughty.
Oof. The earlier sensual, hyper-sexual mood is shattered, and the disappointment is palpable in my chest, which feels heavy. "Yeah, okay, sure."
I try to play it off like this is nothing, that I make out with strange guys from clubs all the time. The radio's still playing, and an upbeat song by Erasure sounds tinny and stupid. I hit the button, smacking the song off. Somehow the silence is worse.
"Can you hand me my shirt, please?" I ask.
He walks across the room to pick it up, and I avoid his gaze when he's headed back to me. He kneels on the bed next to me and tilts my head up while sliding the pillow away.
"Come here."
I shiver from the cool air on my chest as he gathers my tank and slides it over my head, then helps me put my arms through the holes. When he gently takes my face in his hands and kisses me softly, I moan and liquefy under his touch.
"I wish..." I stop myself, about to say, I wish you didn't have to leave. But that sounds too needy, and no guy likes a needy girl.
"I wish, too," he whispers against my lips, then slides off the bed into a standing position.
Crap.
I reach for a sweater tangled in the comforter at the foot of my bed and slowly put it on and climb to my feet.
He shrugs on his leather jacket, leaning toward the cork bulletin board where I've tacked photos and reminders of class deadlines.
"Is this your family?" His finger hovers over a photo, and I stand close, hoping he'll put his arm around me. He doesn't.
"Yeah, that's Mom, Dad, my brother John, and me, taken one year at Disney in Florida."
Matteo leans closer, as if he wants a better look at the four of us standing near Cinderella's castle. A small, almost imperceptible frown crosses his brow as he studies the photo. Weird.
"Hey, I can walk you out, I have to sign you out of the book downstairs." I tug at the sleeve of his jacket.
He doesn't answer, and for some reason, his silence sends an ominous chill through me.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Is Matteo too hot and cold?
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