Moonlight Becomes You: a short story (4 page)

"I suppose I do," she confessed. "Particularly vampire romance." She shivered a little. It was the neck thing, she imagined. Her hand rose up and touched her neck, there where Simon had brought her to the edge of paradise with his mouth alone.

Simon sighed. Claire tried to ignore his reaction as she put the water on to boil and preheated the oven for the garlic bread, but in truth the fact that he'd asked the question made her wonder... why did he care if she read about vampires or not? Obviously he
did
care. He was actually annoyed by the books she'd left sitting out, and that put her right back where she'd started.

Still, he hadn't bitten her when he'd had the chance. Maybe sometimes vampires needed sex, too—lack of blood flow aside.

"You know," Simon said after an uncomfortable moment of silence, "I'm really not very hungry. I should go."

"No!" Claire left her not-yet-boiling water behind as Simon stood, unfolding his body with that unexpected grace that seemed only slightly unnatural. There was a mirror in her bathroom, another in the bedroom. If she could just get him to stand in front of one of those mirrors... if she could just be
sure
..."You need to eat something," she said softly.

"I'm not going to starve," he responded.

"What do you have at your place if you get hungry later?" she asked logically. "Frozen dinners? Soup and crackers? I make very good spaghetti."

"I wish you would be honest with me," he said, a touch of anger coloring his words. There was a pleasant melodiousness to his voice, she decided, even when he was angry. "Something strange is going on here. There was never any earring in the hallway, there was no noise from my apartment, and I've never heard of any Southern Women's Code. I think yesterday you were following me, and tonight you were snooping."

"I'm not..."

He moved in very close and placed one finger over her lips. "I talk, you listen. You're much more transparent than you intend to be."

Claire couldn't move. Somehow he held her in place with that one finger on her mouth, and with his eyes. Her heart beat too hard. He knew that she'd discovered his secret, and now he was going to kill her. This time when he lowered his head he was going to bite down on her neck and feed and that would be the end of everything for her.

Claire Murphy was found dead in her apartment. The body was discovered by a nosy neighbor, Mrs. Iris Tillman, who was bothered by the gross smell. Miss Murphy has no family and she will not be missed by anyone. She didn't even have a cat. Oh, and by the way, it seems someone had taken all her blood, but who cares?

"Maybe I am transparent," she whispered, angry at the knowledge that she could die here and now and no one would care. "You didn't seem to mind a few minutes ago."

"No, I didn't mind at all. I've been dreaming about getting you in that particular position for weeks. I've been dreaming about more, Claire. To be honest, I've been watching you since I moved in," he said in a lowered voice. "There's no boyfriend, and you're in bed every night very early and very alone."

"If you work at night how do you know..."

"Shhh," he ordered gently. "I know. I've also known all along that if I touched you just right you'd come apart, and you did. Before tonight, when was the last time you came, Claire Murphy?"

She swallowed hard before answering half-heartedly, "Does it count if I was alone at the time?"

"No. That most definitely does not count."

"Hey, wait," she said indignantly. "
You've
been stalking
me!
"

"Just a little."

Claire was frozen in place as Simon lowered his head to her neck. His lips pressed there at the place where neck became shoulder, and a rush of sensation shot through her. She shouldn't be so easy, what had happened in his apartment aside. Her insides clenched and her knees went weak, and all he had done was lay his mouth on her throat. The kiss was gentle, and yet it made her feel as if she were melting.

"I know what you want, Claire Murphy," he whispered against her flesh, "and it isn't spaghetti or a fictional earring." His hand slipped beneath her shirt and raked against her back until he found her bra clasp and very easily unhooked it. "I want the same thing you do. I have since I first saw you in the hallway, more than a month ago. Does that surprise you? It surprises me. I don't normally want things I know I shouldn't have. I learned better long ago."

How
long ago? she wondered half-heartedly.

Claire wanted to believe that what had driven her to suspect her neighbor of horrible crimes and unnatural abilities was nothing more complicated than her overactive imagination combined with the need to be touched and an undeniable attraction, which was apparently reciprocated. Her reasons for suspecting Simon of being an unnatural being were loneliness, boredom, and the craving for what he was offering her at this very moment, as he removed her tangled blouse and bra and tossed them to the floor.

He lowered her to the sofa. This time there would be more than a heated sexual moment that came and went too quickly. This time they would be naked and he would be inside her, and... oh, my. His mouth was warm on her breasts, and vampires were not warm. They were dead and cold.
Unless they'd just fed and he'd picked up something besides flowers while he was out
. Simon wasn't at all cold. In fact, his skin was hot, and she was almost certain she could hear the beat of his heart against her belly, where his chest rested as he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. She wanted him at her neck again, but certainly didn't complain. He would return there soon enough, she imagined.

He didn't move back to her neck, not right away. Instead he unfastened her skirt and began to shimmy it down.

"Not so fast," she said. "Not this time."

"Trust me, this won't be fast."

She found comfort in those words, comfort from this man she'd suspected of being a vampire moments earlier. What silly thoughts, thoughts she easily dismissed as he kissed his way down her body, which was naked but for the gold cross she'd taken to wearing. He didn't seem to mind that tiny piece of gold, which was yet another point in his favor.

It wasn't the only point in his favor, not by a long shot. Simon Darrow had a fine, sensuous mouth that was determined to explore every inch of her body. Where she was ticklish, where she was sensitive, where she had never been kissed before, he tasted her. He even lifted her leg and kissed her behind one knee, introducing her to an unexpected burst of joy. She felt that surge of joy everywhere, and yes, if he'd touched her where she was wet for him she would've come. She would've screamed. Again.

It occurred to her, as Simon trailed that lovely mouth very slowly up her inner thigh, that he was still completely dressed. That was so wrong.

"Take off your clothes," she whispered, her voice raspy and demanding.

He laughed lightly; his breath was warm against her skin. "Not yet." He spread her thighs and touched her intimately with his tongue. He flicked that tongue, he teased her with light strokes and flickers, and then he moved in and rasped against her harder, fiercer. Claire came so hard she screamed and her back arched up off the couch. She grabbed Simon's head and pulled him closer, and he didn't fight her but pressed harder and deeper, slipping his tongue inside her as she shook.

And he still hadn't bitten her, not once.

"You said it wouldn't be fast," she said breathlessly, delirious and sad, shaking and satisfied, needy and happy.

"It's not over, Claire," he promised as he crept up and over her body and finally, once again, placed his mouth at her throat and sucked against that sensitive skin. "Women are wondrous creatures who can come again and again and again in a very short period of time."

"I've heard that's true," she said as she turned her head more to the side to allow him the greatest possible access. He nipped at her skin, but just a little. Naked, entirely vulnerable and recently satisfied, her mind began to work somewhat properly. What if she only imagined that Simon was warm and that his heart beat? That could be part of the spell he had cast on her. Why else would she be so, well, easy? Not that she was complaining. Far from it. In all the books she read vampires were sensuous creatures who wallowed in intense sexual encounters. She certainly felt as if she were wallowing at the moment.

She no longer thought Simon was a vampire. Not conclusively. There was one other test she could try tonight, just to be certain. The sun had already set, so she couldn't study what happened to him in the daylight. Not for several more hours, at least. But there was a mirror in her bedroom, and if she could see his reflection in it she'd be satisfied.

Claire took Simon's head in her hands and drew his wonderful mouth away from her neck. "You have to be at least six-foot-two, and this sofa isn't more than five feet long."

"I can manage."

"I have a perfectly good bed."

"Beds are boring and ordinary. Everyone has sex in a bed." His eyebrows lifted slightly. "What about the kitchen counter? The balcony? The elevator?" He grinned quite wickedly.

"I know you prefer odd, but I really am boring and ordinary," she said as she reached down to fiddle with and then unfasten his belt buckle. He strained the denim with his erection, and she couldn't wait to have him in her hands, to touch him, to arouse him the way he'd aroused her. She gently forced him up and back, and placed her mouth on his neck. Yes, he was most definitely warm. His heart pounded. He shuddered, and she was glad.

"You're neither boring nor ordinary," he said. "You just haven't discovered that for yourself yet. I see it, even if you don't."

Claire knew the truth about herself. She was nothing if not pragmatic. She was average-looking, and her hair was an ordinary dark blond that rarely did what she wanted it to do. She was usually between ten and fifteen pounds overweight, and there was a variety of clothes in three different sizes in her closet. Fat clothes, everyday clothes, and a handful of very nice
I have a dream
clothes.

She was a failure where men were concerned. More rightly, they had always failed her, which was why she now satisfied herself with reading on weekends instead of dating or painting her toenails and shaving her legs for some man who in the end...

But now was not the time for that old tirade. A very handsome man who was hard for her had promised her again and again. And maybe another again. She'd lost count. If she could just prove to herself decisively that he wasn't a vampire, he might be the perfect man. At least for a while. No man was perfect forever.

"But you want the bed anyway, don't you," Simon whispered.

"Yes."

"Fine." Unsnapped and unzipped, still more dressed than not, Simon left the couch. He offered her his hand and she took it. He pulled her up and headed for the bedroom. It wasn't as if he had to search. The apartment was laid out just like his own, in a mirror image.

Speaking of mirrors...

She led Simon toward the bed, and when they were in the center of the small room she stopped and turned to face the mirror above her dresser. There he was, gorgeous and black-clad and somehow animalistic. He definitely had a wild magnetism. She was so happy to see him there, reflected in all his human glory, that she smiled... until she realized that she was there, too, in all her fifteen-pounds-overweight glory.

"Yikes." She turned away and headed very quickly for the bed and the safety of a coverlet she could hide beneath. She jumped into the bed and pulled the lilac comforter across the plumpest part of her exposed body.

Simon followed her at a slower pace, laughing. Not
at
her, at least, she didn't think so. When he peeled back the comforter that she'd grabbed to protect herself from his gaze, his smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed. "Don't hide. You're gorgeous."

Claire knew she was anything but, but she didn't argue. At this moment, so turned on he was probably not seeing straight, Simon believed it to be true. That was enough for her. At the moment she didn't even care if he was a vampire or not. He'd brought her flowers and thought she was gorgeous and made her come so hard her head was still spinning. Nothing else mattered.

He quickly shed his clothes, and she was not disappointed by the body he revealed. Lean and perfectly sculpted, he had a runner's body. And an impressive erection she couldn't look away from. If he was shy at all, she'd never seen any evidence of that shyness. If he had a single second thought or an ounce of hesitation, he hid it well.

Even if it was their first time together, there would be no awkwardness, no uncomfortable moments where she wondered what he expected of her or they bumped foreheads. No, this was an extraordinary night, and Claire felt as if she were caught in a wonderful dream, as Simon joined her in the bed.

The sensation of his bare body against hers was breathtaking, and when he kissed her on the mouth she held his head in her hands and gave the kiss all she had, because she could give him no less. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him close, pulling him toward what she craved.

"Oh!" She twitched and pulled away slightly. "I'm such an idiot! Do you have protection? A condom?"
Anything?

"I can't have children, and I carry no disease." The words were pragmatic. Simply spoken.