chapter Four
Nate Thomas had parked his car in the casino garage next to Gwenna's reserved spot, and now he was following her into the building, wondering if the reason he'd originally thought she wasn't all that smart was because she was actually incredibly sheltered. Naive as opposed to dimwitted. While she had refused to elaborate, Gwenna had made it sound like she didn't work. She had clearly gotten married at a young age, if she had already been divorced for three years. And she was living inside her brother's pimped-out casino, which was about as far from reality as you could get.
A doorman gave Gwenna a big smile as he swung open the door for her. "Good evening, Ms. Carrick, how are you?"
"Fine, thanks, Reginald. How are you tonight?"
"Oh, can't complain." The doorman was tall and broad and held the door cheerfully for Gwenna. Then he seemed to realize Nate was actually with her as opposed to just randomly walking behind her. "Who's your friend?" he asked, voice dripping with suspicion.
"This is Detective Thomas. He's here to ask me some questions." Gwenna stopped and put her hand on the doorman's sleeve. "I was at the train station and I found some poor man's body. He'd been killed, Reginald. It was horrific."
"What!" Reginald looked outraged. "That's no good, Ms. Carrick. That's just wrong."
"You've hit it exactly."
"Does Mr. Carrick know?"
"No, thank God. And let's not tell him just yet, okay?"
"Sure, whatever you say."
"Thank you, dear."
Maybe it was being British, but sometimes Nate thought Gwenna sounded a hell of a lot like his grandmother. Yet she was young and beautiful, not a wrinkle or orthopedic shoe in sight. The contrast was a curiosity he wanted to explore. There was something totally enigmatic about her. The pieces to the puzzle seemed to jumble more, and none of them fit anywhere that he could find.
"There's a restaurant over here that is only open for breakfast. It's just a little diner thing. We can go in here if you like." She paused in the entrance to the grand lobby, skirting a glass end table. "Oh, wait, I have a better idea. We'll go in the spa. It's closed for the night and it has really lovely velvet couches."
He wanted to suggest they just go up to her place, but he knew that was wrong on a whole lot of levels. One, it would sound like a come-on, which he didn't mean. Not really. Two, he had just lectured her on dangerous behavior. Encouraging her to take a strange guy up to her room—even if was him—would encourage her carelessness. He had to take the high road, even if sitting in a darkened spa sounded way less appealing than just hanging out in her place. She'd said she had a suite, and he was betting it had a killer view of the Strip. But the truth was, the whole fact that he'd followed her in his car to the casino in the first place showed his judgment wasn't all that rock solid at the moment, so he should just let her call the shots. He wasn't even sure what the hell he was doing there.
Maybe that wasn't true. It had to do with Kyra, and the fact that he felt a little sick to his stomach, lonely, sad, and angry. He hadn't wanted to go home, but neither did he want to hang out in the lobby of a busy, crowded casino. Going to Gwenna's suite would probably be a mistake, though, given his shaky frame of mind, so the spa was really the best all-around idea.
And shit, if he lost it and blubbered, at least the lights would be dim.
"Sounds like a plan."
She smiled at him, and Nate felt something he sure in the hell shouldn't. It was a kick of lust, right where it counted. Which scared the crap out of him. The mind was weak at the moment, yet the body still was totally functioning, which made this a bad thing. A stupid idea. This was him with his head up his ass if he went up that elevator with her.
He went.
Which meant he was a total idiot.
But he was on the edge, and he knew it. Everything he felt, everything he'd lost, the hurt, the fear, the bitterness, swirled around inside him and threatened to take him down. He was going to crack, soon, the pressure pulling inside his skull, the lack of sleep, that last phone call to his parents, the indignity of yet another mindless murder on tonight of all nights, pushing and tugging at him.
It was Gwenna Carrick or a bottle of Jack, and she was a hell of lot more attractive than him drunk.
"What floor?" he asked as they stepped into an elevator with a thirty-something couple who were leaning dangerously close to each other.
"Sixteen."
Gwenna glanced over at the pair dressed in cocktail party clothes. Nate watched her eyes widen a little at the fact that the couple were now making out vigorously. With lots of hand, tongue, and leg movement. Well, that was special. Shifting a little to block her view, aware that the guy's hand had just gone up the woman's skirt, Nate tried to think of something inane and conversational to say. "So…"
He had nothing. Especially since Gwenna had moved a little to see around him.
Instead of being appalled at the public fondling, she looked curious. Intrigued. She wet her lips. His own immediate and painful reaction to that was an instant boner. No hesitation, no slow inflate, just up, hard, and ready to go.
Which was more disgusting than the happy gropers behind him. He couldn't understand how he could get an erection on the same night he'd been to a crime scene and watched his sister die. It was like confirmation of everything he'd ever been told by his grandmother—his animalistic male body was totally disconnected from his emotions.
On the other hand, maybe it was just a coping mechanism of some kind. Distract him from the rough stuff with a simple physical response. That sounded right-on with what a therapist would tell him.
But he was starting to think maybe he should have stuck to the Jack Daniels idea, because the last thing he or Gwenna Carrick needed was a one-night stand.
The elevator dinged right as the woman let out an encouraging moan in the small space, and her back slammed against the wall from a particularly aggressive lunge at her breasts by her guy.
"This is our floor," Gwenna said.
Thank God.
They stepped off as Gwenna murmured, "Well, those two are in for a fun night."
"Doesn't feel very fair, does it?" he said, glancing into the empty spa as she used a key card to open the locked door. "They're going up without a care in the world to bang each other's brains out, and here we are. Day from hell for both of us."
She glanced back at him, blue eyes filled with compassion. "I think it's safe to say yours has been worse than mine."
Damn, she really was beautiful. Just pale and soft, all pink lips and shiny hair.
What would she do if he just reached over and kissed her? If he just grabbed on, held tight, and buried himself and all his thoughts inside her?
She'd probably kill him or file a rape report.
God, he was wrecked. He needed to go home. "Maybe I should just go, Gwenna. I'm fucking walking the edge here… I don't think I'm very good company."
"Don't go." Moving in closer to him, her hair brushed along his jaw, her petite hands touching his chest. "I want you to stay."
Then she tilted her head up to look at him, her fair skin stark in the muted glow from the overnight lights.
"Why?" he asked, standing stiffly, aware of how soft she felt, how delicate and feminine, and how much bigger he was than her. The scent of her was delicious—fruity and womanly, with a hint of coffee—and Nate wanted to run his fingers through her pale, silken hair and just let it go, let it all go.
"Because I don't want to be alone," she said simply. "And neither do you."
Then she lifted her mouth and kissed him.
Nate hadn't expected her to do it, not really, even when he'd been considering the same damn thing, but Gwenna didn't hesitate. She just covered his mouth with hers and kissed him with a hell of a lot of passion. She tasted as good as she smelled, and her lips were tiny and soft, maybe a little lacking in finesse, but taking him with confidence and enthusiasm. It was a damn good kiss, one that ended too soon.
When she pulled back, he lifted an eyebrow. "What exactly are we doing here?"
"We're being alive, that's what we're doing."
A part of his brain, the small bit that was still functioning, wondered if she were conning him. If she knew more about the murder than she'd let on, this could be just a way to distract him. Nate thought he was damn good at reading people, though, and he got a different vibe from Gwenna. She didn't come off as savvy enough to be a con or a liar, and that pain in her eyes when she talked about her daughter had been real, and so had her horror when discussing the victim's condition. He'd stake his badge on it that she was legit.
Not that he really cared much at the moment. He suspected he'd take what she was offering anyway, even if she was a boldfaced lying user. It felt too damn good to have her body up against his.
Let it go. That's what he really needed. He just had to let it all go so he didn't completely and totally lose it, and that's what Gwenna was offering him.
Nate buried his hands in her hair on either side of her temples, letting the silky wheat-colored strands slip over his rough, callused skin. "Are you sure?" he asked, giving her a chance to back out. Because he wasn't playing around. If they started, they were damn well going to finish.
Her hands slid around his neck, and she shifted her leg so they had below-the-belt contact. "Absolutely positive."
Good enough for him. Nate gripped her hair tighter and drew her face to him, letting his lips collide with hers in a crushing, take-it-or-leave-it kind of kiss, wanting to touch and taste her with a pounding urgency. Her breath came hot and fast, mouth opening for him with little coaxing. His tongue slid inside, thrusting and dominating, and he pushed his swollen dick against her, frustrated that the awkward shove only made her bounce away from him, breaking contact.
They needed a bed. Or a couch. The wall was closer still, so Nate turned Gwenna and walked her back three feet, pinning her against the wall next to the reception desk. Better. He could get a firm hold on her hair, and grind his hips against hers while he kissed the daylights out of her. It occurred to him that maybe he should ease up, since she was petite, kind of delicate-looking, and a total stranger, but he dismissed that idea. He wasn't being rough, just aggressive, and she was taking it. Her eyes were rolled back, fingernails digging into his back, hips rising up to collide with his in a hard, desperate thrust.
Which was fucking hot. Nate disregarded all thoughts that had logic or caution attached to them and dove in, yanking Gwenna's T-shirt off over her head, messing her hair up. The shirt hit the floor and she made a futile effort to swipe stray hanks of hair off her face before giving up with a moan, while he bent over and sucked the peak of her breast. Her flesh was smooth and firm, her chest small and proportionate to the rest of her body, and Nate wanted all of it. With grappling fingers, he undid the clasp on her back and just ripped the bra off, barely noting that it was red as it followed her shirt to the carpet.
"Oh, yes," she said in a ragged voice when his mouth closed over her tight nipple. "Wow. That's really very pleasant."
He was thinking the same thing. She tasted delicious. He moved all over, from one nipple to the other and back again, loving the way his tongue slid easily across her smooth skin. Shifting downward, he traced over her ribs, dipped his tongue into her bellybutton, which made her jump, and since her jeans were so loose, managing to probe beneath the waistband in a brutal tease for both of them. Nate wanted at all of her, patience for the day completely wiped out.
Everything felt sharp and fast and hot, and he popped her snap with his right hand, while reaching into his back pocket with his left. He was almost positive he had a condom in his wallet since he'd made a habit of always keeping one on hand after a pregnancy scare with a girlfriend in college. He was good about replacing it when he used one, and he pulled the wallet out with jerky motions, determined to shoot himself if there wasn't one in there.
But there was, and he worked it out, letting the wallet fall from his fingers as he brought his attention back to Gwenna. She was holding on to the belt loops of his jeans, her chest heaving up and down in arousal, her cheeks pink, hair tousled. Her pants had slid down a little, undone and half-zipped, and there were red panties peeking up at him. She had her eyes closed, looking like without the support of the wall she'd be on the floor in a puddle.
Good.
Nate went down on his knees and tugged her jeans and panties down with one shift motion. A glance up showed her eyes flying open in surprise. He didn't give her time to speak, just closed the distance between them and kissed between her thighs, coaxing her legs apart with his thumbs. She was a true blond, skin flawless, body arching toward him. Nate buried his tongue into her, finding her clitoris and tasting it with bold, demanding strokes.
Gwenna was making rapid sounds of distress, her moans growing louder, frantic, hands burrowing into his hair and clamping down. Her arousal turned him on, made him so hard he ached with it, his whole body hot and tight, ready for release. He was light-headed, like he wasn't taking in enough oxygen, the room silent and dark around them, his control skittering and escaping. He stroked harder, deeper, possessively, wanting to taste her everywhere, sucking on the flesh of her thighs, and scraping his teeth across her swollen and slick clitoris.
Her legs trembled beneath his fingers and she went up on her toes, shifting away from him, trying to escape his touch. Nate knew she was going to have an orgasm, could feel the tenseness in her muscles, feel it in the way she yanked on his hair. He didn't want her there yet, not without him inside her.
So Nate stood up quickly, ignoring the pop in his left knee, and flattened his hand against the wall.
"Don't stop," she demanded, smacking his arm, which struck him as both hilarious and hotter than hell.
"I'm not stopping," he murmured, lips against hers, rubbing his erection between her thighs, encouraging her to spread further.
"It feels stopped to me," she panted.
Nate buried his head into her hair and thrust inside her with both abandonment and gratitude, a biting urgency, and hot, glorious desperation.
The tightness of her wrapped around him, stroking and milking his cock, the acute pleasure even better than he could have ever imagined.
It took all of thirty seconds to realize he wasn't going to make this time last very long. He was gone.
Gwenna couldn't believe she was standing against a wall in the chichi spa with a penis deep inside her. She wasn't exactly sure how it had happened, and if anyone had suggested to her three hours earlier that she would have sex vertically with a police detective before the night was out, she would have declared that person utterly insane. But it seemed the insane one was her, because she was in fact having sex with a virtual stranger after three hundred years of celibacy.
At least it was holding up to the wait. Nate was frantic in his attentions, aggressive and hungry, and she had to admit, she rather liked that. She wasn't sure she could have handled the intimacy of slow and explorative, but this fast and furious she was absolutely fine with. It matched her mood, her sense of hysteria at finding that man's body, at her frustration over still grieving for her daughter after so many years, her irritating helplessness that she would never, ever be able to fully disconnect herself from Roberto.
All of that mattered less when she was feeling the brutal slap and push of Nate Thomas thrusting into her. It did make her feel alive, made her vibrantly aware of her body, of the strength and power she had as a vampire. On her tiptoes, pants around her ankles, cool air and Nate's mouth sliding over her bare skin, she should have been embarrassed, should have felt self-conscious that she was for all practical purposes naked, while he was still fully dressed in his jeans and T-shirt.
But she didn't. She embraced the sensation of her bum scraping against the wall, her sandal straps digging into the tops of her feet, his fingers gripping at her waist, his penis hard and full inside her wetness, coaxing to life wants and needs she had thought were long gone.
Gwenna had never considered herself a particularly sexual person. She hadn't missed sex since her divorce, had never bothered to seek it out. But this was new and different and all-consuming. This was intense, and desperate, and overwhelming.
"Nate," she said raggedly, suddenly unsure, overpowered by all the sensations in her body, in her heart, at the feeling that she'd completely and totally lost all control. That the world as she knew it, had lived it, understood it, was shifting and cracking.
"Yeah?" He nipped at her jaw, her lips.
"I…" She shifted restlessly, mouth hot, throat tight, legs tensed. "I… don't know."
"Don't fight it, Gwenna, let it happen." Nate slowed down his pace, pulled way out, making her feel denied, and then slid back into her fully, deep.
The ability to speak, however incoherently, completely shattered. That movement, that whatever the hell he was doing, robbed her of words, thoughts. She just grabbed on to his arms and gave in to the orgasm, letting it sweep over her, a hot, shuddering rush of ecstasy.
She was aware of Nate moving faster again, of his breathing growing deeper, low grunts coming from him as he went over the edge himself, pounding hard through his orgasm, but she didn't react. Couldn't react. She just clung to him, speechless and insensible from pleasure.
Bloody hell.
The man knew how to shag.
And she had forgotten how to breathe.
They both stood shuddering and sucking in air for a minute, neither inclined to move. Then Nate was gathering her in his arms and peeling her off the wall when the phone rang, startling them both. Gwenna glanced over at it, feeling a little guilty. They were still in the spa's lobby, which was remarkably tacky. This had not been at all what she'd had in mind when she'd suggested a chat on the spa sofa. She could only imagine what Nate was thinking of her. Sense of relaxation and wonder already evaporating, Gwenna felt anxiety crash back in on her as the phone continued to ring incessantly. Anyone could have just strolled off the elevator and seen them. That would have made a pretty shot.
Obviously not having the same concerns, Nate gave a soft laugh, nuzzling her neck a little. "Sorry, I got a little carried away."
That was the thing about just giving in to passion and tossing over every inhibition she'd ever had. It was good while it lasted, but suddenly she felt awkward as hell. How in the world did she bend over gracefully to pull her pants back up?
The phone stopped ringing. Then immediately started again. As did her mobile phone in her pants pocket. That really destroyed her last shred of calm. "Oh, damn, maybe I should answer that."
"Why?" Nate asked, his expression indicating he thought the suggestion was absolutely ludicrous.
Resenting that he could just zip his fly up and be squared away and ready to head back out into the world, Gwenna tried to slide down the wall, bending her knees a little, to reach her dropped jeans. She missed gowns. This would have simply required dropping her skirts back over her legs in the nineteenth century. Not that she would know from actual experience. She hadn't taken to having sex with strangers standing up until just that very day.
"Because it could be important."
"Or more likely it's your ex trying to control you."
Well, there was that.
The spa phone began to ring yet a third time, and they both heard the elevator ding. Someone was getting off on their floor.
"Oh, damn," Gwenna said, panicking. No longer worried about how it would look from Nate's point of view, she bent over and yanked up her jeans, buttoning them posthaste despite the fact that her panties bunched painfully in parts that were sensitive and sore and didn't appreciate the rough treatment.
Nate grabbed her T-shirt off the floor and handed it to her before turning around and blocking her from view. She was yanking it over her head when she heard a voice say in surprise, "Ms. Carrick?"
Oh, lovely. It was Ethan's bodyguard and head of hotel security.
"Yes, Sam, it's me," she said, straightening her shirt and hair before peering around Nate's arm. "Can I help you?"
It really was unfortunate that even as a vampire she blushed. She could feel her cheeks burning. And there was no hope he wouldn't notice her blush or her state of disheveled dress, even though the room wasn't fully lit, because he was a vampire, too. With an acute sense of smell.
"I just wanted to make sure you're alright and that you don't need anything. We, uh, saw you come in here on the security cameras."
Oh, God. Mortification had a name and it was Gwenna Carrick. But at least she could reassure herself that they hadn't seen her on camera, just Nate. It would have been obvious to Sam that Nate was having sex with a vampire, given the lack of a visible partner on tape, and he had probably felt obligated for security reasons to at least investigate who that vampire might be. Ethan's former secretary, Kelsey Columbia, had been notorious for taking mortal men up to the office suite for quickies, but Kelsey wasn't allowed unsupervised in the building anymore since she had run off and married Ringo Columbia, an assassin and heroin addict.
"I'm fine, thanks so much. Sorry to cause trouble." Or more sorry she hadn't been smarter. Damn, she should have just taken Nate to her room. But she had been worried about how that would look to him or to any staff who might see her entering her room with an unidentified man. It was safe to say that this looked worse.
Sam hesitated, adjusting his cell phone headset on his ear. "Okay, then. Have a good night."
He turned around and headed back toward the elevator. Gwenna bit her lip. "Sam?"
"Yes?"
"You're going to tell Mr. Carrick about this, aren't you?" It was his job, she knew that, to inform Ethan of anything out of the ordinary. This certainly qualified as that.
But Sam shook his head. "Not if you don't want me to. If something has no bearing on hotel and casino security, I'm not obligated to tell Mr. Carrick about it."
He was letting her off the hook, sweet man. But Gwenna suddenly found that she was tired of worrying about her brother's reaction to her behavior. The goal she had set for herself was independence, and that had to start with being honest with her brother—telling him she loved him, but she needed to live her own life.
"No, that's fine, Sam. Feel free to tell Ethan. Or I can mention it to him myself. I shouldn't be up here. Though if you don't mind, I'd like the tape destroyed."
Sam almost grinned. She saw his mouth tilt up before he caught himself. "Sure thing." He nodded. "Good night."
As the elevator doors closed, Nate turned back to her. He looked amused himself. "Did we just make a sex tape?"
"It seems that way." At least he didn't appear angry with her.
"I wish I had known. I would have made sure my good side was facing the camera."
Gwenna laughed in spite of her lingering embarrassment. "Which side is your good side?"
"You tell me." His arm went around her waist, and he pulled her to him.
She liked the way he did that, so casually, so easily.
It seemed perfectly natural to say what she was thinking. "The front side. Bottom half."
"Yeah? Want to see it again? Somewhere without cameras?"
This was it. She could walk away now, astonished that she had felt such passion, but still slightly embarrassed that she had, or she could really thrust herself out of her comfort zone and explore the desire Nate inspired in her.
They had all night.
She had nowhere to be.
She'd had several pints of blood before heading out to meet Slash.
And her brother and ex-husband were somewhere else.
"I think I just might like that." Gwenna kissed him deeply. "The massage rooms don't have cameras."
"Lead the way."
She just loved the sound of that.