Rachel bit her lip, biting back a moan and squirming, struggling to free the hands he held captured in his own. He knew she wanted to touch him back, wanted to caress him as well, but he didn't have the control at the moment to allow that--and he wanted her as excited and hungry for him as he was for her. Shifting, he took both of her hands in one of his, then reached down to remove his belt.
"I could help with that," Rachel offered, arching restlessly beneath him. He fumbled one-handed with the chore, merely smiling and shaking his head. At last he succeeded in removing the item of clothing, then wrapped it around her trapped hands, slid the end through the buckle, and pulled it tight.
"What are you doing?" Rachel gasped as he tied the belt to his headboard. "I don't--"
He silenced her protest with a kiss.
Rachel arched on the bed, her mind a jumble of confusion. Somehow her fantasy was barreling out of control. Things had been fine in this dream until Etienne turned the tables on her and rolled her onto her back, but now the fantasy was taking a path she had never expected--and she seemed helpless to stop it. Of course, Rachel wasn't sure she wanted to stop it, but the very fact that it was happening was bewildering. She was positive that she was alone in bed, dreaming, but she could feel Etienne against her in the darkness, could smell the musky cologne he wore, could taste the essence of him as his tongue thrust into her mouth. Bemused, she decided to just go with it. Allowing her mouth to widen, her own tongue slid out to join and tangle with his, and she tugged uselessly at the belt around her wrists in a vain effort to free herself to hold and touch him too.
She was gasping when his mouth left hers, panting with excitement but disappointed that he had broken the kiss... until his mouth traveled down her throat to the swell of her breast. Somehow the shirt she wore had come open, leaving her na**d to his pleasure. Fortunately, his pleasure was her own. She cried out and arched back as he caressed and suckled first one breast, then the other. When he moved lower, his lips trailing down her belly, Rachel moaned and shuddered, very aware that his fingers were leading the way, trailing down over her hipbone, then down her outer leg and up her thigh.
Her legs seemed unsure what to do, and Rachel shifted restlessly beneath his caress. First her thighs pressed together, then they opened slightly, then they simply quivered and twitched beneath Etienne's fingers. Rachel wasn't much of a singer, but she suspected she hit a high C when his caress reached her center. She jerked, moaned, and twisted her head on the bed, especially when his mouth replaced his fingers.
She did very little thinking after that. The only cogent thought Rachel managed was that Etienne was damned good--but then, he'd had three hundred years of practice. Well, it showed. Rachel had never experienced anything like it. Etienne had said earlier that her senses weren't fully developed, but she was definitely experiencing something intense. Her pleasure was perhaps not twenty times what it had once been at its peak, but it was at least two- or threefold. It was almost scary. Almost.
The ringing of the phone woke Etienne. His eyes shot open, his mind and body immediately alert. Although his body appeared to have been already alert, if the erection he sported was anything to go by. Forcing himself to ignore the clamoring of his body, he pushed his coffin lid open and sat up. In the next moment, he crossed the room to snatch the phone.
"Hello?" he barked, unable to hide his annoyance.
Silence. Etienne listened for a moment, eyes narrowing as the dead air stretched, malevolent and angry. Then he guessed, "Pudge?"
A click as the line went dead was his answer. Etienne set the phone back with a troubled frown. The techie hadn't called since Etienne had told him in no uncertain terms he wasn't going to be hired; then the killing attempts had started. Yet Etienne was sure that had just been Pudge. He didn't know why the fellow had called, but he suspected it wasn't good.
He turned back to survey his coffin with irritation. The idea of getting back in wasn't appealing. His dream had wound him up. He was now too restless to sleep--at least alone in a dark, confining coffin. It suddenly didn't seem the cozy, comforting spot where he could think and plan, it just seemed cold and dark. And lonely.
Sighing, Etienne left his office and headed upstairs. He would check on Rachel and change her blood bag, then perhaps work for a while. He didn't think he'd get back to sleep anytime soon.
His guest was sound asleep when he reached her. She was also scowling. It was an expression he had seen on her face several times while awake, but he had never expected to see it while she was sleeping. What did it mean? He moved to the side of the bed rather than to the refrigerator. The scowl was one of dissatisfaction, perhaps, for the bed was a tangled mess of sheets and blankets, half kicked aside, half twisted around her body. Rachel was obviously just as restless as he. Then he noticed that her hands rested above her head--in much the same position he had restrained them in his dream. The dream that had seemed so real.
Realization struck. Doubt immediately followed, however, and Etienne decided to test his hypothesis. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind... and immediately retracted his thoughts when, instead of the blank wall he usually encountered, he glimpsed Rachel's thoughts. It seemed her mind, which was firmly closed to him when she was awake, was wide open when she slept. Which meant the dream or fantasy he'd experienced had probably been a shared moment. Either he had been pulled into Rachel's dreams, or she had been pulled into his.
It didn't really matter who had started the episode, Etienne supposed. The most important fact was that, despite everything, Rachel was still attracted to him. There was no mistaking her little moans or her response to him--at least in dreams--as anything like repulsion or disgust. That was good. He was certainly attracted to her. It gave Etienne hope. Perhaps he wouldn't have to spend eternity without a life mate. Perhaps things would work out. It would take some time to find out for sure, however, and to get that time he would have to convince Rachel to remain here with him.
He supposed he could do the normal mortal dating thing: take her out, wine and dine her, seduce her. But there were complications. Pudge was one. Then, there was that she had to learn to live her life differently. Controlling her body's responses was one of the more important lessons she needed to master.
Walking to the refrigerator, Etienne fetched fresh blood, then moved to replace the nearly empty bag on the IV stand. Once that was accomplished, he peered down at Rachel again, finding himself reaching out to brush a tress of red hair away from her face and smiling when she sighed in her sleep and turned into his touch. He would find a way to make her stay with him. He wanted to protect her, though she didn't seem the kind who would take well to coddling.
After straightening the blankets and tugging them up to cover her, he quietly left the room. He had to marshal his thoughts and come up with a convincing argument to make her stay for a couple of weeks. And he had to work on convincing her to fall in with the family's suggestion she claim Pudge had kidnapped her. Pudge was still very much a threat, and Rachel still had a lot to learn.
Chapter Eight
It was already dark out when Rachel woke up. She was used to that however, though usually only in late fall and winter when night came early. One of the things she had always hated about working nights was in the winter, coming home at seven in the morning and having to sleep away the few daylight hours available. Oddly enough, this time, sleeping so long didn't seem to bother her. She woke up refreshed and eager to start her day--or evening, as was the case.
With little choice when it came to wardrobe, Rachel re-donned the tight jeans and T-shirt Marguerite had retrieved for her, then raided Etienne's wardrobe for a long-sleeved dress shirt. Drawing it on over her, she tied the loose ends of the open shirt at her waist, then spent a moment in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and hair. She considered slapping on some of the face powder and lipstick Marguerite had also been thoughtful enough to bring, but in truth she didn't need it. Her skin glowed with good health and her lips were redder than usual. It appeared there were other benefits to being a vampire--she would save a fortune on cosmetics.
Grinning, Rachel left the bedroom and jogged downstairs. Wandering to the kitchen, she didn't find Etienne there so she continued on down to the basement. The office was dim, with just the glow of screen savers on the monitors. She could see that the room was empty, though, except for the closed coffin. Etienne obviously hadn't woken up yet.
Rachel's gaze slid to the desk and the phone there. It was the only one she'd seen in the house, and she wanted to make a quick call to her family, just to let them know she was all right. She didn't like the idea of them worrying about her.
She took a step toward the phone, then caught herself. Making the phone call would wake Etienne, and if it did... Well, she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. He should awake soon, anyway. She could ask him then to use the phone. She backed silently out of the room and returned upstairs.
Debating what to do next, Rachel decided to explore. She wandered aimlessly from room to room on the ground floor, appreciating the eclectic modern style but not stopping until she came to the library.
She'd always been a bookworm. Pausing to survey the shelves and the books available, one caught her interest. She settled in one of the overstuffed chairs, tucked her feet up under her, and began to read. That was how Etienne found her.
"I thought you were still sleeping," Rachel said as she closed her book and stood to replace it on its shelf.
"No. I went to get you some more clothes. I thought you might like a change."