Chasing Demons (Book 2) Rated R

Chapter 9

When I pictured Eva, I imagined a mixture of Luke and Marcy, with dirty blonde hair (Luke's) and with Marcy's piercing green eyes. She had to be like them, if not in appearance, then at least in personality. After all, just like Luke, she was on track to be an attorney.

I felt a deep longing in my chest then, to meet her.

To apologize to her for taking her life.

Would I see traces of Luke in her, I wondered.

Would she have his knowing stare?

Eva, I thought, as I gazed out the window, at the shimmering rain that enveloped faerie. Poor Eva, torn from her family to live alone somewhere in this world and raised by a vampire maid.

She'd missed out on an amazing set of parents, a beautiful, laughter-filled childhood.

I couldn't help but think Eva had gotten the shortest end of the stick and guilt was a lead weight in my stomach.

I thought of Luke, of Marcy, and Taylor. I thought of Christian, of his piercing blue eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, how much I begrudgingly missed him. I thought of him until my eyelids grew heavy and my breathing became slower with each exhale.

The next thing I knew, I was standing near a window, overlooking the Las Vegas strip. Rain fell like tiny rivers across the clear glass. My palm over the window was cold, but here, in this room, it was warm.

Footsteps shuffled behind me.

His reflection appeared behind me first and then his arms wound around my waist, his chin resting against my shoulder. I focused on his steady breathing at my ear, twisting to melt further into him.

With no hesitation, he welcomed me into his arms and a small, far-away voice whispered that this wasn't real

But I wanted it to be. I wanted it so badly.

His hand wrapped around the back of my neck, fingers slipping into my hair. His quiet confidence as one palm travelled from my face, down past my shoulder, and past my breast, ignited desire within me.

Then his mouth descended on mine.

"Chris," I whispered against his lips. "What are you doing?"

"If this is the last time I ever touch you, I want to make it count," he responded, voice gruff.

He kissed me again and this time there was fire in the kiss. His tongue slid into my mouth, sending shivers down my spine. Both hands slipped under my shirt and across my bare back, pulling me closer to him. Soft, warm lips traveled down my neck, peppering kisses across my collarbone.

Where his mouth touched me, I felt fire. Slow and consuming, it caused an ache between my legs.

"Chris," I whispered, my thoughts racing with the promise of what was to come. Staring up into his eyes, hooded with lust, I knew he understood. He understood this physical need inside me that craved him like a drug.

More importantly, he understood that I needed more.

He flipped me around so that my face was against the cool glass of the window. Palms climbed up along my thighs, tearing down my panties in one swift motion then grazing across each crevice of my hips, delicately but oh so satisfyingly.

The sound of his zipper and then his belt clanging to the ground brought with it the promise of relief.

When his erection, hard and deliciously warm pressed against my backside, I let out a whispered moan.

Slowly, he brushed over my hip until he reached the junction between my legs.

The pad of his finger caressed across my clit and he stroked it in slow circles, causing my body to tremble.