Xavier closes the drapes, mahogany hair braided halfway down his back. I watch from my chaise lounge, ostensibly reading a book, though I keep stealing glances toward the gorgeous man.
No longer a youth, he still has a certain softness to him that hadn't been roughed away by time. His pale skin is still smooth, marred only by a single scar along his spine in his lower back.
And parallel claw marks across his shoulders.
My gaze lingers on those shoulders. Strong, exactly as broad as they need to be, capable of supporting his own weight and more. Sharply defined waystations between his long neck and his lithe torso.
Xavier pauses, sensing the weight of my stare, and I turn the page to pretend I wasn't. He says nothing, though I sense his humor as he continues preparing my rooms for the night.
Bare feet pad across the marble floor as he began lightning oil lamps. Nothing remarkable one way or the other, they did lead to his slender ankles and shapely calves, which lead to his lengthy thighs.
I bite my lip, following the line of his thighs to his tight hips. Narrow, slender, but in no way weak or unflexible. Very much flexible, as he was willing to prove over and over again.
He lights candles on the table beside me and I can smell him. Male musk and soap and incense with just a hint of desire. He likes when I watch him, though he's yet to put on a proper show. I wasn't going to give up my book until I know he really wants me too.
Another page turn, eyes away from Xavier.
The man brushes past me, touching my leg the entire way. Heat flashes through my limbs, and I sigh softly. Xavier says nothing, but his postures changes as he saunters to the post in the middle of my room. I watch him with hooded eyes as he glances over his shoulder. A single nod gives him the permission he sought.
Xavier unbuttons his pants but pushes them down only an inch. He licks his lips, holding my gaze, and reaches for the thick cuffs hanging above his head. With precise motions, he locks himself into place.
"What is on your mind?" I ask, voice low and husky, closing my book. This type of play was nothing new for us, including making him ask.
He closes his eyes, pressed a button on his cuffs, and small trails of blood run down his forearms.
The hunger snaps to life, roaring in my center, lashing at every nerve. I hadn't realized how much I need to feed, but it's all I can think about with his scent in my nostrils.
I rise, growling low in my throat, and let my vision focus only on his throat. Xavier tugs against his bonds, setting more blood free. I growl once more, control slipping.
He shudders when I grip his hair, yanking his body forward and his head back at the same time. I give no time to foreplay, go straight for his throat. Xavier groans, shudders, and collapses against me.
Blood pours into me in furious torrents, and I swallow as quickly as my mouth fills. I paw and claw at him, our bodies writhing in time with my drinking. He groans again.
I stop suddenly, crying out. I haven't lost control, but part of me wants to. Something about him drives me crazy, makes me want to act in ways I don't understand.
How did a girl get this lucky?
