He sighed. “You confound me, Connie. You came into that club looking for trouble, now you act betrayed that I found you.”
“Looking for trouble?” He was closer to the truth than he knew. It made me more wary but if he suspected me as the source of last night’s attack I’d already be dead.
He leveled his gaze at me and quirked an eyebrow. “Someone who wears a dress like that is asking for attention.”
“Fine.” I looked away chagrined, and changed the subject. “Will Dragos be hunting for me?”
“Why would he?”
“Don’t I belong to him now?”
Rurik relaxed deeper into the hot, steamy water. “He won’t waste the resources on you. There are other things occupying his attention at the moment. For your own safety, forget last night—and forget vampires.”
The reflection of the colored glass danced on top of my bath water, over and around the ripples. “You too?” My whisper was so soft it was barely audible to my own ears.
“It’s my turn to ask a question.” He didn’t hear my question, or he ignored it.
I smiled to myself, pleased he didn’t answer. “Okay.”
“Where are you from?”
“Didn’t you ask me this last night?”
“You can’t answer a question with a question. That’s cheating.”
I looked away from the colorful reflections in my tub to watch him. He still lay back, enjoying the wet heat with his eyes closed.
“Presently I live in a hotel room in Budapest, I was born in America.”
“And your heritage?”
I wasn’t sure what he wanted. My silence must have mirrored my puzzlement.
“You have some Romanian in your features.”
I nodded. “Yes, Romanian and French.”
“Your skin is too dark for either of them. There is something else.”
I’d had some of the oddest, yet most interesting moments with this man. I rested my chin in my hand and watched him soak. “There is? I didn’t know my parents, they died when I was young. My maternal grandmother raised me. Pictures showed my father was dark. The Romanian comes from his side.”
“A dark Romanian.” He continued to soak quietly while he mused over this. Then quick as lightning, he leaned way out of his tub toward mine. “Let me see your eyes again.”
I put my hand up to stop him from getting more of a view than I was ready to share. “Whoa there, buddy, that’s close enough. You can see my eyes from there.”
His amused grin returned.
I placed my chin on the tub’s edge and opened my eyes wide.
He laughed at me. “I’m not giving you an eye exam, Rabbit.”
I retreated to my comfy spot. “What’s the prognosis?”
“I think it’s gypsy. It would account for your sweet olive skin and your beautiful gray eyes.”
“You know, my grandmother told me she was a gypsy. I thought it to be a lifestyle, not a nationality.”
He leaned back. “See? A few questions and already we begin to know each other. Nothing to worry about—I don’t bite—not unless you want me to.”
Thick lashes made dark half moons under his closed eyes. He feigned disinterest. The steam beaded on his pale smooth skin. Some of those beads slipped down his face, tracing a line from his jaw, to his neck, then along his well defined chest.
I wanted to do bad things with him. I wanted to reach over and lick the beads off his chin then work my way down. I wanted to stroke my hands along...
“Rabbit?”
“Yeah?” My gaze rose from tracing the streams into his blazing stare.
He enjoyed my admiration. “Would you like me to ... bite you?”
“Not yet. What? I mean, no. Thank you.” Thinking was hard enough with Rurik fully clothed. Now it was impossible. I could tell I entertained him to no end. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, but not for your blood.” The edges of his eyes crinkled with his grin as he showed fang.
I was tired of him taking the lead in our rapport. My job dealt in seduction, yet since I’d met him, I’d lost control. He teased me with his flirtation and his body but two could play this game.
Self-confidence stirred back up, I turned away from Rurik and reached to get a sponge from the table. My movements exposed the length of my spine and a little more, just enough to make him think he got a peek.
His eyes burned along the curves of my hips and shoulders. They left my skin scalded with his desires. It’s been a long time since I dared play this game with such stakes on the table. Did I dare collect the pot if I won?
I knelt in the water, still facing away from him, and shook my hair free of its ponytail. The sponge spilled water as I squeezed it over my head. Warm and delicious it ran down my heated skin. I repeated this over and over until my hair was soaked. The tangle of my frizzed out poof tamed to soft curls once more.
“Why do you insist on calling me Rabbit?” My question floated on the steam in the room across to him.
“Rabbits are soft, quick, sweet creatures. You bring to mind a favorite poem.” The hunger in his voice made it deeper, almost sensual.
“Run, rabbit, run
Try to get away.
Run, rabbit, run
I’ve come out to play.
Run, rabbit, run
For it’s the end of the day.”
The poem sent shivers down my spine. ‘Run, rabbit, run ’ was what he shouted as he shoved me out the window. Another shiver followed. Soft, quick, and sweet. He described me as prey. This was not a man but a vampire. If he liked me, did that make me safer or more tempting?
The splash of water landing on the floor caused me to look over my bare shoulder. Rurik retrieved a bottle of shampoo and paced back towards me. Bodies like Rurik’s were made for fantasies. Lean, long muscles moved under his skin, his actions graceful and strong. His heavy lidded glare made me feel like his thoughts could travel places his hands hadn’t touched.
“Let me wash your hair.”
I looked at him, cynical of his offer.
“So wary.”
“Can you blame me?” I didn’t know if I was ready for this, I wanted to be. It had been a long time since I was intimate with anyone. The need in my body encouraged me along this path of seduction. Rurik represented most women’s wet dream but a heaviness in my heart held me back, twisting me up inside like a knot. Sex could never be just a physical thing, my heart always got dragged into it, and in the end, it was broken.
“It’s good to be wary. I am a predator after all.” He knelt by my tub. “Indulge me. I like to do this.” For a fleeting moment, a touch of vulnerability peaked through the veil of intense, blue eyes. A yearning for my acceptance. It flashed so quickly, I doubted if it was real.
“Lean your head back and put your hair over the edge.”
“The water will spill onto the floor.”
“That’s what the drain is for. Take it easy, I won’t mislead you ... again.” A soft smile touched those full kissable lips.
My hair did need a wash. Who was I kidding? I wanted to feel his touch. It had ignited an inferno when he held me last night. I gave in to my dark side and did as he asked.
He took the sponge and squeezed more hot water over my hair, making sure it was saturated. He then worked the shampoo through the tangles of curls. His strong fingers massaged my scalp, my forehead, and down behind my ears. They made firm, confident circular motions.
The tension in my neck melted away where he applied pressure, kneading those sore tight knots. Tingles ran along my nerves wherever our skin pressed together. The spark of desire grew more intense.
The strength of his hands caressed the tender muscles of my shoulders. My moan echoed in the room as the pleasure bordering pain pulled from my injuries.
The floor ran slick with steaming water and soap as he began to rinse my head. He abandoned the sponge to use his hands to scoop water from my tub over my hair. His fingers ran through the curls, gently tugging them. It felt wonderful. This was the first time I allowed a man to do this. The pull on the strands increased with each pass of his hand, pulling me up out of the water, arching my back in response to the delicate pain.