Chapter 15

Nicki rolled to the side as Stefan left the bed. She pulled up the sheets to half cover her body, suddenly chilled with the absence of him. She watched him pad across the room to the bar, where a second bottle of wine sat in a large silver urn. He'd apparently planned on them being together long into the night, she realized with sudden clarity. The man wasn't anything if not confident.

Yet, he'd let her make the first move. Let her lead though his natural instinct had surely been to take control, to draw the lines firmly between pursuer and pursued and keep those lines intact between them. He'd brought her here, after all, clearly intending for her to stay. In his long life, he'd probably had hundreds of women more than willing to play whatever role he wanted—herself included, at least when it came to following his lead as a member of his team.

But she'd pushed to assert herself, to take charge, and he'd let her. Seamlessly and without question, without any apparent blow to his masculinity. She'd been half afraid that the skies would open up and god-like bolts of lightning would smite her when he'd climaxed—but then again, Stefan was a demigod of Hermes, not Zeus or Poseidon. She probably should be glad he hadn't started spontaneously levitating or speaking in tongues.

She bit her lip to tame her grin as Stefan returned to the bed with two full glasses of wine on a tray, setting the latter down on the stand beside the bed before turning to her, his face so full of appreciation and open admiration for her that she wondered for a second if she'd somehow slipped into a dream world.

This guy wasn't just a demigod, he was a freaking unicorn.

"Here," the unicorn rumbled. Stefan lifted a glass to her, then picked up his own. "To your first command operation," he said. "May it not be your last." He touched his glass to hers, and the chime of the fine crystal echoed through the room. Nicki took a healthy gulp, feeling her nerves zing with anticipation.

Far from being ready for a break in the action, Stefan appeared…more than ready to continue.

She glanced hurriedly at his face after that distraction, a blush staining her cheeks, only to find him watching her, a decidedly smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You didn't think you could topple me that easily, I hope?" he asked.

"I—it's not a competition."

His smile deepened. "And yet I already feel at a decided disadvantage." He set his glass on the nightstand, taking hers from her unresisting fingers as well. Then he slid closer to her on the bed. "It's not a position I find I'm comfortable with, I have to tell you."

"Well what should we do about that?" Nicki blinked, surprised that the husky rasp that asked the question was her own voice—a voice that sounded nothing like her, and everything like the vamp she'd never been.

Stefan didn't seem surprised, but chuckled as he slid yet closer. "So many things," he murmured. And he leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips.

No sooner had Nicki sighed against him than he shifted—quickly, grabbing her hands out from their stabilizing position beneath her body and dropping her flat to the bed on her back. His body levered over hers and he stretched her arms out high against the pillows, his legs anchoring her thighs as she arched beneath his hold.

"So many things," he said again, "But first, I want to taste every inch of you."

"I—"

"Like here." Stefan dropped his head to Nicki's lips and kissed her soundly, his grip loosening on her hands so that he could reposition palms to either side of her face, framing her as if she were a cup that he was drinking from. He deepened the kiss, his tongue dipping into her mouth in a sensual assault, then shifted to her cheek, her brow, her temple. When he drifted his mouth along the curve of her ear, he murmured words too low for her to hear. But the tone of his voice warmed her to her toes, making her feel safe, protected, secure in his arms.

Then he angled down, his mouth tracing a fiery line along the curve of her neck to her collarbone, while his questing fingers found her breasts. He cupped them, his thumbs tweaking the already erect nipples, and lifted his face to stare into hers.

He could have any woman, she thought. Did he find her small breasts wanting?

As she frowned, he seemed to read her mind. "You're perfect. You have to know that."

"Well, I—ohh," Nicki was spared the embarrassment of a response as Stefan returned his mouth to her skin, only to place his lips where his hand had so recently been. The soft touch of his lips on her nipple made her back arch, and he rolled his tongue over her breast, teasing the nipple into a tight peak. All the while, this left hand fondled her other breast, the double play of attention splitting her focus and most of her brain cells.

Then he moved further down her body, over her softly rounded abs, and his hands dropped to anchor her hips. Nicki couldn't stop the shiver of expectation, a tight frisson of worry and need that caused Stefan to growl deep in his throat. "Perfect," he muttered again, only there was such a note of irritation in his voice that she stiffened.

"What?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he sighed, and the touch of his breath against her most sensitive skin made any coherent thought flee. "Nothing at all." He leaned forward and touched his lips to her, his tongue snaking out to find her clit, teasing and exploring in the same way he had her breast, mapping her body with his mouth. She gave up trying to pick apart the specific sensations, and let herself slide into a sensual puddle as he laved her folds slick then blew a wisp of cool breath over her, making her gasp.

"Stefan," she moaned as he ducked toward her again. She held her breath as he traced a new pattern against her skin, shifting, adjusting, learning every curve. She would burst if he kept this up, and she dropped her hands to his shoulders, unsure of whether she wanted to egg him on or warn him off.

"My directions," he reminded, and his words were spoken against her clit, making her jump. He turned his face into her thigh and kissed a trail up to her hipbone, nipping it until she stopped squirming. "And I direct you to tell me this: are you enjoying what I'm doing?" His teeth came down on her hipbone, pressing in, and Nicki squeaked again.

"Yes!" she said. "Yes."

"And you'll tell me if I do something you don't enjoy?" he pressed.

That seemed more problematic, as she was barely able to breathe at this point, but she managed another shaky "yes."

"Good. Then otherwise, roll with it. I'll stop when I'm ready to stop."

Nicki's half laugh ended on a choke as Stefan's tongue snaked out to the key points on the map of her body that he'd clearly already learned by heart. He stroked her long and deep and then flicked her tight nub, alternating between the sensations until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Another, different pressure began building—but this time, it was in her mind. First a rush of wind—then voices, they had to be voices—barged through her brain, chattering and laughing, sighing and murmuring. She could…it was almost like she could understand them, then another new wave would tumble through her, then another. The more Stefan wound her closer and closer to her own release, the louder the voices got…only to ebb away again, finally.

Nicki drew in a long, shaky breath, regaining a fragile sense of control. The second she got her bearings however, Stefan moved one millimeter to the right, and a new blast of sensation crashed over her.

"Stefan!" she gasped, and something in her voice must have tipped him off that she wasn't about to tell him to stop. His entire body stilled except his head, his mouth, the effect of him focusing so intently on her pleasure starting her down the long, delirious, inevitable slide toward orgasm.

Her legs seized first, spasming quickly together but blocked by the obstruction of his body. Nevertheless, she locked down against him, his grunt of surprise lost as the maelstrom built within her. He didn't move from his focused position, didn't give her any relief. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, apparently unaware of her growing tide of urgency as she whimpered inarticulate instructions, words that made no sense to her own ears, unwilling to tell him to stop but unable to keep herself from catapulting into the churning roil of sensations.

And then she was over the edge and her body fairly jackknifed in the bed, the violence of her orgasm bouncing her up and back again as her hands sought Stefan's shoulders and she tried to push him away and pull him close simultaneously, her fingers so weak that she could gain no purchase to do anything. She gasped his name again as her entire body went rigid, before one final, explosive convulsion made her sight go bright white for one heartbeat—then two.

The best climax of her life, bar none.

"Fovero," she moaned as her legs fell open, leaving Stefan to trail a swirling line of kisses toward her knee.

He finally lifted his face to regard her with eyes so intent, they practically gleamed gold, and she blinked at him dazedly.

"Nicki," he asked, making the word almost a drawl, "why are you speaking Greek?"