Vampire Cowboy Read Online Free PDF Page A

could recognize the signs of a woman’s desire. Surely this was not his will at work. Or could it be that with all his thinking about her, he had unintentionally willed her to want him? She threw the chicken bone she’d been gnawing into the night and leaned toward him.
    He picked up one of Mrs. Timmons’ immaculate white dinner napkins and gently wiped the grease from Eliza’s tantalizing lips while she grimaced. He swiped at the piece of chicken on her breast, but he never knew what happened to it because, leaning all the way across the picnic basket, she brought her face close to his and demanded, “Kiss me.”
    Her lips were warm and demanding. He gave in to their demand gently, yieldingly at first, allowing her take the lead, letting her decide the pressure, parting his lips so her tongue could seek his. The heat of her living, mortal flesh warmed the coldness of his own. When he felt her waver, as though unsure or perhaps inexperienced, he took possession of her lips, and she, sighing, yielded to him.
    He moved the basket and pulled her closer to him. She came to her knees and wrapped her arms about his shoulders, once again the aggressor, holding his face, kissing him hard and deep. His hands stroked her tempting body, learning the curves of her back, the sweet dip of her waist, the luscious feel of the shape of her bottom.
    He pulled her onto his lap, cradling her with one arm while his free hand slid along the gentle swell of her belly and up to the generous curves of her bosom. Through the cotton fabric of her gown, her nipples hardened and pushed against his fingers. Heat rose in his groin, lapped at his belly. He wanted—needed—to touch her skin, to feel it under his hand, to caress and kiss it.
    “Open your gown for me, darling.” He growled and watched closely as she complied, slowly opening the first button of the high collar at her neck and then the next. His breathing grew ragged as her throat was exposed. He longed to bite, to taste—but that could wait. He was in no hurry to be sated that way with this woman. With her Daniel wanted more than that—much, much more.
    Now the buttons were opened almost to her waist, and he groaned with excitement seeing that she wore no stays or shift. There was nothing beneath her gown but her white body, the swell of her breasts. He pushed the fabric aside and took one tempting, rosy nipple between his lips, kissing and licking while he stroked and caressed her other breast. Rolling that nipple between his fingers, he sucked hungrily on the first. She gasped and leaned against him, arching to his lips, to his touch, murmuring her pleasure.
    Two centuries of practice at holding back, of refusing to allow himself to be overwhelmed by passion, were lost as desire roared like wildfire through his body, through his mind, through his very being.
    He ripped her gown open all the way, revealing that she wore neither petticoat nor drawers. He sighed, delighted, savoring the sight of her curvaceous body spread across his knees and luminous in the moonlight. His heart pounded heavily, his blood surged thickly through his veins.
    He lifted her and placed her gently upon the blankets. He stood, tearing off his coat, his collar, his shirt, as she looked up at him. He read raw need in her eyes.
    He knelt beside her and bent to kiss her throat. He could smell the blood, hear it calling to him. Not yet, it was not time yet. He ran his lips over her collarbone and down, stopping to kiss and lick each erect nipple, loving the feel of them hard against his tongue, loving the way she writhed and sighed in response. Then slowly, inch-by-inch, he kissed his way to her belly.
    He circled her navel with his tongue. He kissed his way further down, and paused before the dark curls that surrounded her sex. The aroma of her arousal filled the dry air. He would not have thought it possible, yet he felt himself grow harder, his erection painful against the stiff fabric of his