Page 30 of Taste of Blood

I pull up my pants and start to walk past him to the hallway beyond the room in search of a bathroom, then stop in front of him.

We stare at each other for a long minute, then I nod, not knowing what I want to say. He returns the gesture, and just like that we’re back where we started.

13: Cord

BY THE TIME I text Dante the address of where to find Smyth’s body and clean myself and my axe up in the kitchen, Asher is dressed and respectable again, minus a couple of buttons on his shirt. He doesn’t say anything about what happened earlier, though I can practically feel his thoughts.

It’s just as well because I don’t know how to explain my actions. I won’t go so far as to call it a mistake, but it was definitely ill-advised, especially since it likely gave him the wrong idea.

Not that I didn’t enjoy it.

I did.

Perhaps too much.

And that’s the problem.

Because if I’m being honest with myself, I’d like it to happen again. And soon.

I’d forgotten how good it felt to be inside him. How good it felt to kiss him. To feel him coming apart.

To taste his blood.

I don’t know what possessed me to attack him like that. And it was an attack. I couldn’t stop myself. All I knew was that I needed him. Immediately.

We’re almost back to Manhattan and he still hasn’t said anything. I glance over at him and can see a peek of bare flesh where he’s missing buttons.

“Sorry about your shirt,” I murmur.

He turns and meets my eyes. “I’m not.”

My cock twitches and I have to force myself to think of something else. Anything other than the feel of his body moving with mine. The taste of his lips. The sound of his moans.

Jesus, get a hold of yourself.

All too soon we’re in front of his building. I double-park out front and turn to him. “Thanks again…for the information.”

His lip curls up in a smirk. “If you needanythingelse, you know where to find me.”

And then he’s out of the car and disappearing into the building. I stare after him for a moment, my brain at war with my dick. Part of me wants to follow him upstairs and pick up where we left off.

That’s the part that says to hell with tomorrow, let’s just live for today. Lose ourselves in the kind of debauchery we were always so good at.

The other part–the rationale part–knows what a bad idea that is. It would be good for a while, then things would end up just like they were before. I don’t care how much Asher claims he’s changed, I know him.

And I don’t think I have the strength to leave him a second time.

I turn the car around and head home, where a hot shower and long nap await me.

♦ ♦ ♦

I sleep the rest of the day away, awakening after sunset. Since I haven’t heard anything from Dante, I assume I’m free tonight to head over to Brooklyn and check out the area around Giovanni’s.

The dinner rush hasn’t quite picked up yet as I park and make my way down the street toward the restaurant. I do a quicktrip around the block to check out the alley, not expecting to find anyone there yet, then cross the street to the coffee shop where I met Luca the other day. Since I’m the only customer in the place, I grab a coffee and claim the same table by the window. And then I settle in to watch.

Foot traffic starts to pick up around eight, with several couples heading into the two restaurants on this block, Giovanni’s at this end and Nicko’s at the other. I don’t spot anyone lingering around outside, though I can’t see the alley. Chances are if they’re waiting for workers to get off, they won’t show up until closing time. From the sign I saw on the door of Giovanni’s, that’s ten o’clock on a weekday.

Around nine-thirty I leave the coffee shop and head across the street, rounding the block and entering the alley. Other than a couple of kitchen workers on a smoke break outside Nicko’s, it’s deserted. I make my way down to the middle of the block and settle in behind a dumpster to wait.