T. Grey: Take Me

Not Dominic Blackmoore.

He wore a suit as if it was made specifically for him. It fit him that well. His body filled it to perfection and the material was so smooth she was afraid to touch it. In fact, Felicity cringed to think what the dry cleaning bill would cost to have a suit like that cleaned if she so much as sneezed on it. This was not a Men’s Warehouse suit. This was a designer suit that had probably been custom made for him. And damn did it look really good on him.

The suit was black but had thin deep grey stripes running up and down the jacket and pants. The grey was so dark it looked nearly black but had glossiness to it so it caught the light. His black shoes shined with the perfect buff as if he’d just bought them from the store, and he wore a light grey shirt under the jacket that looked incredibly soft. No tie, but he didn’t need one. Everything about him screamed money as surely as if he wore a red neon sign with flashing dollar signs on it.

He had practically held her hand, and he had put her hand on his arm so she could feel the warm muscles underneath. And he had looked at her like he’d wanted to take her down to the rug right there in front of the empty fireplace and have sex with her.

Yes, her heart beat a mile a minute right now and she could do nothing to stop it. Whatever was going to happen during this interview whether she got the job or not didn’t matter because he’d looked at her like that and nothing could erase that image from her mind.

Men, or anyone for that matter, didn’t look at her like that. Like she was fuel for sexual fantasies. It wasn’t like she was horribly disfigured or ugly but she wasn’t beautiful. She knew that. It was a simple fact she lived with quite comfortably. She’d dated many men over the course of her life time including vampires and even a few mortals who’d caught her fancy along the way. If she wanted a man she could find one. It might take some time for her to find someone she liked but time was nothing. She had plenty of time.

But Dominic Blackmoore, the illustrious blue-blood, had looked at her like she just lit a fire in his gut. Boy did her body answer in return. A pulse had throbbed between her legs and for the first time in a long while she wanted to sleep with a man. Her previous dalliances ranged from one month long to six months. Yeah, that had been her longest. Beth called her ‘too picky’, but Felicity called it ‘choosey.’ After all, an eternity was a long, long time to spend with one person.

Also given that she wasn’t a great beauty and could never grace the cover of a magazine without substantial Photoshop and Dominic still had such an instantaneous response to her made her respect him so much more. Tons more.

“How are you doing this evening?” he asked breaking her out of her thoughts. At the sound of his voice, her ankle twisted and she stumbled on the stairs but quick as a wink, his arm snaked around her waist and set her straight. He didn’t touch her for any longer than polite, only enough to help straighten her out. She was only slightly disappointed.

That voice. He had a deep smoky voice, the kind that’d be perfect for telling long stories in front of a fire or working late night on the radio wooing people to sleep.

“Making a fool out of myself apparently,” she said, her cheeks coloring.

His eyes caught hers. They’d both stopped walking. They were entirely too close with the walls of the stairwell on either side of them. One to his back and one to hers. His eyes were like gold in the center surrounded by a beautiful dark mahogany wood.

The energy shifted around them, crackling like static electricity. Her breath caught at their nearness and all she could do was gaze up into his captivating eyes.

Then a smile broke out on his face and he laughed. He had a slow-building laugh that peaked at a steady rumble. Hell, even his laugh sounded nice. That wasn’t fair. He had a stern looking face as if he never had time to relax but when that smile broke out, he looked younger and carefree. It took her breath away.

“Come on, let’s talk.”

She followed him up the stairs to the second floor of the lounge. More wood touches decorated the floors and the hand carved furniture. A heavy plush rug with a very middle-eastern design took up a big portion of the floor. A dark wood coffee table sat in the middle of it and soft, leather sofas rested around it.

A small bar rested against the left wall with different bottles of alcohol and wines. Across from the bar were the tops of the wooden arches that went up to the ceiling. With nothing but a hand carved railing separating them, she could see the floor below where she’d just been.

Her eyes trailed back to the bar, and Felicity wet her lips. A rich vamp like Dominic Blackmoore probably had his own blood stash. Maybe he didn’t even have to get his from the usual commercial suppliers like she did. Hers was cheap and it tasted good enough, but he probably got his shipped to his house from only the finest of selections.

His eyes didn’t miss her reaction. He walked behind the bar then grabbed a glass. “What do you like to drink?”

She wet her drying lips. Her tongue suddenly felt parched. She’d been running on fumes so to speak. Even her clothes were bagging on her from losing a few pounds. She could go a few days with only some blood but it made her crabby, tired, and weak. She couldn’t eat in front of him since essentially that’s what she’d be doing. How could she take a sip of anything he had and not get that heavy-limbed relaxed feeling throughout her body? That drunk numbness that made everything feel wonderful if only for a little while. That’s how she’d feel if she drank any of the good blood he had. Plus, she tended to get girly giddy. So not the way to get a new job.

“I really shouldn’t drink,” she said gently and took a seat in one of the brown leather chairs. Her eyes rounded as she sat on the plush cushion then slowly sank into it.

His powerful eyes held hers for several moments. She couldn’t look away. Something about his eyes, or maybe, what he was thinking behind those eyes, captivated her.

“Seeing as this is a unique occasion I say we both share one.” He grabbed another glass then started pouring a deep red, thick liquid into it. If her stomach could growl, it would have.

“No, really that’s not necessary, Mr. Blackmoore.”

“Please, call me Dom.”

Her eyebrows rose, then he stood before her holding out a lowball glass with the letter “B” carved into the side. She took it. Instantly the scent of ripe, delicious blood mixed with dark wine filled her nostrils. She breathed it in and would have rolled her eyes back and sighed if not for the man in front of her.

She’d been right on the drink count. This wasn’t the good stuff—this was the fine stuff. Sure you could mix your own concoction of cheap red wine bought at the grocery store with your cheap blood bought from the blood bank, but it didn’t smell like this and Felicity would bet it didn’t taste nearly as good either.

Still she didn’t drink it as he took the seat across from her. His eyes never left hers. It was entirely unsettling the way he watched her. Was this some kind of interview tactic? Maybe he wanted to intimidate her to see what kind of stern stuff she was made of.

Well, she was made of stern stuff indeed.

With a small smile she leaned back into the buttery soft leather chair and held her glass on her leg as he did. His eyes flicked to the drink then back to her face. Just the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Try it. You’ll like it.”

He said it as if he already knew that. This would be impossible seeing as she’d never tried the drink and just because it smelled good didn’t always mean it tasted as good.