by Lisa Y. Drexel

"Come in, Spike," she said softly as she opened the door and waved her hand.

His scarred eyebrow went up, a delicious smirk curled his lips and suddenly he was standing right in front of her.

A breath's distance.

He closed the door himself.

She heard the lock turn, clicking loudly in the otherwise silent room.

Why suddenly did she feel as if she had closed the door on her former life?

Because, she invited a demon inside. A real honest, soul-less demon that had threatened her life on numerous occasions, saved it on others and haunted her dreams for nearly a year.

And who provoked more passion in her shy heart than Oz and Xander combined…

Oh Goddess, she thought to herself. How am I going to make it through the night—without doing things--bad things that only her vampire self had done.

Ignoring the wild beat of her heart, she looked up and their eyes met and what she saw shook her to the core of her being.

It was the same passion—want—need in his eyes that she had seen in the shapeshifter's. That same desire that had called to her—brought her to his bed.

Her dry throat ached when she swallowed. "Would—would you like something to drink?" she asked him as she dropped her eyes. "I mean something of the non-blood category 'cause I don't have any of that—except mine and I like mine where it's at—"

He caressed her cheek, stopping her. "I'm fine, luv."

At the feel of his cool fingers on her cheek, she nearly whimpered. Had there always been so much heat between them? If so, why hadn't she noticed it before?

His hand dropped to hers, and held it, as he led her to the living room. He released his hold and shrugged his coat off, tossing it onto another chair.

She watched him, admiring his graceful, panther-like movements as his deep blue silk shirt slid seductively across his back.

Oh, what she would do to be able to touch it—touch him.

He sunk down on the couch and pulled her next to him, catching her when she almost fell into his lap. He placed her next to him, his black leather pants rubbing against her black Levi Jeans. As she stared at his pale hand—holding hers—she found herself comparing the skin tones. His, an alabaster—almost white marble. Cool to the touch—strong, beautiful. Hers, a pale pink, reddened by his hold—but much like a rose—a pink rose—maybe beautiful, but short-lived.

Suddenly images of her possible death flashed across her mind. A million scenarios—from being at the wrong end of Oz-wolf without her tranquilizer gun to a random vampire attack—to finally meeting a demon that they couldn't beat.

And yet, Spike, like Angel, had an eternity—more like the pyramids in comparison to her straw hut than anything else.

What the hell was she getting into?

She looked up and met his dark blue eyes, silently asking him why; curious if he even knew.

He reached over with his free hand and once again touched her face—almost reverently.

She sucked in a breath, wondering what he was going to do next—wondering if he actually did want to talk—if they would ever talk.

He released her hand and with both of his, he dropped his hold to her waist and easily lifted her onto his lap, setting her on his legs, while his arm supported her back.

He looked at her once again and suddenly quicker than she believed possible, his lips met hers—his hand holding the back of her head, pushing her towards him as his cold lips moved over her fiery ones.

And just as quick, he pulled away, leaving her breathless as his hand played with strands of her hair that fell free from its clasp.

She laid her head on his shoulder and finally succumbed to that need to touch his shirt and began to play with the buttons—occasionally touching the silk, enjoying its sensuous touch against her hands—

—And waited.

Next in series - Things Confessed

Willow & Spike fic   SunnyHell Haven   Fanfic page

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©1999 Lisa Y. Drexel