"Hamilton,.Laurell.K.-.Anita.Blake.-.12.-.Incubus.Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

He shrugged. УA lot of women are uncomfortable on stage, at first.Ф
I gave him raised eyebrows.
УI used to do an act in formal wear, and IТd pick someone from the audience to dance with. Very formal, very Fred Astaire.Ф
Somehow, Fred Astaire was not a name that came to mind when I thought of Guilty Pleasures. I said as much.
His smile was less gentle and more his own. УIf you ever came down to the club to watch one of us work instead of just giving us a ride, youТd know what we did.Ф
I gave him a look.
УYouТre dancing,Ф he said.
Of course, once he pointed out that IТd been dancing, I stopped. It was like walking on water, if you thought about it, you couldnТt do it.
Nathaniel pulled gently on my hand and pushed gently on my shoulder and got us going again. I finally settled for staring at his chest, watching his body movements as if heТd been a bad guy and it was a fight. Watch the central body for the first telltale movements.
УAt home you moved to the rhythm of the song, not just where I moved you.Ф
УThat was at home,Ф I said, staring at his chest and letting him move me around the floor. It was damn passive for me, but I couldnТt lead, because I couldnТt dance. To lead you have to know what youТre doing.
The song stopped. IТd made it through one song in public. Yeah! I looked up and met NathanielТs gaze. I expected him to look pleased, or happy, or a lot of things, but that wasnТt what was on his face. In fact, I couldnТt read the expression on his face. It was serious again, but other than that . . . we stood there, staring at each other, while I tried to figure out what was happening, and I think he tried to work up to saying something. But what? What had him all serious-faced?
I had time to ask, УWhat, whatТs wrong?Ф then the next song came on. It was fast, with a beat, and I was so out of there. I let go of Nathaniel, stepped back, and had turned, and actually gotten a step away, before he grabbed my hand. Grabbed my hand and pulled me in against him so hard and so fast that I stumbled. If I hadnТt caught myself with one arm around his body, IТd have fallen. I was suddenly acutely aware of the firmness of his back against my arm, the curve of his side cupped in the hollow of my hand. I was holding him so close to the front of my body that it seemed every inch of us from chest to groin pressed against one another. His face was painfully close to mine. His mouth so close it seemed a shame not to lay a kiss upon those lips.
His eyes were half-startled, as if IТd grabbed him, and I had, but I hadnТt meant to. Then he swayed to one side and took me with him. And just like that we were dancing, but it was different from any dancing IТd ever done. I didnТt follow his movements with my eyes, I followed them with my body. He moved, and I moved with him, not because I was supposed to, but for the same reason a tree bends in the wind, because it must.
I moved because he moved. I moved because I finally understood what theyТd all been talking about; rhythm, beat, but it wasnТt the beat of the music I was hearing, it was the rhythm of NathanielТs body, pressed so close that all I could feel was him. His body, his hands, his face. His mouth was temptingly close, but I did not close that distance. I gave myself over to his body, the warm strength in his hands, but I did not take the kiss he offered. For he was offering himself in the way that Nathaniel had, no demand, just the open-ended offer of his flesh for the taking. I ignored that kiss the way IТd ignored so many others.
He leaned into me, and I had a moment, just a moment, before his lips touched mine, to say, no, stop. But I didnТt say it. I wanted that kiss. That much I could admit to myself.
His lips brushed mine, gentle, then the kiss became part of the swaying of our bodies, so that as our bodies rocked, so the kiss moved with us. He kissed me as his body moved, and I turned my face up to him and gave myself to the movement of his mouth as IТd given myself to the movement of his body. The brush of lips became a full-blown kiss, and it was his tongue that pierced my lips, that filled my mouth, his mouth that filled mine. But it was my hand that left his back and traced his face, cupped his cheek, pressed my body deeper against his, so that I felt him stretched tight and firm under his clothes. The feel of him pressed so tight against my clothes and my body brought a small sound from my mouth, and the knowledge that the ardeur had risen early. Hours early. A distant part of me thought, Fuck, the rest of me agreed, but not in the way I meant it.
I drew back from his mouth, tried to breathe, tried to think. His hand came up to cup the back of my head, to press my mouth back to his, so that I drowned in his kiss. Drowned in the pulse and beat of his body. Drowned on the rhythms and tide of his desire. The ardeur allowed, sometimes, a glimpse into another heart, or at least their libido. IТd learned to control that part, but tonight it was as if my fragile control had been ripped away, and I stood pressed into the curves and firmness of NathanielТs body with nothing to protect me from him. Always before heТd been safe. HeТd never pushed an advantage, never gone over a line that I drew, not by word or deed; now suddenly, he was ignoring all my signals, all my silent walls. No, not ignoring them, smashing through them. Smashing them down with his hands on my body, his mouth on mine, his body pushing against mine. I could not fight the ardeur and Nathaniel, not at the same time.
I saw what he wanted. I felt it. Felt his frustration. Months of being good. Of behaving himself, of not pushing his advantage. I felt all those months of good behavior shatter around us and leave us stripped and suffocating in a desire that seemed to fill the world. Until that moment I hadnТt understood how very good heТd been. I hadnТt understood what IТd been turning down. I hadnТt understood what he was offering. I hadnТt understood . . . anything.
I pulled back from him, put a hand on his chest to keep him from closing that distance again.
УPlease, Anita, please, please,Ф his voice was low and urgent, but it was as if he couldnТt bring himself to put it into words. But the ardeur didnТt need words. I suddenly felt his body again, even though we stood feet apart. He was so hard and firm and aching. Aching, because IТd denied him release. Denied him release for months. IТd never had full-blown sex with Nathaniel, because I could feed without it. It had never occurred to me what that might mean for him. But now I could feel his body, heavy, aching with a passion that had been building for months. When last IТd touched NathanielТs needs this completely, heТd simply wanted to belong to me. That was still there but there was a demand in him, a near screaming need. A need that IТd neglected. Hell, a need that IТd pretended didnТt exist. Now, suddenly, Nathaniel wasnТt letting me ignore that need anymore.
I had a moment of clear thinking, because I felt guilty. Guilty that IТd left him wanting for so long, while I had my own needs met. IТd thought that having real sex with him would be using him; now suddenly that one glimpse into his heart let me understand that what IТd done to him had used him more surely than intercourse. IТd used Nathaniel like he was some kind of sex toy, something to bring me pleasure and be cleaned up and put back in a drawer. I was suddenly ashamed, ashamed that IТd treated him like an object, when that wasnТt how he wanted to be treated.
The guilt hit me like a cold shower, the proverbial slap in the face, and I used it to pack the ardeur away, for another hour or two, at least.
It was as if Nathaniel felt the heat spill away from me. He gave me those wide lavender eyes, huge, and glittering, glittering with unshed tears. He let his hands drop from my arms, and since IТd already dropped my hands away, we stood on the dance floor with distance between us. A distance that neither of us tried to close.
The first shining tear trailed down his cheek.
I reached out to him, and said, УNathaniel.Ф
He shook his head and backed away a step, another, then he turned and ran. Jason and Micah tried to catch him as he rushed past them, but he avoided their hands with a graceful gesture of his upper body that left them with nothing but air. He ran out the door, and they both turned to follow. But it wasnТt either of them who had to chase him down. It was me. I was the one who owed him an apology. The trouble was, I wasnТt exactly clear on what I would be apologizing for. For using him, or for not using him enough.


9

The first person I saw when I hit the parking lot wasnТt any of the men, it was Ronnie. Veronica Simms, private detective, one time my best friend, was standing off to one side from the door. She was hugging herself so hard, it looked painful. SheТs 5Т8Ф, a lot of leg, and sheТd added high heels and a short red dress to show off the legs. SheТd once told me if she had my chest sheТd never wear another high neck shirt in her life. SheТd been kidding, but when she dressed up, she showed off all that nice long stretch of leg. Her blond hair was cut at shoulder length, but sheТd curled the edges under tonight so the hair bobbed above the spaghetti straps on her nearly bare shoulders. It was bobbing at lot, because she was talking low and angry to someone I couldnТt see clearly.
I took another step into the parking lot, and the shadows cleared, and I saw Louis Fane. Louie taught biology at Washington University. He had his doctorate and was a wererat. The university knew about the doctorate but not about what he did on the full moons. He was an inch or two shorter than Ronnie, built compact, but strong. His shoulders filled out the suit he was wearing nicely. HeТd cut his dark hair short and neat since last IТd seen him. His dark eyes were almost black, and his clean-cut face was as angry as IТd ever seen it.
I couldnТt hear what they were saying, only the tone, and the tone was pissed. I realized IТd been staring, and it was none of my business. Even if Ronnie and I had still been working out together three times a week, which we werenТt, it still wouldnТt have been any of my business. Ronnie had had problems with me dating a vampire, Jean-Claude in particular, but her main objection seemed to be the vampire part. At a time when IТd needed girl advice and a little sympathy, sheТd offered only her own outrage, and anger.
WeТd started seeing each other less and less over the last few months, until it had gotten to the point where we hadnТt talked in a couple of months. IТd known she and Louie were still dating, because he and I had mutual friends. I wondered what the fight was about, but it wasnТt my fight. My fight was waiting out there in the parking lot, leaning against the side of my Jeep. All three of them were leaning against the Jeep. It was like a lineup, or an ambush.
I hesitated in the middle of the asphalt, debating on whether to go back and offer to referee Ronnie and LouieТs fight. It wasnТt kindness that made me want to go back; it was cowardice. IТd have much rather gotten dragged into someone elseТs fight than face what was waiting for me. Other peopleТs emotional pain, no matter how painful, is so much less painful than your own.
But Ronnie wouldnТt thank me for interfering, and it really wasnТt my business. Maybe IТd call her tomorrow and see if sheТd talk, see if there was still enough friendship left to save. I missed her.
I stood there in the darkened parking lot, caught between the fight behind me and the fight waiting for me. Strangely, I didnТt want to fight with anyone. I was suddenly tired, so terribly tired, and it had nothing to do with the late hour, or a long day.
I walked to the waiting men, and no one smiled at me, but then I didnТt smile at them either. I guess it wasnТt a smiling kind of conversation.
УNathaniel says you didnТt want to dance with him,Ф Micah said.
УNot true,Ф I said. УI danced, twice. What I didnТt want to do was play kissy-face in front of the cops.Ф
Micah looked at Nathaniel. Nathaniel looked at the ground. УYou kissed me earlier in front of Detective Arnet. Why was this different?Ф
УI kissed you to give Jessica the clue to stop hitting on you, because you wanted me to save you from her.Ф
He raised his eyes, and they were like two pretty wounds, so pain-filled. УSo, you only kissed me to save me, not because you wanted to?Ф
Oh, hell. Out loud I tried again, though the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that I was going to lose this argument. Lately, around Nathaniel, I always felt like I was doing something wrong, or at least not right. УThat isnТt what I meant,Ф I said.
УItТs what you said.Ф This from Micah.
УDonТt you start,Ф I said, and I heard the anger in my voice before I could stop it. The anger had been there already, I just hadnТt been aware of it. I was angry a lot, especially when I wasnТt comfortable. I liked anger better than embarrassment. Marianne, who was helping me learn to control the ever growing list of psychic powers, said that I used anger to shield myself from any unwanted emotion. She was right, I accepted that she was right, but she and I hadnТt come up with an alternative solution, yet. WhatТs a girl to do if she canТt get angry, and she canТt run away from the problem? Hell if I know. Marianne had encouraged me to be honest, emotionally honest with myself and those closest to me. Emotional honesty. It sounds so harmless, so wholesome; itТs neither.
УI donТt want to fight,Ф I said. There, that was honest.
УNone of us do,Ф Micah said.
Just hearing him be so calm helped the anger ease away. УNathaniel pushed it on the dance floor, and the ardeur rose early.Ф