Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (13 page)

Showtime.

I tread softly, relieved to see that his door is closed. At least I can prepare myself in the hallway for a moment. There’s also, thankfully, no one nearby, though I can hear a copier’s buzz somewhere on the opposite side of the hallway. The sushi weighs heavy in my hand, and I lean towards his door, hearing the familiar rumble of Ian’s voice. I listen for a few moments for another voice in the room, but based on the silence in between the sound of his voice—I can’t make out the words—I’m guessing he’s on the phone. I drop my bags beside me, and with a furtive look around, I slink out of my coat and tuck it around the bags.

Then I try his doorknob. It turns smoothly in my hand, making little noise so I can peek through a crack before swinging the door open. Ian’s in his desk chair, his back to me, facing the windows that look out onto the street below.

“That’s exactly what I told her, but you know how she is,” he says into the phone pressed to his ear.

I slide in and close the door behind me, the slight click muffled. While not expansive, his office has ample room for his desk, a few visitor chairs, a refreshment bar with a coffee maker, and a small couch against the back wall. I stand there for a few moments, unable to make out what the garbled voice is saying to Ian. He must sense I’m there, as he turns slightly in his chair, craning his neck.

His eyes catch mine, then the rest of me, and his expression goes from work polite to stunned…to hungry.

“Carl, let me call you back in a few. Someone just walked in.” He listens, but I wonder if he hears anything that’s being said as his gaze never leaves my body. “Yeah, sure thing…sure…yep. Talk to you later.” When he hangs up the phone, a grin curves his lips. “Hello.”

As I step towards him, I feel like I’m moving to the heartbeat that pounds in my ears. “I brought lunch.”

He leans back as I approach, appreciation radiating in his eyes. “I can see that.”

“I thought you might like to eat-in.” I stop just short of his knees. I can only imagine what he sees—the tightened corset that forces my small breasts into abundant cleavage and nips in at my waist. The matching garters and stockings that follow the curves of my legs down to the ridiculously high heels. Whatever nerves I have are soothed by the desire in his expression.

He reaches for me, but I step back. “No, no. My turn to play.” My voice shakes a little, but his attention gives me confidence. Crooking a finger, I draw him to me. The heels give me just enough height that I can reach his mouth without resorting to tiptoes. I tangle my fingers in his hair, anchoring him so my tongue can explore his mouth. His arms wrap around me, but the minute he starts to pull me tight, I back out of his embrace.

“Hm-mm.” I take his hand and tug him towards the love seat. He falls into it without much encouragement, his smile widening as I stand over him.

“My God, Ella. You’re stunning.” He breathes the words as I straddle him.

I can’t help smiling myself, pleased that my plan worked. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider your mission successful,” he murmurs as I cover his mouth with mine, and I loosen his tie as we dissolve into each other.

His hands roam my body, cupping my ass and curving his fingers between my legs. His touch is exquisite, but I have a plan, so I wriggle onto the floor. “No distracting me.” I spread my fingers over his thighs, sliding them north until I stroke his erection through his trousers.

He tucks a stray curl behind my ear as he gazes down at me with such need, my breath catches.

I make quick work of his belt and pants, letting his briefs join the pile of clothing as I reach for his cock. While I’ve not had a large menu of sexual experiences, I’m pretty sure he’s not typical as I wrap my fingers around his silken girth. I swirl my tongue around the tip, earning a groan from him, then widen my mouth around him. His hand rests on my head lightly, and as I torture the length of him with my lips, he fights to stay still.

He grips my hair finally, interrupting me.

“I’m going to come if you don’t stop, Ella.”

“That’s the idea.” I smile up at him, enjoying the war I see in his eyes.

He shakes his head, though it seems to pain him. “I want you to enjoy this as well.”

“I am, Ian. Just lie back. Let yourself go,” I say, remembering the words he said to me last Thursday night.

With little reservation, he obeys, and as he climaxes, I increase the pressure, pleased I can send him even higher. When his shudders fade, he reaches for me, hauling me into his lap and forcing my mouth to his in a kiss so intense, I can barely inhale.

“You are incredible.” He lays his forehead against mine, his finger tracing my cheek.

I nip his bottom lip. “You aren’t too shabby yourself, Mr. Crane.” But his compliment has me soaring with pride.

His hand slides between my legs, his fingers slipping over my panties. “I think you might need a little attention, too, sweetheart.”

I don’t argue as his touch feels too incredible, and pleasuring him drove my own need. He maneuvers me so I’m lying with my back against him, my legs falling on the outside of his. He catches my mouth in a searing kiss while his hands travel over my body. Shifting my panties to the side, his fingers enter me, thick and deep. He spreads his legs, forcing me even wider as his other hand manages to extract my breast from the corset. With firm pressure on my nipple, he massages his thumb against my clit. I arch my back, moaning into his mouth.

He answers by adding another finger inside me and increasing his tempo. I don’t recognize the guttural cries rising in my throat, muted only by our kiss. When I finally reach my crescendo, I struggle to stay quiet, the pressure proving nearly too much. I shudder with my release, falling back against him with heavy limbs.

“Very nice, Ms. Storm,” he says softly, his fingers still caressing my breast. “The next time we plan a lunch, I’ll have to dress accordingly.”

I chuckle despite my exhaustion. “How? Skip wearing pants?”

I can feel his grin against my ear. “Mm. And make sure I have the entire afternoon free to devote to your pleasures.”

My cheeks burn at the thought, and a little voice in my head wonders when I became a woman for whom a powerful attorney clears his calendar. It feels surreal.

When we manage to stand, he checks the hallway before snagging my bags. We sit on the couch and devour the food, him in just his shirt and underwear and me in my corset and stockings.

“I could definitely get used to this. Shall we do it again next Thursday?” He winks.

“I can probably arrange that. Though I might go with wearing jeans and sneakers and keep this getup for the evenings. The subway was
cold
.”

He laughs. “I bet it was. You look beautiful, of course. But you look pretty hot in jeans, too.”

I shove a bit of tuna sushi in my mouth to cover my embarrassment.

He reaches out and grabs my hand. “I notice that you get embarrassed when you’re complimented. Is that just because you’re a little shy, or is there another reason?”

His insight surprises me. “Why do you think there’s another reason besides being shy?”

He gives my question some thought while chewing. “When my aunt commended you, I noticed how you seemed to want to disappear. It was more than your blush,” he teases gently. “You physically seemed to shrink.”

I get up from our smorgasbord under the guise of snagging another water out of the small refrigerator in the corner of his office. In truth, I need to compose my reaction. Most people just assume I’m shy, and Ian is one of the few who’ve caught on that there’s more to it. I bite the inside of my lip, debating if it’s too soon to air dirty laundry. Aren’t we still in the honeymoon phase where everything is supposed to be perfect and set in a bit too-rosy a light?

When I return, I pull out my coat and sit on the floor, needing some space to speak. But I’m close enough to rest a hand on his knee when he looks down at me in confusion. “I was in a relationship for a really long time. Like, five years long. We were supposed to get married, have a family, do all those things people do.”

I squeeze the words out between stiff lips, not wanting to even speak the truth that embarrasses me beyond anything else. “He’s why I came to New York—we met online while I was back home. His name is Jonathan. He was a year younger than me—the same age as Noah. Originally, I was going to go to a community college back home, but when Noah wanted to go to NYU, it seemed like fate. Jonathan had already been accepted to Columbia, and he was perfect. So stupid me, I fell for him and decided to wait and go to college with Noah.” I shake my head, still astounded by my foolishness. “I rationalized that a year of working full-time before going to college would give me real world experience. And it did. But I had no idea…”

He’s stopped eating, his eyes never leaving my face. While I appreciate his focus, it’s making me feel even more foolish, and I turn a chopstick between my fingers.

“Anyway, we were together through college, and everyone just assumed we’d be happily ever after. Even Noah, in the beginning. Though he saw the signs earlier than even I did.” I closed my eyes, wishing talking about the experience didn’t bring it to life in full color in my mind’s eye. “He…we were…it’s hard to describe. Everything remained the same to the outside world, but the longer we were together—when the bloom fell off the rose, I guess—he started making comments. Little things. About the size of my thighs, or that my breasts weren’t very big. Stuff like that. And he’d say it like it was a joke, that he was just teasing, and then he’d tell me I was perfect and I shouldn’t be so sensitive.”

Ian takes the chopstick from me and links our fingers. “He mocked you while making it seem like you were the one with the problem.”

I nod, glad he gets it. “Exactly.”

“Ella—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. And don’t look at me like that. It’s over.” I try to soften my words with as much of a grin as I can muster. “I don’t even like thinking about it. Our breakup was…brutal, and it’s been awhile since I could even think about seeing anyone.”

Understanding dawns in his gaze. “So I’m the first person you’ve been with since then?”

I manage a wry smile at his phrasing. “Yes. You’re also the first guy I’ve fucked.”

He chuckles at my bald language. Then he stands. “Come here.”

I join him, unsure what to expect. But he pulls me against him, then tilts my face so I meet his eyes. “You don’t deserve to be mocked. Ever.”

“I know that now. But when you’re in the moment, and someone makes it seem like you are being overly sensitive, it’s easy to forget.”

He holds me then, in the quiet stillness of his office, despite the echoes of honking horns and busy city life outside. We simply exist, and I can’t imagine a more perfect moment than this.

CHAPTER 13

CAT’S OUT OF THE BAG

W
e should do this every week,” Lux says as we pass between stations at a high-end salon and spa. We’re both in luxurious smocks, our hair drawn up in towels to keep it out of the way during our facials. While I agree that having a facial, a mani-pedi, and a hair treatment is the height of luxury, I have so much to do today I can’t really relax. The downside to all my romantic entanglements this past week: I’m horribly behind, and Ian’s party is tomorrow night.

On one hand, I’m looking forward to testing out my latest mystery on an audience, but I’m also anxious for it to be over—both because I want to know if this story is as good as I think it is, but also because I want to be able to remove the “client” label from my relationship with Ian.

Speaking of whom, my phone dings yet again.

Saturday can’t come quickly enough. I miss your mouth. Your skin. Your little intake of breath right before you come.

We’re seated at side-by-side pedicure chairs, and Lux laughs when my cheeks turn red.

“Wow. You definitely have it bad, love. How is the mystery man today?”

I refuse to look up; instead, I tap my response to Ian.

You mean “Sunday.” While I do consider Elementary a one-stop shop for parties, we draw the line at live sex acts. That will have to wait until the next day.

I stash my phone in my jeans pocket and stare at the woman massaging my feet. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lux snorts and shakes her head. “Ella, Ella. When will you learn that you can’t keep secrets? Not with a face like yours.”

I feel her gaze weighing on me, but I don’t look at her.

She nudges my shoulder. “What if I promise not to breathe a word about his identity to anyone, including Noah? It’ll be our secret.”

Now it’s my turn to scoff. “Please. You and Noah share the same brain. I won’t be fooled by your attempts at subterfuge.”

She chortles in merriment. “I’m not here as an emissary for your brother. Think of me as Switzerland. I’m only interested in figuring out your secret for my own devious happiness.”

I can’t help laughing. “Yeah, yeah. Always an angle.”

She lets silence fall, which I’m sure she knows is the worst pressure of all. I close my eyes, trying to enjoy and embrace the soft, new age music and penetrating ministrations of the pedicure. But it’s no use.