Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (3 page)

“He was.” He nods, his smile shrinking a bit. “But he taught me a lot. I grew up privileged. I had everything. And even though my parents tried to make sure I was brought up right and understood the world, you don’t really get it until you see it. You know what I mean?”

I nod. “I do. We were the opposite. My parents…they did okay for themselves, and they were smart. They got life insurance, so when Noah and I turned eighteen, we had college money and a little bit of a cushion to survive on. But our grandparents were poor. So we grew up knowing the price difference between frozen and canned peas and watching the coupon pages in the newspaper. But we knew we had more than others.”

“Exactly. We get comfortable in our lives here—and we should. That’s part of living in this country. But it’s dangerous when we assume everyone has that opportunity.”

The intensity of the conversation turns the silence afterwards reflective. We sit quietly for a few minutes, each lost in thought.

“More coffee?” Ian nods to my cup.

“Sure.” I follow him into the kitchen, noting how well his suit pants fit his ass and the way his shirt clings to his muscled shoulders. Yummy, indeed.

He’s doing something with the coffee machine, and I lean back against the counter, trying not to stare at him. When he turns, he’s just a bit too close, and then his mouth is on mine, soft yet demanding, and his hands slide up to my shoulders. It’s a quick kiss, almost chaste, but the heat sears my lips.

“I really hope you wanted me to do that.” He drops his hands to his sides, his tone pensive.

I bite my lip, still feeling his mouth. “I didn’t stop you.” My insides are turning to jelly, but all I want is to feel him against me again. So I do something I never do.

I make the next move. He’s taller than me by several inches, so I draw his face down to mine, lips teasing over his as I ease us into the next kiss. His mouth is hungry, but his touch soft as his hands slide over my back, pulling me against him. I lean in, enjoying the sculpted length of him against my body and the light scent of his aftershave. When my tongue teases the edge of his mouth, he answers in kind, deepening the kiss, his arms tightening around me.

“Wow,” I say when we come up for air. “That was…”

“Unexpected?” His eyes crinkle at the corners, his expression hopeful.

“Lovely, actually.”

We forget about the coffee, getting lost in the excitement of skin and heat. When his hand slides beneath my sweater, moisture pools between my legs. I haven’t felt this turned on in a long time, and for once, my usual caution seems to have evaporated. He lifts me, setting me on his counter as he continues his exploration of my skin. I wrap my legs around his waist, enjoying the feel of his hardness against me. His fingers release my bra, and when his palm skims my breast, I suck in a breath, letting his mouth drop to my neck as I revel in the sensation.

“I want to undress you,” he whispers in my ear, sending a delicious chill down to my core. “It would be a lot easier in my bedroom.” He pulls back so he can look in my eyes.

I barely nod, trying not to think about what I’m agreeing to, and yet knowing all too well. His kiss makes me forget all logic, and when he steps back and offers me his hand, I follow willingly.

Whether he has one bedroom or twelve, I couldn’t tell you. All I want are his hands on my skin. His bedroom has a large bed, modern furnishings, but beyond that, I don’t notice as he sits on the bed, positioning me between his legs. His hands guide my sweater over my head, my bra quickly following, and his mouth encircles a nipple while his fingers torture my other breast. I tangle my hands in his thick hair, surprised by the moans I barely recognize as my own. His tongue laves the pebbled tips, moving slowly between each sensitive nipple, and I’m nearly begging for release when he finally seeks out the top button of my jeans.

I shuck them off, boots joining them, standing before him in only green silk panties (and thanking God I wore my better underwear tonight). Gripping my hips, he adjusts me so I can straddle him. His cock pulses through his pants, and he pulls me down against him. I feel like I’m going to explode as I rub against his shaft.

When I reach for his pants, he stills my hand. “Not yet.” His eyes are dark with desire, but instead of undressing, he shifts gently so I topple onto my back.

As his attention focuses between my thighs, I reach for him. “Don’t. It’s not really…um, something that, you know…works for me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Really? Are you sure it’s been done right?”

I laugh nervously. “I don’t know. It just never…really, um…did much.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment, then meets my gaze. “May I try? I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

I’ve got a near stranger asking me if he can go down on me. The oddness of the situation combined with the intensity of my desire has me giggling. Yes, giggling. But I nod, hands shaking with nerves as he kneels between my spread legs and removes my panties. With soft strokes, he teases my sensitive folds apart. He takes his time, letting me acclimate to his touch. I’ve never experienced anything like this, and I find myself both relaxed and aroused. When his tongue finds me, I startle a bit, but rather than the direct approach I’m used to, he massages around the bundle of nerves with gentle pressure. My fear evaporates, and I widen my legs to give him full access.

His fingers slip inside me as I grip the comforter, crying out as his tongue offers no mercy. When I can barely take anymore, my orgasm breaks over my skin, a whirlwind of cold and hot across my senses. His hands hold my hips in place as I buck hard, unable to stop the waves of pleasure that push into me again and again.

When I’m finally spent, he sits back on his heels, a satisfied grin on his face. “Like I said, are you sure it’s been done right?”

I lift my head so I can meet his smug gaze. “Point made.” Then I fall back against the comforter.

Lost in my post-orgasm haze, I am vaguely aware of him undressing, the sound of condom foil ripping, and then he’s beside me. He kisses me, his tongue sweeping in and possessing my mouth. I wriggle closer to him, letting him drape my thigh over his hip. I draw my hand down over his pectorals, the muscles shifting under my touch as I trail lower over the taut plane of his abs. His cock, hard and pulsating between us, twitches as I skim lower.

Despite my desire to dissolve into jelly after my delicious orgasm, exploring his body pulls me back into the maelstrom of desire. When I push him back against the bed, he goes willingly. He holds my hips as I balance over him, the head of his cock widening my entrance. He’s thicker than I expected, and as I slide down, I have to stop and let myself adjust to him.

His thumb finds my clit, and I lean back, bracing myself against his thighs as the sensation overwhelms me again. I shudder in anticipation of yet another orgasm, but I’m determined to hold out, to make sure he can join me before I come again. Finally able to take his full length inside of me, I begin to move, feeling so full that the silken friction seems to hit every single nerve ending. I fall forward, finding his mouth, savaging his lips as I increase my pace. His palms cup my ass, forcing him even deeper inside of me.

“Oh, my God,” I whimper into his mouth, shivering against the pleasure.

“Don’t hold back, Ella.” He holds my face, meeting my gaze. “Let yourself go.”

And I can’t help it. With hoarse cries, I come again, nearly mindless in the roiling heat. I barely notice our position changing. He’s suddenly above me, his thrusts hard and furious. He spreads my thighs wide, pumping into me so hard, I feel as though I might come apart. The sensations are beyond anything I can describe, and as he’s nearing his own climax, he drops his fingers down to my center. As he finds his own fulfillment, my muscles quake around him yet again, leaving me nearly unconscious with pleasure.

CHAPTER 3

AWKWARD BEGINNINGS

T
here is, however, the awkwardness afterwards…the downside to sleeping with someone you barely know. Which is, in large part, why I don’t typically do things this way.

I must have dozed off for a while. I look around the room, dimly lit by his bedside lamp, trying to get my bearings. He’s beside me, his eyes closed and his hand splayed over my stomach. Do I get dressed? Is there post-coital-requisite cuddling afterwards, particularly when you’ve just had the best sex of your life? I could use Noah as a consultant right about now.

Thankfully, when I chance a look at Ian again, his eyes are open. “I like the way Elementary does business.”

My cheeks inflame, and I try to turn away. But he locks his arm around my waist, pulling my back against his chest. “I’m teasing. But that was pretty incredible. Watching you come is like seeing the skies open up with sun after a violent thunderstorm.” He drops a kiss on my shoulder.

His words both thrill and embarrass me, and I relax for a moment, enjoying the feel and scent of him, but while I know he was joking, his comment is a crystal clear reminder of what I just did. Noah’s never going to let me live this down. “I should get going. I’m sure it’s late.”

“I’ll order a car for you.”

He releases me, and I wriggle off the bed. My underwear has gone missing, and I’m hunting for my other winter sock when he holds out the small slip of silk.

“Looking for these?”

I stick my tongue out at his insufferable grin and snatch them from him. “Ha. Ha.” He’s slipped on a Cornell sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, and still manages to look like he’s ready for a modeling shoot. Damn him.

Once dressed, I feel moderately composed, though perhaps only because I’m not naked. But when he hauls me against him and captures my mouth, I melt into a puddle of goo all over again.

Breathless, I flatten my hands against his chest, lightly pressing. “I’ve got to go.” Though my sex drive has other ideas.

“You could stay a bit longer. I can think of all sorts of things to get you to make that little high-pitched cat sound again.”

Now I shove him away in earnest. “Nice.”

But he reaches for me again, his hand cupping my face so I’m forced to look into his eyes. “And I particularly enjoyed the breathy whimper you make when you’re just about to climax.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “And the way your breath hitches when I do this.” His lips cover mine, soft, seeking, and then his tongue strokes against mine in an erotic dance that, dammit, has my breath catching. “Just like that.” His hand slides down my back, over my ass, holding me against him so his erection is cradled between us. He presses a kiss against my forehead. “You’re incredible.”

When I finally pull out of his embrace, my skin chills apart from his heat, and even when I slip into my coat as I’m about to leave, the feeling remains.

A sleek sedan waits in the empty street—it’s almost one in the morning. But rather than tuck me into the car, Ian joins me.

“It’s my firm’s car service, but I’d still like to see you home safely. If that’s okay.”

I duck my head in affirmation, and I’m glad he’s doing so. Makes me feel less like a trollop. He takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. The act has such an intimacy attached, I almost feel like this wasn’t just sex. But that’s ridiculous, right? You don’t meet someone, sleep with them, and then have that kind of connection. We sit in silence for much of the trip, as though trying to accustom ourselves to the other’s energy and space. I’m berating myself for being so foolish, even though I thoroughly enjoyed myself. But while my brother can have a different flavor in his bed every week—hell, sometimes every night—I’ve never been like that. Worse yet, Ian’s a client.

I’m lost in my thoughts when he squeezes my hand. “I think this is your street?”

I glance out the window and nod. “Yep, this is me.” I pull my bag closer and slip my hand out of his to don my gloves and tighten my scarf.

“Any chance I could take you to lunch tomorrow?”

His request stalls my movement. “Tomorrow? Lunch?” I parrot back. “Um, I’ve got a pretty packed day.” It’s the truth, but even as I say it, it sounds like a brush off.

“Dinner then? Coffee, even?” He narrows his eyes.

Dear God, the man is beautiful. It takes everything in me to turn him down. But until his party is over and I can figure out what the hell I’m doing, I should keep my distance. “I’m really busy tomorrow.” I offer an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

He nods, but there’s confusion in his eyes. “Sure, I get it.”

But when he walks to my door, there’s a definite shift in the mood, and he brushes his lips against my cheek in parting. “In two weeks, then,” he says, and steps back as I unlock the shared front door of my building.

“Absolutely.” With a finger wave, I shut the door behind me and head for the stairs. But there’s an ache in my gut, as though I just made a really bad move, and I’m not sure how to fix it.

As I fumble through a shower and slip beneath my sheets, there’s a tightness in my chest. It’s not just because I did something out of character tonight, either. I’ve spent several years walking around in a heartbroken haze, confident that life would never offer me something of value—not when it comes to romance. Tonight shook that belief, though. And while that might seem like a good thing in the abstract, the reality leaves me sleepless and unsure. What if I’m not a lost cause after all?