Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (5 page)

I, on the other hand, have a new romantic thriller waiting for me by the couch, and once Noah heads out, this time sans Lux as she’s got a client tonight, I head to my room to change into my pajamas. When my pants crinkle as I shuck them off, I’m reminded of Ian’s flowers. I never got a chance to read the note. Between attending the marketing luncheon, two meet-and-greets, and Noah being around the whole day, it slipped my mind.

I dig out the envelope, flattening it against my thigh before ripping it open.

Dear Ella,

Last night was incredible. I’m sure my birthday will be as well, as your plans for my party look divine. I’d love for tonight to be just as memorable. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.

Ian

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Dear God, the man is yummy. And charming. What if he does this with all the women he sleeps with? The man was with Mia Tratori, for Christ’s sake. She was on the cover of the
Sports Illustrated
Swimsuit Edition last year—I only know that because of Noah’s insistence on buying that issue. Not to mention, how many other hot, famous women was he with? Why on earth would he be interested in me?

Not to mention, Noah thinks he’s such a jerk. Of course, he’s basing his opinion solely on the media’s depiction of Ian and his connection to Mick Jeffries.

Last night, though…I can feel my nerves trembling with excitement at the thought.

Bad idea. Totally bad idea. He’s a client. I really shouldn’t…

I already have his number, but he left it on the bottom of his note, so I dial it with shaking fingers.

“Ella?”

“Hi. Sorry. I just got your note. I mean, I got the flowers earlier, but I didn’t see…the note.” God, I sound like an idiot.

“It’s fine. I thought…well, I worried I might have scared you off.” His voice, deep and silky, sounds relieved.

I fight a smile. “Thanks for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

He waits a moment, then says, “Can I see you? Just for coffee, if you want. Or dinner.”

He sounds almost as nervous as I feel. “I—” What had I expected? Of course he’s going to assume that I want to meet him. You called him, you dolt! “I can meet you…I just have to get dressed.”

“I can come to you, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

Stomach officially residing in toes. “You don’t have to come all the way out here.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Then he says, “Well, technically, I’m already here. I’ve been with a client for the last two hours, and his place isn’t far from yours.” His embarrassment seeps across the line. “I
might
have been hanging out at a bar down the street, hoping you would call.”

My heart embraces turbo power and thumps wildly. “Oh. Well. You know my address.”

“I do.”

He’s at the door within minutes, ensuring I barely have enough time to brush my teeth. So electric blue, fuzzy sleep pants and long sleeve, bunny-covered fleece it is. Do I know how to do sexy, or what?

Ian, on the other hand, is divine. He’s in a suit, black with a faint pinstripe. He’s removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, so a hint of his collarbones peeks out. I’d forgotten how tall he is, and when he steps inside, I feel very small beside him.

“Hi,” I say softly.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches for me, his mouth crushing mine as he lifts me nearly off my feet. His hands slip beneath my pajamas, one caressing the bare expanse of my back, while the other slides lower to grip the curve of my ass. His tongue finds mine, and I grip his hair, holding him so I can return his fervor.

“I’m assuming you have a couch or a bed,” he whispers as he trails a path down my neck, his hand pulling aside the collar of my fleece so he has access to my shoulder.

“Both,” I whisper, eyes closing and head falling back, as he blazes heat across my skin.

“I vote for whatever’s closest.” His mouth tickles the top of my breast.

We manage to make it to the couch, and he throws off his suit jacket before sitting and pulling me down on top of him. The fleece bunnies end up on the floor, his mouth suckling my nipple so hard, I nearly cry out. But the pressure only amps my desire, and my panties are already soaked. He switches breasts, teeth nipping and scraping the pebbled tip. I’m unable to make a sound, so lost in sensation that I can only hold onto him as fire licks across my senses. When his hand slips into my pants, between my legs, just a touch sends me over the edge. I grip his shoulders as the world spins out of control, my cries echoing in my ears as he doesn’t let up, stroking me until I can barely sit upright, and yet I’m still quaking.

He removes his fingers when I’m finally spent, tasting them while meeting my gaze. “You are delicious,” he says, his voice low and sexy. “And that’s nowhere near enough.” He helps me to my feet so he can remove my pants—and fuzzy slippers—along with my underwear. He stares at me as though I’m water in an arid dessert, and I lay my hands on his shoulders, enjoying his strength as he draws me to him. His knee separates my legs, his fingers venturing between my folds, and when he slips two fingers inside of me, I clutch him for balance.

“Do you like that, Ella?”

I can barely focus, much less form words, so I nod.

“Tell me, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.” His fingers press against a sensitive spot, making my knees buckle, but his hand braces me. “Tell me, Ella, do you like this?”

“Y-yes,” I say, helpless against a whimper as he eases another finger inside me.

He fucks me with his hand, his thumb teasing my clit, until I can’t stand upright. When he eases me down onto the couch, he kneels before me, his hands running over my body. “So beautiful, Ella. You are stunning.”

I feel drunk, bleary-eyed, as I meet his gaze. I can’t even be self-conscious in my orgasmic haze. When his fingers return, I buck hard against them, loving the fullness but wanting his mouth on me. He toys with me, rubbing my sensitive nub until I’m almost coming, before removing the pressure, only to let it build once again.

“What do you want, Ella? What can I do for you?”

I’ve never been talked to during sex. Certainly never asked questions. It’s always been fun and intense, but never like this. The idea of saying what I want intimidates me, so I keep my eyes closed, hoping he’ll take the hint. But he doesn’t.

“Ella, I’d love to know what you want. What you’d like me to do to you. I can wait, if you need time to decide.”

He removes his hands from me, and I want to moan in disappointment. When I don’t feel him for long moments, I’m forced to open my eyes. He’s got a small smile on his face, as though he knows I’m struggling with answering him.

Stroking the inside of my thigh, he lowers his gaze between my legs before looking back at me. “Is there something you’d like me to do?”

I groan and close my eyes. “Please.” I shove the word out between stiff lips.

His thumb inches up my leg. “Please what?”

I throw my arm over my eyes, too embarrassed to answer. Why can’t I say what I want? What is so awful about it? But as he teases my skin, never getting close enough to where I want him, I’m left with no choice.

“Your mouth,” I whisper.

“Mm-hmm.” I can feel his breath on my sensitive skin as his hands press my thighs wider. “What about it?”

He’s going to make me say it. Goddamn it. I wriggle my hips, fighting actually getting the words out. How is it I’m a writer, but I can’t use the very tool of my craft to get what I want? Achingly slow moments pass before I finally say it. “I want your mouth on me.” I say the words on a breath. Then add, “Please.”

“I can definitely do that.” And then his tongue finds my center, swirling over the tiny bud, and he has to hold my hips to keep me still. He laves the tender flesh, his fingers working inside of me, over and over again until I’m senseless with desire.

When I’m barely able to handle any more, he undresses and dons a condom, his powerful arms lifting me up so he can take my place. Then I sink down onto him, amazed again at his erection and how stretched I feel as he guides himself inside. I’m so aroused, his entry sends little tingles of orgasm through my body. He caresses my face as I shudder, unable to do anything but close my eyes and be in the moment.

“You are so incredibly beautiful, Ella,” he says as his mouth closes over mine, the intimacy of the moment stealing whatever breath I had left. He directs my hips, his fingers gripping. At first, I rock slowly, enjoying his expressions for a change as I focus on squeezing him with my muscles. Soon I have no control left, though, and I ride him hard, feeling his cock grow even more inside me as he nears his own climax. His hand slips between us, teasing my clit as he crests, and I join him as the light explodes over us.

We end up in my bed, if only because I don’t want Noah to find us if for some reason he comes home early. Ian runs a hand over my curves, his palm stopping to tease my nipple. The light touch vacillates between tickling and arousing, and I can’t hold back my smile.

“You are a joy to watch.” He’s propped on his side, looking down at me.

I open one eye. “Why’s that?”

“Everything you feel shows on your face.” He pinches my nipple, earning a yelp from me.

I glare at him. “That would make anyone jump.”

“Maybe. But you are especially expressive.”

With a groan, I cover my eyes with my arm. “Noah says I can’t hide anything.”

“He’s right.” He resumes his exploration of my skin, skimming his hand over my stomach, then down my thigh. “When you’re ticklish, you can’t help smiling.” He traces a light circle on the inside of my hip, making me shriek in laughter.

“Which anyone would do!” I squeal as he takes the same light touch against my side.

“True.” He presses me flat to the mattress again. “But when you like something, there’s a little smile that shows up, right at the corner of your mouth, just on the right side…” His fingers trail between my legs, teasing the outside of my lips. “There it is.”

I don’t even care because right at the moment, the nerves I thought were done for the night are sparking back to life.

“And when I do this,” he spreads his fingers, separating my folds, and bumps his thumb against my clit, “Ah, there’s the head tilt and that little sigh I find intriguing.”

“God,” I breathe as he does it again, slipping against me as my hips rock against his hand.

“Hm, yes, that little sound I particularly like, too.” He eases his fingers in as though knowing my flesh is a bit tender from earlier, and I can’t help but follow his gentle rhythm.

I reach for him, pulling him down so I can lose myself in his mouth.

“I want you.” I say the words quietly, between kisses, and he immediately stills.

“Are you sure? You seemed a little sensitive.”

“I don’t care. I need to feel you.” Barely audible, I can see the effect my words have on him as he pauses, meeting my gaze with an expression I don’t understand.

“I don’t have another condom—”

“Second drawer of the nightstand to your right.” While I may not have much of a sex life, I do try to be prepared.

He grins, then vaults off the bed to dig one out. His cock, hard and thick, makes me even hungrier for him, and when he settles beside me again, I crawl on top of him, wasting no time. But he’s right, I am really sensitive, and I lower myself with exquisite slowness.

“I don’t know if I can move,” I say with a bit of wonder. I literally feel like I’ve been speared in two, but in every good way, and I may burst from the feeling of it if I shift an inch.

“Then don’t. I like looking at you on my cock, Ella. You feel hot and tight inside, so all I need to do is…” He uses a finger to torture a nipple, no doubt enjoying the way my head drops back. Every touch seems to quadruple in intensity, and by the time he’s finished with my breasts, I can’t help tilting my hips, glorying in the discomfort and pleasure tangled together.

I drop my hands on either side of his head, holding myself over him. “Fuck me, Ian. Please.”

And he does. I find myself on my back, his strokes slow, but at my urging, harder, until my cries are hoarse and my orgasm mind-numbing, but still he continues, driving me higher and higher until the world becomes a bright, shining light, and I don’t know whether I’m whole or fractured apart.