Truth Or Dare (17 page)

Erica wouldn’t be loitering in the front of thestore. No, the little witch would be in one of the fetish sections—and he knew exactly which one.

He found her standing in front of an aisle of domination wear, fingering a heavy leather dog collar with silver studs. Knowing her thoughts, he stepped up silently behind her and growled low, “Unless you want to end up wearing that thing, I’d suggest you put it back down.”

She’d been so lost in thought her whole body jerked with his first words. “Damn it,” she snapped even before whirling around to face him. The leather collar was gripped tight in her hand. “Can’t you ever make a normal entrance?”

In contrast to her near shout, Ian’s words were calm and quiet. “Into a porn shop? What would you consider normal?”

She scowled, then mumbled, “For such a big guy, you’re awfully good at sneaking around.”

“Next time I’ll clear my throat.” He deliberately made his tone patronizing enough that she couldn’t possibly let it pass.

She didn’t. Her brows drew down, her eyes glittered with annoyance, her mouth opened—and Ian leaned down and kissed her.

They were in the middle of a porn shop with a few customers milling around, but that didn’t stop him. At the moment, a tornado couldn’t have stopped him.

He’d thought about tasting her all day.

On the most basic level, her innate sexuality called out to him. Because he was a big man and could easily cause harm with his physical strength, he’d learned early on to control his reactions in all things. He kept an iron grip on his anger with men, and he tempered his sexual drive with women.

But with Erica, he had a feeling he could let loose in every way and she’d handle it—and him—just fine.

Focused on that fact, he curved his hands around her neck and used his thumbs to tip up her chin. Her eyes widened just before he took her mouth the way he’d wanted to take it since first meeting her.

A small, very feminine sound escaped her and a heartbeat later she went soft and warm. He watched her thick black lashes drift shut, felt her hands curve against his chest. The hard leather of the collar she still held dug into his left pectoral muscle.

Her lips were full and soft and opened more to allow the slide of his tongue. There was no gentle prelude, no tentative exploration. In so many ways, he’d been thinking of Erica as his since the moment he’d learned what she and her friends had planned. The reality of having her here now, soon to be his in fact as well as fantasy, was almost more than he could survive.

He kissed her deeply, loving the hot, damp taste of her mouth, the way she kissed him back, her expertise. The sound of their accelerated breathing echoed in his ears. Damn, he was a hair away from losing it.

He pulled back the tiniest bit, saw the excitement and reciprocal urgency on her face, and kissed her again.

The collar dropped to the floor.

Because they weren’t alone and he didn’t want her to suffer any regrets, he eased away, releasing her slowly, pressing small damp kisses to her chin, her cheek, her throat. This way,” he murmured, and carefully stepped her around the forgotten collar.

With a naturalness that normally came from long association, she nestled into his side. He kept his arm around her, his hand curving over her shoulder. In his opinion, she fit against him perfectly.

For the moment, she seemed docile enough.

A smile tugged at his mouth, but he resisted it. If he laughed now, Erica would not only go back for the collar, but probably a leash as well.

“What are we doing?” she asked when he stepped up to the back counter where an array of oils, exotic scents, and lotions were displayed.

“Making a few purchases.”

“But I haven’t decided what I want yet.”

He knew what
he
wanted, so again, he smothered his satisfied grin. “It’s your day, right?”

Wearing a suspicious frown, she nodded.

“So I figured I should pamper you.”

One brow rose. “Pamper me how exactly?”

“How’s dinner, a massage, and a long bubble bath sound?”

“Like heaven, but what’s that got to do with sex?”

He almost said,
You’re kidding, right?
but then he saw she was serious. Damn, but she must have been with a bunch of losers if she didn’t understand the pleasure in setting the mood and indulging in extensive foreplay.

He gave her his own frown while carefully deciding how to word his answer. “Sex is best when both people are totally into it. I want you to be as comfortable and satisfied as possible. We’re getting together during dinnertime, so I want to feed you. You’ve worked hard all day, so I want to relax you. Anything sexual you want, anywhere along the way, you just say so and believe me I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

“You think so, do you?”

More bluster. He’d taken her by surprise, so naturally she got defensive. It was odd, but as often as not, Erica touched his heart as much as his libido.

He stroked his hands over her glossy black hair and lowered his voice more. “Erica, there isn’t anything you can ask me to do to you or for you that I won’t enjoy. I thought you already knew how much I want you.”

The signs of arousal were easy to see on her face; the color in her cheeks, her expanded pupils, her parted lips. Still, the words from her mouth weren’t encouraging.

“And if I want to watch you squirm? If I want to see how you deal with waiting?”

If he didn’t know her so well, Ian might have been duped. But he did know her and the little darling wanted him, she just wanted to see how far she could push. Well, two could play that game—but only one would win, and he already knew when the night was over, Erica would be his.

He touched her mouth with his thumb. “I’ve been waiting months already. I can survive a few more days.” Turning away, he picked up a small decorative bottle of massage oil. The label claimed properties that would leave your skin tingling and your nerve endings alive. Erica was such a sexy little thing, he doubted he’d need the oil, but maybe …

Erica snatched it out of his hand. “What do you mean you’ve been waiting months?”

Except for one quick, questioning glance, hekept his back to her. “The day I first saw you, I wanted you. There hasn’t been a minute since that I haven’t wanted you.” He fingered a massage mitt—some fuzzy contraption far too small for his hand—then moved on to the bubble bath. He could feel Erica standing just behind him, befuddled, annoyed, brimming with nervous uncertainty that she’d do her best to hide.

He gave her half a minute to mentally chew on what he’d said before facing her again. When he stared down at her, she met and held his gaze by sheer force of will. She had guts, his Erica, and he admired her more every moment he spent with her. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever stop.”

She swallowed. “Stop?”

“Wanting you.” Then he shrugged, dismissing the moment of heavy sexual tension and again turning back to the products. “But we’ll work that out this weekend.” He handed her the bubble bath.

She accepted it automatically. “Work what out?”

“How we really feel about each other.”

“Bu-but that’s absurd!”

“Stammering?” He draped his arm around her again and headed them both toward the checkout. “Not at all. I like you a lot, but it’s hard to say how much when all I can usually think about is getting inside you.”

She stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her.

“Wait a minute.” Annoyed, she tried digging in her heels.

He kept walking, sweeping her along with him. “I have only so much patience, honey.”

“But … what is this about a weekend? We’regetting together for one night and one night only.”

He snorted, but otherwise kept his thoughts to himself. She sounded panicked enough without him telling her why he needed a whole weekend. One way or another, he’d convince her, once he got her alone.

“Damn it, Ian, I am not committing the whole weekend to you.”

She could really dent his ego if he let her. Not that he would. He said only, “Why not? I figure it’ll take me at least that long just to get used to seeing you in my place.”

“Yeah?” Like a dog on a bone, she jumped on that. “Well if you don’t want me there, then …”

“Oh, I want you there all right.”

“Blast it, Ian.” She jerked to a halt, forcing him to do the same.

“What’s wrong now?”

In typical Erica fashion, she tossed her head, sending her silky mane of hair to fall behind her shoulders. “You keep throwing out these obscure comments in between insulting me and threatening me.” Her nose lifted. “I don’t know that I want to spend a whole weekend with you.”

Ian took in the sight of her, from the determined tilt of her head to the bold fighter’s stance. “Look at it this way,” he whispered, “there’s a whole lot of bossing around you can do in two and a half days. We both know you’ll enjoy that.”

“But you won’t.”

“Wanna bet?” He had her flustered, not that he minded. Gently, he relieved her of the oil and bubble bath. She stayed there in the center aisle whilehe paid for their purchases. With the bagged items in one hand, he again drew her close and led her out the door.

The late afternoon sunshine glinted off her hair, highlighting the blue-black depths. When he started to lead her to his car, she again balked. “I have my car with me.”

“I thought we’d ride together.”

“No way. You said it yourself—I should be able to leave when I want to.”

She had him there. “All right. Would you like to follow me to my place, then?”

“Do you need to stop for groceries?”

Shaking his head, Ian said, “No. I have everything I need already at my apartment.”

She looked skeptical, but didn’t cavil. “All right. I am curious to try out these culinary skills of yours.”

“I promise you won’t be disappointed—in anything.” Silently, they walked to her car across the scorching pavement. Ian waited while she unlocked the door and rolled down the window to let in fresh air, then he said, “Erica?”

She dug her keys out of her purse, pretending to ignore him, which was absurd considering every line of her body bespoke her awareness. “Hmmm?”

“You’re going to enjoy yourself, you know.”

He’d meant to reassure her, but apparently he hit a hot button. She slanted a narrow-eyed look at him over her shoulder, then slowly turned to him in full battle mode. Her voice was low and mean and sarcastic. “Oh, I’ll enjoy myself all right. After all, I’ll have you at my beck and call, tending to my every whim … right?”

He loved her like this, all prickly like a hedgehog, full of feminine challenge. Because he couldn’t help himself, he smiled the tiniest bit. “Okay.”

His easy agreement only annoyed her more. Her mouth flattened and her brow beetled. “If I stay the whole weekend—”

She was staying, all right. One way or another, he’d make sure she did.

“—then prepare yourself, because you’ll be seeing the real me.”

Curiosity rose in tandem with anticipation. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t always look like this.” She indicated her face, hair, and chic clothing. “When I’m at home relaxing—my home or yours—I like to be comfortable. That means no makeup, no polite work manners. No frills.”

No clothes,
he silently added.
And even better than that, no inhibitions.

Ian’s smile widened though his voice remained infinitely gentle. “I have a very strong constitution, Erica. I think I can handle it.”

She glared at him a moment more, then dropped into her car and slammed the door. Through the open window, she growled, “Maybe you can and maybe you can’t. But make no mistake: you can not handle
me.”

He had a nice home. His apartment was on the third floor with an impressive balcony that looked out over a wooded back lot. A creek ran the length of the apartment complex, softly churning, housing a duck or two and surrounded by a multitude of flowers and birds and butterflies.

That’s my favorite part,” he mentioned when she went straight across the living room, past the kitchen to look out the double glass doors on the far end of his dining nook. He detoured into the kitchen, opened a few cabinets, ran a little water, and seconds later Erica felt him come up close behind her. His breath touched her ear. “I always wanted to make love on the balcony, late at night so no one would see. You can hear the creek and see the stars.”

Peeved at the idea of him sexually entwined with another woman, she said, “Yeah? So have you?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I never had the right woman here before.”

Erica’s brain froze.
Right woman?
Surely, he wasn’tsuggesting that
she
was the right woman? Never in her life had any man labeled her such.

But she had to admit, the idea of climbing atop that big muscular body with the fresh air surrounding them and the sounds of nature just beyond appealed to her too.

She shook herself. “Show me around your apartment.”

“All right.” His hand, like a burning brand, pressed at the small of her back. “Let’s start in the kitchen.”

Erica’s eyes glazed over at the expanse of tall cabinets, the enormous refrigerator, and high-tech stove. She wasn’t much of a cook herself, but she appreciated how functional a kitchen like his would be.

He’d set out two thick pork chops, a fat zucchini, and a plump ripe tomato. Her stomach rumbled; she might not enjoy cooking, but she definitely enjoyed eating, especially after a long day at work.

“It’s a hobby,” he explained. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Tea?” Erica found it somewhat amusing to watch a man as large as Ian move with such economic grace. He still wore his ragged jeans and sweaty work shirt, but he looked elegant in the kitchen, waiting on her.

He took a glass from the cabinet, filled it with ice from the automatic ice maker, and poured in a dark brewed tea. “Sugar or lemon?”

She shook her head and accepted the tea. He was full of surprises, she found. She couldn’t help but comment on the neatness of his home. “You have a cleaning lady?”

“It’s just me so I don’t need one.” He handed her a napkin and resumed the tour. “There’s only the living room and the little dining room here.”

Only
didn’t quite describe it. The room was large, with heavy masculine furniture and very little decoration other than a few framed prints on the wall and a scattering of family photos on a mantel over an electric fireplace. But still it looked very put together, and somehow homey and warm.

He flipped a switch and the fireplace lit up. “It doesn’t give off heat,” he explained, then continued down the hall. “My bathroom.”

Erica peeked into the wholly masculine domain. Done all in cream with a glass tub enclosure rather than a curtain, it was spotless at best, near barren at worst. Other than a toothbrush in the holder and an electric razor plugged in, there were no personal items about.

It smelled of Ian, of his aftershave and soap, and his own unique, earthy scent. Her heart did a little flip as she breathed in and accepted the now familiar reaction in her body. She loved his smell, so masculine and raw and … Ian.

She was still a little goggled when he took her hand, otherwise she might have protested. Having her hand engulfed in his much larger one made her feel small and weak—and she hated that. She made a habit of not letting men feel superior in any way. But Ian tugged her only as far as the next door.

“My spare room. I use it as an office since it isn’t really big enough for a bedroom.”

“You work at home?”

“No, but I prefer to keep things organized andthis way they are. I grew up with my father spreading the bills across the dining room table.” He shrugged. “I didn’t like that.”

Fascinated by this glimpse into Ian as a child, she turned to him. “I saw a bunch of pictures on your fireplace. Brothers and sisters?”

“Six. Three brothers, three sisters.” His grin went crooked, a little self-deprecating. “It’s not easy to make ends meet with that many mouths to feed, so my dad was forever fretting over the bills. It’s not easy to find your own space either. My brothers are slobs despite the way my mother kept at them. And my sisters have always collected knickknacks, so—”

“So you now relish your own place, which you can keep as you like it.” Erica hadn’t expected such an outpouring of personal confidences. Most of the men she knew clammed up if you asked anything even remotely private.

Ian proved to be very different from any other man she knew.

“That’s about it,” he said, and moved her farther down the hall. “This is my bedroom.” He pushed the door open and ushered her inside.

While Erica took in the king-size mattress, tall armoire, and long dresser, Ian crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

“What about you?”

She stepped farther into the room to explore. There was another set of glass doors that also opened onto the balcony. “What about me?”

“Any brothers and sisters?”

She halted in the process of smoothing her fingers across the plush, dark blue coverlet neatly spread over his bed. Ian’s hot gaze could be felt onher spine, in her heart. He was so intense sometimes that every fiber of her being was aware of his attention.

Fashioning a cavalier smile, she turned. “Naw, no siblings at all. Just me and my mother and whichever man she was with at the time.”

His brow rose. “Your mother’s boyfriends lived with you?”

Erica rolled her shoulder in a negligent shrug. Damn it, she hadn’t meant to say so much, but now that she had, she found talking about it more difficult than it should have been. “Mom often trusted the wrong guy, that’s all.”

He hadn’t moved. He still stood casually in the doorway, thick arms folded, ankles crossed. But suddenly he appeared more tense, more alert. “Wrong in what way?”

Feeling like a coward and blaming Ian for it, Erica strode to the glass doors. She tried to open them but they were locked and her fingers fumbled without success.

Big hands settled on her shoulders and a soft kiss touched her temple, setting her heart to a furious gallop.

They were in his bedroom, alone, and he’d just kissed her…

Without a word, Ian reached past her and opened the lock, then slid the door open. As soon as that was done, he again settled at her back, holding her loosely.

Erica didn’t move. Part of her immobility was caused by sheer enjoyment; she liked being this close to Ian. Her body liked it too, warming and softening in all the right places just because he touched her, because his scent surrounded her.

But she held still too, because she felt foolish. So far, Ian had managed to drag every unwanted emotion from her with little effort. She wouldn’t keep allowing that to happen. She
couldn’t
allow that to happen.

She reclosed the door. “Wrong in that she thought each of them was the love of her life.”

As if there’d been no awkward break in the conversation at all, Ian nodded. “Some people find that special person early in life, and others have to wait.”

She forced herself to move away from him. Keeping her gait casual, she retraced her steps to the kitchen. Ian followed. “What about you? Ever found that special someone?”

“No. You?”

She laughed. “I’m not at all convinced special people exist, at least not in a one-on-one-forever kind of way.”

“So cynical.” He pulled out a stool for her. “What about Becky and Asia? They’re your friends and I know they’re happily involved. You expect them to crash and burn?”

Why did he push her? She flipped her hair back and shrugged. “I don’t know. Their relationships are too new to tell.”

“George and Cameron would be crushed.”

She grinned. “No, they’d just give me hell and harass me and tell me to mind my own business.”

“You like them?”

“Sure. They’re good to Becky and Asia.” She felt compelled to add, “So far.”

Ian studied her a moment longer before shaking his head in an indulgent manner. “You want to keep me company while I cook?”

Erica had really expected him to jump her bones the minute they were alone in his apartment. She was mildly put out that he didn’t, and yet fascinated with all he shared. Hoping he’d share even more, she opted to stay close rather than set the tone by leaving him alone.

“Sure.” She started to seat herself, but was taken by surprise when he relieved her of her tea, set it on the counter, and then hefted her up to the bar stool.

Standing far too close, his hands still at her waist, he gave her a small grin and asked, “Comfy?”

His strength constantly amazed her—and turned her on. He’d lifted her as easily as he might have lifted a child. She cleared her throat. “Yeah.”

He continued to look down at her, to hold her and smile. Then he leaned down for a kiss.

Erica knew she should tell him no, that she should deny him or at least reprimand him for not following the dictate of their agreement, which meant she was the boss and he was the slave. She should pull back right now. Or better yet, if she waited until he almost kissed her, then he’d really … Wow. He tasted so incredibly good.

Without conscious volition, her hands crept to his wide, hard shoulders. His cotton work shirt was soft, and she could feel the flex and play of muscle and bone beneath. Her fingers dug in with an effort to get him closer. She opened her mouth and felt the brief foray of his damp, velvet tongue, and …

“Damn.” He straightened over her. “I forgot, I need to shower.”

Erica blinked, trying to bring herself back around. She’d been so lost in that hot, devouring kiss. All she really wanted at the moment was more—of thatkiss, of him, of how he made her feel, and his delicious, clean-sweat scent. She reached for him, but he shook his head.

“Sorry, honey. Shower first, then we can play all you want.” He turned to the stove—turned his back on her—and set a pot full of water on to boil.

Erica went rigid.

“I’m going to go ahead and get the food started, then jump in the shower. I promise I won’t be more than five minutes. That is”—he glanced over his shoulder and caught her fuming—“unless you want me to shave?”

Erica eyed the beard shadowing on his jaw, which made him look like a dark rogue. “No.” Damn it, her voice sounded like a croak again. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “You can shave later while I watch.”

Both his brows lifted. “A voyeur, huh?” He sounded vastly amused by that. “I’m game.”

“Of course you are,” she said through her teeth, “because I’m the boss, so whatever I say is okay with you.”

“Right.”

Within seconds he had the thick chops sizzling on the range-top griddle, set on low, and he started out of the room with the admonition, “Be good—at least until I get back.”

Annoyed more with herself than him, Erica snatched up her drink and went to the glass doors. At least this time she knew how to open them, so she sauntered outside, dropped into a padded chaise, and stretched out her legs.

The blazing sun had disappeared behind gray clouds without her realizing it, and the air smelled of an impending storm. She loved storms, foundthem sexy and energizing, and at the moment, they certainly matched her turbulent mood.

How could she teach Ian a lesson when all he had to do was look at her and she got tongue-tied?

The aroma of cooking pork drifted out to her, but she wasn’t about to tend to dinner, too. That wasn’t the deal, and she had to keep at least some part of the original bargain pure. She checked her wristwatch and saw it was six thirty-six. She’d give him the requisite five minutes he’d claimed, then she was leaving. And she’d have a legitimate excuse for walking out, too, given how he’d started things out.

A humid wind blew in, tangling her hair. Not that she cared. She turned her face up, closed her eyes, and tried to relax.

Not more than three minutes after that she heard Ian whistling in the kitchen. Ha. She wouldn’t move. Let him come outside and find her. She waited, but all she got was the sounds of food being diced and dishes being rattled.

She stubbornly kept her eyes closed and maintained her feigned position of comfort. In truth, she felt as wired as a ticking bomb waiting to go off.

Then gentle fingers touched her head, smoothed her windblown hair behind her ears, and drifted down her neck. She was aware of Ian crouching beside her, fresh from his shower, big and powerful and imposing.

He leaned closer to her, brushing his mouth over her cheekbone, her ear, down her throat. Tired?” he asked, in a voice low and rough and gentle.

Erica slanted her eyes open—and found herselfface-to-naked-chest with him. Stunned, she quickly straightened and looked at the rest of his body, but he had on jeans. Just jeans. Butter soft, well worn jeans that weren’t properly buttoned, likely due to his haste in getting back to the food. His bare feet were big and lean.

God, she was lusting over his feet.

She looked back at his body, at that strong abdomen, the impressive, muscular chest lightly covered in dark hair, and she wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or disappointed that he’d grabbed the damn jeans.

No words came. Ian shirtless was a sight to enjoy. He remained balanced on the balls of his feet, his arms draped loosely over his bent knees, his eyes direct, unflinching, watchful. His brown hair was damp, brushed straight back from his forehead, and he still had those sexy whiskers on his cheeks and chin. His eyes seemed bluer than ever, and as she absorbed his presence, he again came forward to kiss her.

She again let him.

It seemed she had no willpower around this one hunk of man. Somehow, she ended up lounged back with him caging her in, his mouth eating at hers, slow and deep and oh, so thorough. His whiskers rasped her delicate skin, but gently, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.