They sat on the sofa, side by side, Ethan’s arm casually on her shoulders, his hand, undemanding, caressing her bare arm.
“I love Pollock and Francis Bacon,” she said, looking at the paintings hanging on the wall. “They’re among my favorite painters.”
“Mine, too.” He made small talk about art, waiting for her to finish her coffee and put her cup and saucer on the center table beside his.
The second she sat back beside him, he shifted on the sofa and his hands framed her face. “Sophia.”
Oh, God. Time to face the beast. Or rather the beauty. She crushed the hysterical nervous laugh that threatened to escape.
Sophia looked up and stared into his eyes. They were charged with a potent hunger. She parted her lips and wetted them with the tip of her tongue.
He groaned with desire and his mouth descended on hers as he ran his hands down the sides of her body, searching for the edge of her dress.
Her hands dipped into his hair, feeling its soft texture.
His lips were insistent and his tongue, thrusting in her mouth, danced with hers. His beard was soft and pleasant to the touch. He nibbled her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. His hand wandered up her thigh until his thumb found her panties.
She moaned in his mouth and arched on his hard chest, her nipples aching for skin contact.
“Let me love you, Sophia.” His azure eyes blazed with passion.
She was so nervous and confused, she just nodded. Am I doing the right thing?
He rose and held out his hand to her. “Come.”
We’ve been going out for more than four months. I have resisted long enough. I have to move on. She put her hand in his and stood up, giving him the permission he sought.
His rooms occupied most of the second floor. They were white, glass, and steel, as the rest of his home. Spectacular contemporary paintings and sculptures gave color to the rooms. An office, a bedroom, and an adjoining sitting room made up his quarters.
He stopped in front of the bed. The linens were turned down.
Sophia noticed a bottle of champagne cooling in a silver bucket with two crystal glasses on the center table in the sitting room. She smiled; he had everything prepared previously.
“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she whispered.
I wish. “Yes, I am.” He dragged her into his embrace, kissing her passionately as his hand unfastened her black belt and flung it on the armchair in the sitting room, without even looking that way.
Her hand stopped him as he started to unzip her dress.
“What is it?” he asked gently.
She bit her lower lip, unsure. “I didn’t tell you. I have ugly scars on my arm. I was shot once.”
“Hush.” He took off her dress, letting it fall to the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Immediately, his hands went to her breasts, gently kneading them. “Beautiful. Perfect.”
His eyes wandered over her body, taking note of the scar. He smiled naughtily when he noticed her dark red and gold lace panties. One of his hands went down and cupped her as his mouth latched onto a nipple, sucking it into his mouth. Her head fell backward and she tangled her hands in his brown, sun-kissed hair.
“Undress me,” he ordered.
Her trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, opened them and tentatively touched his chest and felt soft chest hairs.
He was muscular and well-shaped.
She felt bold and tried to free him of the shirt, but his hands were busy elsewhere. She moaned when she felt his fingers going inside her panties to tease her. She undid his belt and lowered his zipper, then pushed his trousers down and they fell to his ankles.
He toed his shoes off and stepped on his trousers to take them off. He ripped off his shirt and looked at her, his eyes burning. “Touch me.”
Her hands went to his chest.
“No.” His voice rumbled deep in his chest. He took off his underwear and socks. Covering her hand with his, he placed her hand on his rigid shaft, stroking himself. His other hand circled her nape, pulling her to a scorching kiss.
Unfamiliar with his way of making love, she felt unsure of what to do.
“Tighter, faster,” he demanded with labored breath, distributing kisses on her throat and her shoulder.
Sophia gasped and shifted to take off her black velvet high-heels but he halted her.
“Leave them on,” he said in a husky voice.
He smiled against her skin and trailed to her breast, sucking and softly rasping his teeth on her nipple, “You’re delicious. I want to taste you. All of you.”
He directed her to lie on the pillows and he knelt down at the end of the bed, snatching her panties away. He took hold of her ankles and opened her legs, setting his large shoulders between them. His mouth moved over her soft stomach, his hands ran over her legs.
She moaned low as he made his descent to her core.
He lapped at her, once, twice, teasing, as if waiting for a reaction. When she grabbed his hair, he grinned and latched his mouth, sucking her. She spoke his name in a gasp. And he entered her with his tongue, licking.
She feels so good, so soft. Her thighs were silk against his hands. She was liquid heat against his mouth. He could hear her choppy breaths.
“Oh, please, Ethan.” Writhing on the bed, her hips undulated.
It had been too long since her last time and she was straining to keep her climax at bay.
He rose over her, kissing her breast as a blind hand searched for a condom in the drawer of the bedside table. He sheathed himself and rocked his body in between her thighs. “Not yet. I want to see you burning.”
He nipped her earlobe and rimmed the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. He kissed his way down to her neck and throat.
She jerked beneath him and moved her hips, trying to ease the pressure building inside her.
He moved to her shoulders, kissing and lapping.
Her fingers clung to his upper arms, needing some support, as his mouth found her breast. Lightning shot through her and she gasped out loud, arching her back.
“I. Am. Burning,” she pleaded.
He didn’t answer, his mouth busy now with the other breast. His fingers moved to find her slit and he entered her deep with two long fingers. In and out, his fingers teased her. His thumb pressed her clitoris.
Her hands entwined in his hair and she yanked his head up to gaze desperately at him. “In. Flames!”
He smiled hungrily and braced himself on each side of her head. He thrust shallowly, but slowly and steadily, torturing her. In a bit, out some more, until he was fully inside her. Hip to hip, no space between them.
She clutched his hair to pull his head down for a kiss.
What started slowly grew into a crescendo, as he began to move faster and she joined him, matching his tempo.
“Come for me,” he commanded, kissing her hard. He felt she was near. Her nails scorched his back and her heels dug into his buttocks. “Yes, baby.”
Sophia opened her eyes to look at his flashing azure eyes.
“Ethan.” She threw her head back and cried out as he took her over the edge, falling limp on the pillows as a wave of ecstasy washed over her, hugging him tightly inside her, the ripple extracting a deep groan from his throat. She felt him move fiercely once more, saying her name huskily, poised still above and inside her, his pleasure so strong it pulsated through her.
He rolled to his side; rose on one elbow and with a shaking hand combed her splayed hair.
“You will be the ruin of me, Sophia,” he rasped, and placed a light kiss on her shoulder.
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Couldn’t even open her eyes. Her world was spinning.
“Sophia?” His hand cupped her face and turned it to him.
Her eyes fluttered open; the honey color transformed now to a yellow-diamond color. “Need a minute.”
He trapped her in his arms. “Sleep with me tonight. You don’t have to work tomorrow.”
> “Hmm?” She tried to make some sense of his words. She raised her head a bit from his chest. “Your heart is beating too fast.”
She smiled at him, her wondrous eyes shining and he felt a warmth inside that had nothing to do with lust. “Stay with me. It’s late.”
“I don’t do sleepovers, Ethan.”
“Pardon?” He looked astonished. A woman that doesn’t want to stay overnight? With me?
“I only sleep alone,” she smiled, apologetic.
“Why?” he asked baffled.
She shrugged. “Because.” Because of Gabriela. And because of my nightmares.
“Please.” He caressed her hair, twisting a lock between his fingers. “I’ve never asked a woman to stay with me. I really wish you would stay, Sophia.”
“All right. I have to go home before midday tomorrow,” she acquiesced. “Oh…I don’t have anything with me. Do you have a toothbrush?”
“Yeah. And clothes won’t be a problem.” He stood up, picked up his BlackBerry from his jeans on the floor, and started texting. He entered his walk-in closet and his bathroom.
Clothes? What for? She rose from the bed, toeing off her high-heels and gathering her clothes. When he exited the closet in pajama shorts, still texting, she asked surprised, “What are you doing?”
“Informing my secretary what I want him to buy for you.” He raised his eyes to take a good look at her body.
What? “At this time of night?” Buy for me?
“Sophia, I pay him quite well. He works twenty-four-seven,” he said dismissively. “What is your shoe size?”
“I don’t need shoes. In fact, there is no need for clothes. I can return home in mine.”
He frowned at her. “You’re not going home wearing this dress and high-heels. What size?”
“Er…really, Ethan.” God!
“Aren’t you aggravating?” he grumbled and his demeanor suddenly darkened. “Do you want to arrive at home looking like a whore?”
Sophia flinched and paled. “I think I should I go home now, Ethan.”
You idiot. You offended the woman. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Please, stay,” he hastily apologized and repeated, “I’ve never asked a woman to stay with me, Sophia. It’s always the other way round. Please accept my apology.”
Almost two years since I have slept with a man. Should I indulge? Could I? “All right. I will stay.”
“Shoe size?”
“Er…eight for shoes and eight and a half for boots…UK size.” Sophia eyed him closely wondering if she was doing the right thing. “Sneakers would do.” How would I explain it to Gabriela? But is it fair not to live a normal life? I have to live a normal life so she understands what life is made of.
“Sneakers?” He made a face at her but she was so engrossed in her musings that she didn’t notice it. “Do you want a shirt, baby? Sophia?”
Oh, damn. Stop this, Sophia. “I just want a toothbrush.” She smiled mischievously at him. “If you don’t mind, I sleep in the nude.”
“I don’t mind at all.” He laughed and pulled her into his arms, kissing her tenderly. He sighed. “Oh, Sophia. There is something special about you…”
Gabriela will understand. She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled at him. And I’m sure he’ll like her too.
“Tomorrow, I’ll drive you home.” He kissed her lips, and grabbing her hand, towed her into the bathroom. He gave her a new toothbrush and toothpaste he had retrieved from a drawer and left the room, closing the door.
Just don’t make hasty decisions, Sophia. Step by step. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. First make sure you’re safe and that he is on your side. Then you can tell him who you are. And only then you’ll introduce Gabriela.
She sighed at her own reflection and shook her head at the mess that was her life.
Chapter 5
When Sophia re-entered the bedroom, there was no sign of the condom he had flung on the floor.
Ethan was sitting on the sofa, holding two flutes of champagne. After they toasted and drank, he took her to bed and pulled her into the circle of his arms.
An emotion Ethan didn’t recognize unfurled in his chest. And then, he knew it would be her for him, forever.
After thirty-five years of waiting I’ve found my other half. She will be mine. My Sophia. Forever. Come hell or high water. He shook his head, scared. “You don’t know what you have done to me, Sophia.”
A frightening scream shattered the air, waking Ethan.
He switched on the lamp on the bedside table. Sophia, on the other side of the bed, clutched her scarred arm and moaned, as if in pain. Her head thrashed on the pillow and she spoke incoherently in a language he couldn’t identify.
“Nooooo!” she cried hoarsely, chilling Ethan as her pained voice laced the room.
Jesus! He shook her by the shoulders. “Sophia! Sophia, wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”
She opened troubled eyes and looked around, confused. Her gaze fixed on his face and her breath whooshed from her. She put her hands on her face, heaving.
After a minute, she let her hands fall.
“I’m sorry.” She pushed up on the bed and rested on the headboard, eyes closed. “That is the reason I don’t do sleepovers, Ethan.” Her voice was shaky. “I have nightmares. Terrible nightmares. I’ll be right back.” She left the bed, crossed the room and entered the bathroom. Will they never leave me alone?
She twisted her hair and made a loose bun. Cupping the water, she wet her wrists, face, and back of her neck.
Don’t look in the mirror, don’t look in the mirror. She knew what she would see. Big, spooky, dark-brown eyes and white lips on an ashen face. They were neither her eyes, nor her features. They belonged to a ghost, not to her.
Sophia heard a knock and she turned. Ethan leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching her with worried eyes. “Everything okay?”
“No,” she grimaced, “but it will be.”
“Want some port? Or a whisky?” He stepped into the bathroom, thoughtfully. “Here.” He put a white cotton shirt beside her on the sink. “I’ll wait for you in the sitting room.”
“Wait.” She gripped his wrist and stared at him, her eyes troubled. Get a grip, Sophia. You’re going to frighten the man away on the first night. She let go of his hand. “It’s okay. I’ll be…”
He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist, his head dropping to her neck. “I’m here,” he whispered near her ear. “Come on.”
He dressed her with the shirt, which fell to the middle of her thighs.
“I like you in my shirt.” He smiled at her, leading her to the sofa. He retrieved a bottle of port from a small bar under the bookshelf. He looked at her and motioned to the opened champagne bottle, “Or perhaps you want the champagne?”
So attentive, Ethan. She gave him a small smile. “I prefer the port.”
“Tell me about the dream.” He handed her the crystal glass and sat beside her, an arm on her shoulder, pulling her to him.
“It wasn’t a dream.” She shook her head and sipped her wine. “And I don’t talk about it.”
“How were you shot?” He tried again.
“Ethan, please, let it be. It’s a very sore issue.” For the first time, she looked around; taking in the stylish sitting room with its paintings and books gracing the walls.
She put her glass on the side table and rose from the sofa to examine the bookshelves.
“We do have similar tastes,” she smiled at him over her shoulder.
He finished his wine and approached her from behind and spoke in her ear, “I knew you were perfect for me from the minute I spotted you.” He bit her earlobe, his hand lifting the hem of the shirt to find her hip, stroking it. “Come to bed. I’ll make you forget your dream.”
Saturday, January 16, 2010
10:00 a.m.
Sophia opened her eyes to find Ethan seated on the edge of the bed looking at her, a mug in h
is hand, and his hair damp from a shower. He was dressed in faded jeans and a blue turtleneck sweater that did wonders for his eyes.
“I could go for hours just looking at you.”
She stretched, raising her arms above her head and entwining them; the sheets moved, showing a breast. She smiled at him. “Good morning.”
Ethan put his mug on the bedside table. “Do that again and you’re not getting out of this bed, Ms. Santo.”
Sophia grinned wickedly and stretched again, this time writhing her body, sheets bunching at her waist.
“Vixen.” Ethan bent to kiss her but she rolled to the other side of the bed and jumped away to the bathroom.
“Don’t move,” she ordered. “I’ll be right back.”
When she emerged from the bathroom, he was in the same place, an amused twist on his lips.
“Good boy.” She smiled and picked up his mug, smelling it. “Mmm!”
She raised her brows to him and drank his coffee.
He smiled at her impudent gesture.
Tugging him from the bed by the sweater, she commanded, “Take it off.”
“You like to give orders, huh?”
“Sometimes.” She smiled and quirked an eyebrow. “Do you know how to obey?”
“Sometimes,” he replied, and took off his sweater.
“Let’s see.” She perched on the end of the bed, tapping her index finger on her lips, admiring his muscles as he moved.
“Now what, Ms. Santo?”
She looked at the bulge in his jeans and smiled. “Jeans. Off.”
He peeled off his jeans, amused, and threw them on the armchair.
“Briefs. Off!” Her eyes gleamed and she bit her lip.
He took off his briefs and stood proudly in front of her. He knew he had a great figure.
With her finger, Sophia motioned for him to make a complete turn.
“Do you approve?” he asked huskily.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Ashford, I do!” Sophia rose from the bed and circled him, her fingers tracing his chest and his shoulder. She ran her hands over his arms and his buttocks without touching his straining erection.
“A fine specimen,” she teased. She pinched his chin, lowering his head a bit to better look at his eyes. He hadn’t touched her and she was already turned on. “A very fine specimen.”