“It’s not that easy. I mean, when I joined the FBI, I wanted to understand why he did it. It’s been fourteen years and I still want to understand. What went wrong? What happened to him that he just broke wide open like that?” The idea that I’ll never know, that I’ll never understand, haunts me like few things ever have.
“That’s why you write the books you do, isn’t it? It’s not about Jason, it’s about all of them. You want to know what went wrong deep inside everyone you’ve ever written about.”
I nod. “That’s exactly what I want. It’s what I looked for in every case I ever worked for the FBI. Because if I know what went wrong, then—”
“You’ll know how to make sure it doesn’t go wrong in you.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“And did you always find the answer?”
“Not always. I usually did, but sometimes there is no answer.”
“Sometimes there isn’t. Sometimes people just do bad things because they want to. Because they enjoy it. Sometimes there’s not anything more to it than that.”
“I’ve never been able to accept that.”
“Of course you haven’t.” The smile she gives me now is as sad as it is sexy. “You wouldn’t be who you are if you accepted that fact, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do what you do.” The smile she gives me now is a little sad and a little sexy all at the same time. “I’m not sure what it says about me, but the fact that you can’t is turning out to be just one of the many reasons I’m falling for you.”
Chapter 24
The second the words are out, I wish I could take them back. For a second, I squeeze my eyes shut and pretend that this isn’t happening. That I didn’t just tell Ian that I have feelings for him right after he told me about his homicidal brother, barely an hour after I scratched him all to hell.
And to think, I’m actually known for my perfect timing on screen.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just kind of looks at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Not that I blame him. We’re barely five days into this and suddenly I’m talking about falling for him? After I’ve kicked him out of my house, refused to let him interview me, played every game in the book with him, and then asked him to help me anyway, after I all but lost my mind on him? He’s probably wondering what it’d be like if I actually hated him if this is what me caring about him feels like.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says and my heart sinks.
“Please, don’t apologize. I don’t know what I was thinking. Blame it on the meltdown. Or the fact that it’s five in the morning and we haven’t slept. Or the orgasms. Yes, blame it on them. Is it any wonder a girl gets a little wonky after you give her a dozen orgasms?”
Oh my God. Oh my God, Ohmygod, OHMYGOD.
I shut my mouth with a snap, then lock my jaw in an effort to ensure that I never say anything again. Ever. Who is this woman who’s suddenly invaded my body? And can the real Veronica Romero please stand the fuck up?
Ian’s still not saying anything, which to be fair could be because I just sucked up all the oxygen in the room with my babbling. Or it’s because he’s changed his mind about my mental stability and is busy plotting his escape. Either way, his silence can’t be good. But when I finally get up the nerve to look back at him, Ian is just watching me with amused eyes and a smug smirk on his face that is somehow way more attractive than it should be.
For a while anyway, and then it just gets annoying as he continues to stare without saying anything.
“What?” I finally demand, when I can’t take the suspense any longer.
He shakes his head, and somehow looks even more amused despite everything that’s been revealed tonight. “Did you really just suggest that you get ‘wonky’ if you have enough orgasms? Because if so, I’m going to take it as a personal mission to ensure that you always—”
I grab one of the throw pillows on the sofa and hit him over the head with it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Then I stand up, start to shift away from him. But I’m barely on my feet before he’s grabbing me and rolling with me onto the floor.
It’s such an unexpected move that I go with it instinctively, laughing a little as he settles himself on top of me. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” he says right before he kisses my nose.
“And you are impossibly unattractive when you’re smug.”
“Oh yeah?” He brushes the back of his hand over my nipple. Over my very hard, very aroused nipple. “So this is what happens when you think I’m unattractive?”
I’m too busy arching into his touch to answer. I’m not used to this side of Ian. Relaxed. Playful. Open. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like it. Then again, I’m beginning to think there isn’t much about Ian that I don’t like.
Chapter 25
There is so much we need to talk about. So much I need to tell her, including the fact that I’m falling for her, too. No, not falling. I’ve already fallen. Hard.
But she’s right here beneath me, her beautiful body stretched out and arching against me and all I can think about is kissing her. Fucking her. Making her come again and again and again.
I’m going to do it right this time, though, going to take care of Veronica the way she so desperately needs to be taken care of. Softly. Gently. Tenderly.
With that thought in mind, I push myself out of her arms. She moans, tries to grab on to me, but I’ve got more planned for her—for us—than a quick fuck on the family room floor. Not now. Not this time.
She whimpers as I push to my feet, and I murmur softly to her as I bend down and pick her up. Nonsense words. Soothing words. Sweet nothings that are meaningless on their own, but together provide the reassurance that she craves.
That we both crave.
Once I’ve got her in my arms, she wiggles until she’s wrapped around me like a limpet—her arms around my neck, her legs around my hips. She fits perfectly, like she was made to be there. Her breasts soft against my chest, her sex so warm and wet against my cock that I can feel her even through the fabric of my pants.
I pull her closer still, twine my arms around her waist and slide my hands down to cup her ass as I stumble toward the hallway. “Where’s your room, love?” I whisper in her ear.
I want to stretch her out on her bed, to kiss and lick and worship her body the way she deserves to be worshipped.
But she shakes her head, says, “Not my room,” even as her hips rock desperately against mine.
Every cell in my body is screaming for me to take her, to bury myself so deep inside of her that nothing will ever tear us apart. But her words pull me up short and I lean back so I can see her face. So that I can make sure she wants this as much as I do.
So that I can make sure that she’s okay.
She is, her face soft and aroused and needy, so needy that just looking at her sends a shock of heat through every part of me. But there’s a vulnerability there, too, one I haven’t seen before, and it makes me desperate to give her whatever she wants. Desperate to make her as happy, as content, as satisfied as I can.
With that thought in mind, I press my lips softly to hers, then revel in how easily her mouth opens under mine.
In how she licks her way inside my mouth and tangles her tongue with mine.
In how she sucks my lip between her teeth and bites down gently.
—
We stay like that for long seconds that turn into longer, more languorous minutes. And in this moment—in this kiss—she is the aggressor. She is the one who takes me, the one who licks and nips and nuzzles and bites at my mouth until I am lost in the pleasure of it all. Until I am lost in her completely. I’m breathless when she finally pulls back. My knees weak. My body trembling with want. My whole being aching with need.
She does it so easily. Makes me crave her like a junkie with an open, aching vein. Like an addict lost forever to the soul-searing pleasure of her sensuality.
“Where do you want me to take you, baby? Where do you
want me to love you?” The word slips out, but I’m not sorry I said it. Any more than I’m sorry she heard it. How can I be when her body trembles so beautifully against mine?
She waves a hand behind her, gestures to the French doors that lead to the patio.
“Outside?” I ask even as I move that way. “You want me to make love to you outside?”
“Mhmmm.” The sound is muffled against my neck and I wait for Veronica to confirm, but she’s too busy licking her way up my throat to say anything else.
And just that easily, I go up in flames.
Holding her against me with one hand, I fumble for the door handle with the other. When I find it, I shove it open and the two of us nearly tumble out onto the cold cement of the patio.
I catch myself—catch us—in time, and instead tumble her straight onto the double chaise lounge that’s only a few feet from the door.
She lays back on it as soon as her ass connects with the fabric, spreading her legs in obvious invitation as she looks up at me through heavy-lidded eyes. And when she lifts her hand to her mouth, when she circles her crazy, perfect, million dollar mouth with one merlot-tipped finger, it’s all I can do not to fall on her like an animal.
How does she do this to me? I wonder as I sink to my knees beside her. How the fuck does she make me this crazy, this fast? I’ve spent my whole life trying to be more than this, trying to fight my baser instincts, and all it takes is one taste, one touch, one look from her and I forget everything but being inside of her.
“Ian!” My name is a broken cry on her lips, one that shoots straight to my screaming cock and has me clawing for a control that I know I won’t find. “Please, I need you. I need—” Her voice breaks, her body moving restlessly against the dark fabric of the chaise lounge.
I grit my teeth, force myself to hold back when all I want is to fall on her like a starving man. “Soon, baby. Just let me—”
“Now,” she says, tangling one hand in my hair as she tries to pull me over her. “I need you now.”
She’s bucking against me, her back arching, her full breasts pushing against the thin, transparent cups of her fuck-me red bra and it’s making me insane. She’s beautiful—so goddamned, heartrendingly beautiful—that I can barely breathe, barely think.
I reach a hand out, stroke my fingers gently down her throat. She cries out, her hand coming to rest over mine as she drags my hand over her collarbone and down the slope of her breast to the tip of her velvety hard nipple. My fingers tighten of their own volition, and I pinch hard enough to make it sting. Hard enough to have her nails digging into the back of my hand. More than hard enough to have her crying out as her whole body bows off the lounger.
“Ian, please,” she gasps out. “Please. Do it. Do—” Her voice breaks again.
I wanted to go slow, wanted to draw this out until she was drowning in the tenderness I have inside myself for her. Wanted to stoke the flames inside of her slowly, slowly, slowly. After all, it’s only been a couple days since I first made love to her on that kitchen table. Since I had to coax her body—and her mind—into responding to me.
There is no coaxing tonight, and there is no slowness. Not when Veronica is so restless, so tortured, so goddamn aroused. I struggle to at least hold on to the tenderness. But it’s hard, so hard, when she’s pushing me, responding to me, begging me to take her. To fuck her. To do anything and everything I want to her.
Just the thought sparks an erotic montage in my head, a rush of thougths and images that flash through my mind so fast I can barely register them all.
Veronica on her hands and knees in front of me while I plunge into her from behind.
Veronica spread out in front of me like an offering, her hands bound above her head as I wring every drop of pleasure I can from her body.
Veronica screaming, her hands tangled in my hair as I thrust my tongue deep inside her pussy.
“Ian!” This time when she calls my name, it’s almost a scream. Desperate, keening, half strangled with desire and it pushes me over the edge I’ve been clinging to for what feels like forever.
I push her down on the lounge, then climb above her, kneeing her legs open even as I fumble my tie off my neck. Then I’m reaching for her wrists, pinning them together as I wrap my tie around them.
When her wrists are secure, I lift them above her head and lean over to fasten the ends of my tie to the top of the chaise lounge frame. As I do, Veronica rears up and sinks her teeth into my pec hard enough to leave a bruise.
And just that easily, I lose control.
“You’ll pay for that,” I growl as I reach down and tear her delicate red silk panties to shreds. Then I’m plunging three fingers inside of her without warning, scissoring them back and forth over her G-spot with a single-minded intentness that makes her come in under ten seconds.
She moans my name as I stroke her through her orgasm, her hips riding my hand as she comes and comes and comes.
Her eyes are closed, her head thrashing back and forth against the back of the lounge as pleasure continues to crash through her. And still it’s not enough for me. Still I want more of her, need more of her.
My whole body is on fire, my legs shaking, my cock aching, my breath coming in short, harsh pants. But I’m not ready to end it, not ready to release her—or myself—from the agony of pleasure that threatens to consume us both.
Instead, I start to take her back up again, only seconds after her body has stopped convulsing around me. Deep inside her I snap my fingers against each other, even as I firmly circle her clit with my thumb.
She gasps, moans, her hips rocking weakly against me as her body responds despite the orgasm she just had. “Ian, stop,” she cries out after a minute. “Either fuck me or untie me!”
I keep up the stimulation, building the need—and the pleasure—with each stroke of my fingers. “I don’t really think you’re in the position to give orders, Veronica.” I pinch her clit in warning.
She screams then, a low, strangled cry that shoots straight down the length of my cock. “When you let me go—”
“Who says I’m going to let you go?” I taunt as I bring my other hand to her breast and twist her nipple just hard enough to sting. “Maybe I’ll keep you here, tied up for days. I’ll come to you in the morning, while you’re still sleeping, and ease you into orgasm so the first thing you thnk about, the first thing you feel when you wake up is me.”
She moans, her hips once again bucking against my hand. “I’ll come back at noon, slip my tongue inside your pussy, slide a finger or two into your ass.”
I move my thumb down to stroke her there, to taunt her with the pleasure of it. “I’ll stroke you and eat you and fuck you with my mouth until you scream my name. Then I’ll do it all over again.”
“Ian. Ian. Ian.” My name is a mindless chant on her lips now, a breathless mantra that has my throat going dry and my dick throbbing for relief.
She’s twisting beneath me, her lithe, agile body trembling with strain as dawn slowly creeps across the sky. A drop of sweat rolls slowly down her chest and belly, pooling invitingly in her navel. I lean forward, lick it off. Then clench my teeth until my jaw nearly pops as she tightens around my fingers.
I swallow tightly, struggling to speak over the need tearing at me with razor-sharp claws. “I’ll come to you in the evening, just as night crawls across the sky. I’ll spend hours playing with these beautiful nipples of yours.” I squeeze one again, just to feel her shudder beneath me. Around me. Just to watch how those gorgeous violet eyes of hers slide out of focus.
“Then I’ll turn you over and spank your sexy little ass.” I deliver a sharp slap to her hip to emphasize my words. “I’ll fuck you there, where you’re so tight and hot.” I twist my fingers inside of her, reveling in the way her whole body tightens around me. “I’ll make you come again and again, just to watch the way your skin flushes. Just to hear the little sounds you make. Just to—”
I break off as she comes again, her body
nearly shaking apart as she cries out my name.
The sound—all low and breathless and needy—shatters he last vestiges of my control. Desperately, I unbutton my pants and sheath myself in a condom. Then I’m climbing over her, still fully dressed, and thrusting myself inside of her.
She comes one more time, her body shaking and arching and clenching against mine. Pulling me deeper, holding me tighter, sending bolts of pleasure crashing through me. Five thrusts, maybe six, and I’m joining her, my body blasting like a freight train before I can even think about trying to control it.
Cock throbbing, pleasure building at the base of my spine and shooting forward, I empty myself inside of her, giving Veronica more than I’d ever planned to. Giving her everything that I have, everything that I am.
And then I do it again.
I fuck her over and over and over, from the early-morning chill straight into the warmth of the early afternoon sunlight.
I fuck her until we’re both sore and exhausted and bruised.
I fuck her until neither of us know where she ends and I begin.
And then I fuck her again.
When it’s finally over, when the first vestiges of sanity slowly return to me, I collapse on top of Veronica. She tangles her legs with mine and curls her body into me.
It’s not enough. I reach up and fumble her free of the tie that bound her for so many hours. Only then, when we’re on our sides with her arms wrapped tightly around me, do I finally let go and sleep.
Chapter 26
Ian is beautiful when he sleeps. All the stress and strain and guilt he carries with him when he’s awake just seems to melt away and he’s left looking almost carefree. Mouth soft, face relaxed, body unguarded. It’s an even better look for him than smug asshole and I feel myself responding despite the fact that there isn’t a muscle in my body that doesn’t feel the strain of last night’s lovemaking.