AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Don’t...stop,” I choked out, and he moved, his first thrust so powerful it shoved me deeper into the cushions. And then again, and again, as his rhythm grew fluid and I arched up to meet him, my natural instincts taking over. I knew how to do this, and yet somehow everything felt new and different, with the darkness all around us and only Ian alone with me, claiming me, owning me in ways I’d never thought I wanted. It no longer mattered what lay between us—he was elemental, eternal, and rational thought had deserted me.
I could barely see him in the darkness, so I reached up and cupped his face with my hands, needing to touch him everywhere. He kissed me with hot, devouring kisses, and the tension inside me rose, until I was so close to exploding.
He fucked me in cool, determined silence, and I wanted to scream with pleasure and despair, as he moved faster, harder inside me, and I was about to lose it completely when he moved his hand between our surging bodies and touched me, so deftly, so purposefully, and for the first time in my life, I screamed as I came, as I felt him grow and expand inside of me and I realized he hadn’t worn a condom.
And I was stupidly glad. I was his, he’d claimed me, and I’d wanted nothing between us.
I slowly drifted back to a breathless reality, calling myself all sorts of a fool, calling him all sorts of a villain. He pulled out of me, and I felt bereft, but a moment later, I was in his arms and he was carrying me through the inky black apartment to the wide expanse of a bed. I thought he was going to leave me alone, but a moment later, he was back a damp towel to wash me off. He finished stripping off the last of his clothes, all without saying a word, and then lay down beside me, pulling me into his arms, tucking me against him.
When he spoke it was depressingly prosaic. “I didn’t wear a condom.”
“I know. Don’t worry about it—I take care of myself.”
“I’ve never forgotten before,” he said, his voice unreadable in the stillness. Was it self-disgust, surprise, or something else?
“You’re safe from me,” I said dryly, knowing I should pull away. So, we were having the awkward morning-after talk and it wasn’t even morning.
“I wish,” he muttered. “You’re the most dangerous woman I know.”
I wasn’t. Bella was, and I’d just had sex with Ian while pretending I was someone else. I wanted to curl up in shame. I certainly hadn’t deserved the best orgasm of my life.
Guilt erupted in me. “I need to tell you...” I began, determined, but he stopped my mouth with his.
“Don’t tell me anything,” he growled when he lifted his head. “Just feel.”
He was growing hard again, to my amazement, and I was growing aroused. In fact, despite the power of my release, I’d stayed minutely attuned to his body and his touch, the way he made me feel.
He was right—this was no place for confession. I’d tell him tomorrow when we were both fully clothed and he could yell at me all he wanted.
I would take tonight, what little there was left of it, I would take everything I could from Ian, and give him everything in return. Tomorrow, when I told him the truth, he could throw it back in my face, but I would still have the memory, the pain and pleasure of it. It would have to do.
Chapter Seventeen
I woke up in my own bed with the oddest sensation suffusing my body. Something was devastatingly wrong, and something was so very right. I lay still, and let the memories wash over me. Granda was dead. And I had had sex with Ian the Wretch.
Guilt washed over me. He’d thought I was Bella, cool, manipulative Bella, who hadn’t a vulnerable bone in her body. Instead, it was soft-hearted Podge, blindly seeking comfort from the one person she trusted. And it was true—I trusted Ian, even if he despised me, or was it Bella he despised? It was both of us, two liars who’d played him for a fool. When I told him the truth, he would never forgive me.
But did I need to tell him the truth? What kind of difference would it make in the long run? I’d be gone and it would be up to Bella to explain what we’d done. I’d gone past the point of berating myself for my stupidity—now I was having to learn to live with the incredible mess I’d made.
I barely remembered Ian carrying me back here. I’d been so tired, so awash in emotions that I hadn’t paid attention as he tucked me into bed. As a lover he was...formidable.
After last night, all I could think of was his long, muscled body, the smell of his skin, the texture of the hair on his legs, the taste of him in my mouth, the marks he’d left on my body. Even Bella’s million-dollar makeup couldn’t cover up all traces of our night together.
The first thing I did was take a shower to try to wash away the haze that still clung to me. Today would be a tough day, even if I hadn’t made the abysmal mistake of going to bed with my vaunted enemy. Granda was gone, and I had spent the night in ecstasy. Ian had been right about everything he’d said about me—I was a liar and a cheat.
I flopped back down the bed, wrapped only in a towel. I had no right to mourn the man I’d been lying to, and I lay there, silent and dry-eyed, staring into the shadows. At last, I could leave. Ian would be hating me after last night’s weakness—he would probably prefer it if I weren’t around for the funeral, and what would Bella do? Probably skip it to go shopping.
Paris awaited me, and I was now free of any obligation. I’d done what I’d promised Bella, I’d had my time with Granda. Even if my tears had finally dried up, they would emerge again, once I was safely back in the States and trying to resurrect my old life.
Why had I ever listened to Bella? She’d caught me at a vulnerable time, missing my family, but I’d been a fool to say yes. It had been so long since I’d seen Granda—my grief would have been sincere but not so intense if he’d simply stayed a memory. Now everything I’d loved and hated about him had come back, and I couldn’t view his passing with anything close to equanimity. It didn’t matter that he'd live a long life and was ready to go. I hadn’t been ready to lose him.
And I hadn’t needed to realize how I felt about Ian the Wretch. Except it hadn’t been his wretchedness that had called to me, it was his rare, undeniable sweetness. But that sweetness was for someone else, not the real Bella, not the lying Podge. We were miles apart, and always would be.
I needed to go home and lick my wounds—even the idea of Paris couldn’t cheer me. All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry, and the night in Ian’s bed had denied me that option. The best I could do was run.
It didn’t take me long to pack. I left the accoutrements of Bella’s life in the closet—silk jumpsuits and cocktail dresses, tailored suits and thousand-dollar jeans. Instead, I made do with the sundresses and sandals I’d purchased in town. I applied the makeup carefully, making my last be the best, and I went downstairs in one of Bella’s less garish day dresses, the only one in a relatively sober shade of blue.
Mary Alice and Valerie were sitting in the women’s salon, Mary Alice stretched out on my chaise with a pale hand held to her forehead, the remains of a hearty lunch on the coffee table beside her. When she heard me come in, she lowered her hand to look at me balefully.
