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Chapter Eleven
The impudent question flipped some kind of switch in Ian’s brain. He forgot about the rescue and the reporters and his screwed up life. All he could think about was Bella. How soft she was. How she smelled like roses in springtime. The amazing way her mind worked. The wonder of nature that was her feminine, curvy body.
Her skin was cool beneath his fingertips, maybe because he was hotter than hot. Talk was getting him nowhere. If anything, he had worried her. Carefully, he tugged at the bra and tossed it on the floor.
His chest heaved. “Lift your hips, lass. Let’s get rid of these pants.”
The quiet happiness in her eyes said she knew a delicious secret. He’d expected her to be on the shy side in bed. If anything, he was the one who found himself in uncharted waters.
Bella was unlike any woman he had ever known. She challenged him intellectually, while at the same time driving him half mad with wanting her. When she was completely nude, he removed his boxers. Joining her in the bed, he flipped back the covers so she couldn’t hide from him.
He put his hand, palm flat on her belly. “You’re awfully quiet for a woman who has an opinion about everything.”
“Fishing for compliments?” She taunted him with a smirk.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Don’t talk. I have plans for your mouth anyway.” Behind her bold façade, he could swear he saw uncertainty. The notion wounded him. What would it take to make her want this moment as much as he did? “Turn over on your stomach,” he said.
She blinked once. “Okay.”
Now he was treated to a canvas of curves and shadows, a masterpiece of pale skin and tousled dark hair. He straddled her legs and put his hands between her shoulder blades. “Let me know if this is too much.”
Bella made some little muffled noise that could have been assent. It certainly didn’t seem as if she wanted him to stop. He aligned his thumbs along either side of her spine and pressed deeply.
Her moan made him smile. At one time, early in his early academic career, he had considered medicine as a life path. Other disciplines eventually lured him away, but he still remembered most of his anatomy studies. Such a thing came in handy when a man wanted to pleasure a woman.
Touching her was both bliss and torment. The silky feel of her skin beneath his fingertips was too visceral, too real. He didn’t want to have this experience burned into his brain. That was something women did… sentimentalizing sex. He was a man of intellect. His brain told him this was going to be physical and satisfying. End of story.
Bella sighed and stretched her arms above her head. “If I were any looser, I’d slide off the bed and onto the floor. High marks as a masseuse, Mr. Larrimore. If you ever need a reference, I’m happy to oblige.”
“I haven’t gotten to the good parts yet. Roll on your side and face me, lass. I’m even better from that angle.” He moved away from her and reclined, his head propped on his hand.
She made a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh, but obeyed. Now, it was worse. Not only could he touch her endlessly, but he could look into her eyes. Had she learned some kind of mesmerist’s trick? Why else did his throat dry and his hands shake when their gazes locked? What was she thinking? What did she expect from him?
The bed was comfortable, though the room was hardly decked out for seduction. The overhead fixture cast a harsh glare. Perhaps with candlelight and rose petals he could have made a better impression.
Lightly, he mapped the curves of her plump breasts. Bella caught her breath, her cheeks flushing. “You needn’t keep up the foreplay, Ian. I’m ready. Completely.”
“You don’t like what I’m doing?” The lazy pace cost him, ratcheting up his hunger and making him clumsy. It reassured him in some odd way that Bella was no more comfortable than he was with the intimate situation. They were both lamentably awkward when it came to verbal cues. Hopefully, they would excel in the next, more hands-on phase.
She caught his wrist and squeezed it tightly. “Seriously, Ian. I want you. Now.”
This time there was no joking tone in her voice, no humorous digs at his expense. Her clarity satisfied him somehow. It was gratifying not to have to guess what a woman was thinking. Bella was real and honest and beautifully direct in her explicit demand.
His sex pulsed. His heart raced. Hands trembling, he reached into the bedside table for protection. Bella averted her eyes as he took care of the matter. That little show of bashful embarrassment brought tenderness back into the mix. For all her intelligence and book smarts, she betrayed her sheltered upbringing at times.
“If I do something you don’t like, you have to tell me.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Understood?”
She nodded, big-eyed. “Yes, Ian.” When she licked her lips, he nearly lost it. Staring at him like a kid about to choose an ice cream flavor, she moved her thighs apart and held out her arms. “No more talking.”
It was a damned fine plan. He’d lost the ability to speak, anyway. He touched her carefully and found her damp and ready. When he fit the head of his erection to her center and pushed slowly, time slowed to a crawl.
Holy hell. Her body welcomed him, though Bella’s slight wince told him she had not practiced this particular sport in recent months. He grew dizzy, weak. But at the same time, a great wave of exultation built in his chest. This woman. Finley’s sister. Bossy. Brave. Impossible to predict. She made him want like he had never wanted before.
Things got hazy after that. He remembered thrusting wildly when she linked her ankles behind his back. There might have been a moment when he bit the side of her neck and panted, trying desperately to hold back the need to come that pummeled him relentlessly.
Breathless, exultant, he found his release and shouted her name.
After that, he slept.
