by Lori Foster
Ian twisted to see the rigid line of her back. She looked cute standing there in her short skirt, her legs bare, her hair dancing in the wind. “No? Why not?”
She huffed. “Just look at how you live. All neat and orderly with things just so. Men your age are very set in their ways.”
“A truism? Is this from experience or supposition?” Or from watching her mother? A string of boyfriends, she’d said, all of them wrong …
“Men don’t like to change just for a woman.”
She hadn’t bothered to look at him when she made that ludicrous accusation. “Maybe a woman would be the one changing.”
Whipping around, she glared at him. “Typicalmale attitude,” she all but spat. “The woman is always the one who needs to adjust.”
Ian stood. With every minute he spent near her, he better understood her. “I just said maybe, Erica. No reason to bite my face off.” He moved closer to her until she braced her hands behind her on the railing, but couldn’t lean any farther away. His eyes on hers, his hips nestled close to her pelvis, he said, “Seems to me if two people are in love and ready to build a life together, they both ought to do some adjusting.”
“Ha! What adjusting are you willing to do?”
She flung the words at him, as if she expected him to be totally inflexible. How could he be inflexible when she already had him wrapped around her little finger?
She didn’t know that though, and part of his plan was not to tell her. She needed a man to match her, and love her, otherwise she’d grind him under.
He stroked her cheek, bent till his mouth touched hers. “For the right woman, I’d do whatever I need to.” His words were an explanation she couldn’t yet understand, only because she didn’t know she was the right woman. But before the weekend was over, she’d figure it out and she’d know he had done whatever he needed to—including duping her, with George and Cameron’s help.
Erica flattened her hands on his chest to keep him from kissing her. He allowed her to put a small space between them.
“Who’s the woman?”
“What?” He’d been so close to taking her mouth, so lost in the best part of his duping, mainly getting her in bed, that his thoughts were scattered.
“This paragon you hope to marry and settle into the woods with. Who is she? Someone we work with?”
A slow smile took him by surprise. Why, she sounded jealous. “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want me that way. Yet.”
“So I’m here to fill the time?”
Damn it, how had he gotten into this exchange? Ian locked his jaw, measured his words in his mind, then mentally shrugged. He’d give her some truths and see what she did with them. “You’re here because we’re sexually attracted to each other.”
He half expected her to deny it, but she only pursed her mouth. “You want me enough to risk alienating this other woman? What if she finds out about this weekend?”
“She’ll know because I don’t keep secrets.” He lowered his voice to a growled whisper. “And yeah, I want you more than enough.”
“For a weekend.”
He couldn’t very well tell her he wanted her for a week, a month, a hundred years. “So what about you? Are you always honest?”
“Brutally.”
That made him laugh.
“It’s not funny, Ian. A lot of guys expect women to sugarcoat things, to always cater to their macho egos. But honesty is important to me.”
“Yeah?” Damn. What would she think when she found out he’d finagled their weekend from the start?
“If I don’t like something I’m going to say so, and if a guy can’t take it, tough.”
“I’m not exactly fragile, Erica.”
“Not your body, no. But male egos are far more delicate than—”
On behalf of males everywhere, he felt he had to interrupt. “You can be as honest with me as you want. Feel free to tell me exactly what pleases you, what you like and don’t like.” She looked skeptical, so he added, “I want to hear it.”
She gave a sharp nod. “Fine. I don’t want anyone to try to change me. And I definitely don’t want anyone to try to control me.”
Ian sighed. If he took her words to heart, all of his plans would be wasted. But he didn’t want to change her. He just wanted her to stop trying to be so tough, to accept him and how he made her feel. As to controlling her, well, only in a few sexual situations where he knew she’d enjoy herself.
He cupped his hand over her shoulder and trailed it down her arm until he could lace his fingers in hers. “Speaking of control … I promised you some service, remember?”
Just that easily, she went breathless. “Of course I remember. It’s … it’s our deal.”
“So you want to soak in the tub while I put away the dishes? When I’m finished I could help you with your bath.”
A little more color bloomed in her cheeks. Embarrassment, or excitement?
“Help me how?”
“However you want. It’s your show.” He started backing up into the apartment, tugging her along with him. The idea of having his hands on her naked, wet body damn near took his knees out from under him. If there was any justice in the world, he’d have her tonight because waiting any longer than that would be torture. “I’ll wash your back, your feet, your hair.”
“I just washed my hair.”
Such an inane comment for Erica. He loved it. He loved her. Then we’ll skip that part. You’re in charge, so what you say goes.”
They reached his bedroom and Ian opened the closet. “Help yourself to a robe or a shirt or whatever you’ll feel most comfortable in. I’ll get the bath water ready.”
She stood in the middle of his floor and bit her lip.
Ian wanted to hold her, to coddle her, to lay her atop the mattress and make slow, heated love to her. But more than that he wanted her trust. “I’ll be right back.”
He wasn’t gone for more than a minute. Once the temperature of the water was adjusted and the tub began to fill with bubbles, he went back to her. She’d pulled out his old terry cloth robe and had it clutched in her hands.
“Erica?”
“Hmmm?”
“You’re not shy about getting naked are you?” He approached her slowly, more because he had to hold himself back than because he was afraid of rushing her. “Remember, no matter how damned tempting you are—and believe me, you’re plenty tempting—I won’t do anything that you don’t want me to do.”
She nodded. “Right.” And then with a frown, she said, “I want to ask you something first.”
“Shoot.” They stood five feet apart and not touching seemed almost impossible.
Slowly her head lifted until their gazes connected. “Why me?”
His brain went blank. What could he tell her that wouldn’t blow his whole plan? That lust atfirst sight had morphed into love rather quickly? That wasn’t the way to handle Erica. “What do you mean?” he asked, stalling for time.
“I know you keep talking about sexual chemistry and all that. But there’s more to it. Why focus all this energy on me? You know, Becky tells me that a lot of the women at work try to get your attention.”
“Yeah?”
Nodding, she said, “They think you’re gay because you ignore them.”
He grinned at that.
“You think that’s amusing?” She looked more confused than ever.
“Am I supposed to be insulted over someone else’s assumptions? Let them think what they want.”
“But … why aren’t you interested in any of them?”
He drew a long, deep breath. Time for a few more truths. “You want me to bare my soul? All right.” He held out his arms. “I’m a big man.”
Her gaze dropped to his lap, making him laugh. “I didn’t mean that, although everything about me is … proportionate.”
Judging by the way her eyes widened, she understood his meaning. He was a big man, from his feet to his intelligence and everywhere in between. “I meant t
hat my size intimidates people, especially women.”
“The women at work?”
He waved a hand. “They’re silly, hiding in the bathroom and gossiping. So, yeah, they’d probably be the type to jump over a look. Ever since I’ve been a teenager, I’ve had to hold back. My temper, my attention. And my sexual drive.”
“But you figure I’m different?” She sounded a little awed by that.
“From the moment I saw you flirting and taunting and driving all the guys nuts, I knew I could let loose with you and you wouldn’t turn tail and run.”
Touching her became a necessity so he took one long stride and closed the space between them. He caught her shoulders and brought her to her tiptoes, close to his chest. “I know if I grumbled, you wouldn’t get afraid. You’d just grumble back.”
“Damn right, so don’t try it.”
“Yes ma’am.” He kissed the end of her nose. “But I am just a man, so if I forget or lose my temper, you won’t quail, will you?”
She snorted, but asked with a scowl, “Just how violent do you get when you lose your temper?”
“I get loud, not violent. And that’s enough to send most women running.”
The very idea set her off. “I don’t run from anyone!”
“And I don’t hurt women. Ever. I’d sooner break my own arm. I swear it.”
She nodded. “I believe you. But don’t think you can get away with yelling at me either.”
The things she said made his heart full to bursting. Gently, he said, “If I did, I wouldn’t mean anything by it. Besides, you’d just yell louder.”
“And longer.”
He laughed. “When I have you under me, small and vulnerable, you’ll love it. You’ll take what I give you and want more and you won’t ever feel overpowered.”
Her lips quivered and a pulse raced in herthroat, but she thrust up her chin. “I’ll demand my turn on top.”
“Yeah.” His voice went low and hoarse. “That’s what I figured.” She started to lean up to kiss him, and Ian said, “The bath is probably ready to overflow.”
He hustled her out of the room and down the hall. The tub was full, but he caught it in time. Kneeling, he shut off the water, set a thick towel on the ceramic floor just outside the tub, and turned—in time to see Erica unbuttoning her shirt.
Apparently, their exchange had emboldened her. Ian dropped back onto his ass with a thump and watched, spellbound. She smiled as she slipped each button free, knowing she drove him crazy and enjoying it.
“I told you that I take my shoes off when I get home, but know what else I like to take off?”
“Your clothes?” Damn, he sounded hopeful.
“Sometimes. But my shoes and my bra are always the first to go. Both are so constrictive. You won’t mind if I spend the weekend barefoot and braless, will you?”
He shook his head, rendered mute by the sight of pale flesh visible through the gaping shirt. Any second now he’d see her breasts. Be strong, he told himself. Do not start groveling. Or drooling. Drooling would be bad, too.
And here he’d thought this would be the easy part.
She shrugged the shirt off her shoulders and tossed it at his face. “Fold that for me.”
“Right.” He dropped it to his lap, unwilling to look away for even a second.
She reached behind herself and dragged down the zipper on her skirt. “Ian?”
“Mmm?”
“I need you to help me. Tug this down my hips, okay, so I can step out of it.”
Oh, good Lord. He moved forward on his knees and reached for the skirt. But that close to her, his hands automatically went to bare flesh. He shaped her waist, loving the fine texture of her skin in contrast to his rough palms. Her belly was gently rounded, smooth and pale, and her navel made only the slightest indent. He had to kiss it.
“Ian? The skirt.”
He cleared his throat and gathered what meager control he had left. He just hadn’t counted on the effect of her nudity. He felt like a ravening beast, hungry, in heat, ready to conquer. He wanted her under him—now.
The skirt was tight and had to be worked down. Her panties almost came with it, tripping his heart and freezing his breath in his lungs, but at the last second she caught the waistband and kept them on her hips.
Her bra matched her panties, and the shiny peach shade did interesting things to her rich black hair and ivory skin. It also did interesting things to his dick, making him swell to a full, demanding erection.
Through the thin material of her underclothes, he could see the darker circles of her nipples and a neat triangle of pubic hair between her legs. Still on his knees—a position now somewhat familiar with Erica—he reached up for the front clasp of her bra, then waited.
“Go ahead,” she whispered.
Ian had been in his teens when he’d mastered getting a female’s clothes off her. He sure as hell didn’t fumble now. The bra clasp opened and he drew the material apart. She lowered her arms and the straps slid down, then off so that the bra landed on the floor.
Her nipples, not pink but a deep mauve, were tightly puckered, making him groan. She didn’t have large breasts but they were soft and round and this was Erica. He’d wanted her for so long, he almost couldn’t remember ever not wanting her.
Erica curved her hand around his neck. “I want you to kiss me.”
His gaze snapped to hers but he didn’t need more encouragement than that. Oh, he knew what she intended: to make him hot, then make him stop.
She wanted some payback.
But hell, he was already hot, and stopping wouldn’t be easy for her, either. Eventually she wouldn’t want to stop. He knew he was right about that.
He lifted himself a little higher until his face was level with her torso. Wrapping his arms around her he tugged her close, tilted his head, and drew her left nipple deep into the wet warmth of his mouth. He sucked, not hard, but he wasn’t the least bit timid about it either. His nose pressed into her plump breast and she smelled so good he was already breathing hard.
Her body arched and her hands knotted in his hair. Ian tugged, using his tongue to tease, to flick and lick. Then he sucked some more until they were both shaking.
“That’s enough,” she whispered, but without much insistence.
“Not yet.” He moved to the other breast “Gotta be fair.”
To you?” she asked on a sigh.
To these.” And he kissed her right breast with the same enthusiasm. Within moments, Erica moved against him, her belly nudging his chest, her legs shifting with the need to get nearer. He stroked her shoulders, down to the small of her back, and finally over her firm cheeks, kneading and plying the resilient flesh, helping to grind her against his body.
When she was all but lost, he hooked his thumbs in her panties and pulled them down her legs. Leaning back, he looked at her. Her green eyes were smoky with desire, her nipples wet from his mouth, her whole body quivering. With one finger, he stroked the silky black curls on her mound, up, down, pressing in just the tiniest bit until he felt her small, taut clitoris. She groaned.
Jesus, she was the most appealing woman he’d ever seen.
And she was his.
He stood and scooped her into his arms; at the same time, Erica hugged him, pressing her face into his throat “Where are we going?” Her voice was deep, affected by sexual need.
Regret stung him, but he didn’t head for the bedroom. Not yet, he told himself, not just yet “You’re going into the tub and I’m heading to the kitchen.” His voice was unusually gruff.
She jerked her head back. “What?”
Lowering her into the now tepid water, he said, “Relax. Soak. When I’m done with the dishes I’llhelp you wash then dry you off and give you a massage.”
The water level was high, all but covering her except for her breasts and rosy nipples. He turned away, ignoring her slack-jawed surprise while struggling to contain himself. He would have liked to whistle, but his mouth wasn’t wor
king right at the moment and no way could he pucker.
Just as he reached the hall, he heard a furious splash, followed by a soft moan of dismay. He had her right where he wanted her.
Unfortunately, she had him in the same position.
Only she didn’t know it, and he did.
Erica scrubbed herself with a vengeance. Let him help? Ha. She’d let him rot, that’s what she’d do. He’d had his chance and he’d walked away. She’d been willing, damn it. Willing and needing and …
The problem, at least to her mind, was that when he got near, she couldn’t seem to remember that she was the boss. She just went all soft and female. She hated going soft and female.
It made a woman weak and left her open to misuse.
She didn’t have enough fingers and toes to count the men who had used and discarded her mother. Her mother would give a man everything—her heart, her home, often even her paycheck. And eventually he’d leave her, devastated and financially broke. They’d had to struggle so many times because of the scoundrels that her mother had grown fond of.
Erica prided herself on being different. Unable to accept her mother’s lifestyle, she’d gained her independence early on and she protected that above all else. She said and did exactly as she pleased and never would she let a man dictate to her.
Yet Ian had only to touch her and she lost herself.
She needed to rethink this whole thing. Really, what was it she wanted? She lifted one fingen: Ian naked. That would be very sweet on the eyes, not to mention how much her hands—and her mouth—would love it.
She lifted another finger: Ian making love to her. Yes, that would be heavenly.
A third finger went up: Ian at her mercy.
As if a lightbulb went on, Erica suddenly realized she could have all that with only one simple ground rule. Before he touched her again, she’d spell it out to him, then it’d be on him to maintain control, rather than on her.
Now why hadn’t she thought of that sooner?
She sat up in the tub and sluiced off the clinging bubbles. She wasn’t going to get any cleaner and no way could she relax. She’d just stepped out of the tub when Ian came back in.
