Instinctively, I followed suit until we were just a few inches away.
Her light brown eyes were solemn. “I know you’re uncomfortable around people, especially crowds. You hide it well and you get better with it all the time. But I’d say don’t do anything with crowds … no movies or anything like that. Keep it simple and casual. If this is somebody you’ve known for a while, then he’s probably already going to have figured this out anyway.”
“I’m that obvious?” Damn it.
“No.” Stacia laughed softly. “You’re not obvious, at all. Unless you want people to know. A person would have to spend some time around you to even guess at any of this. But…” She shrugged. “I spend time around you. And you pay me to be observant.”
I did. And apparently, I didn’t pay her well enough.
Settling back in my seat, I crossed my legs.
“Dress casual, huh?” Be comfortable?
That wasn’t likely to happen at the Waldorf Astoria.
I couldn’t exactly take him home, either. Home was … well, it was home. Although I didn’t have that much in the way of a permanent staff, the ones who did live at the house were more family than anything else. I couldn’t see myself taking Sean there.
What would Paul think?
And worse … how would Sean react?
But there was a place, though.
* * *
I’d done what Stacia had suggested and gone for comfort.
I’d also left my gloves at home.
Not just today, though.
I hadn’t worn them since our afternoon on the pier.
I was rather proud of myself.
The terrace of the house where I’d asked Sean to meet me was private. It faced out over Lake Michigan, and the lake was a dark, endless stretch of blue. A cold wind whipped off it and sliced through me. I stood there rubbing one palm against the other, the cold air all but numbing my hands.
“You’d be warmer if you’d worn your gloves,” I muttered.
I would have been.
But I needed to give up that crutch.
Over the years, I’d inured myself to those occasional, casual physical brushes that come with daily life. I hated it, yes. I still had the occasional panic attack, yes. But I no longer froze up when I had to consider going outside.
Now I’d gone several days without that added barrier between me and others.
Sometimes, I thought it was getting easier.
But then sometimes … I knew I lied to myself.
I’d learned to steel myself against casual touches and to ward off the casual hugs some people gave so easily by backing away or holding up a hand. There were always those who were determined to violate the space you clearly wanted to keep your own, and I’d learned to recognize them, too. There were ways to deal with almost all of them. The bitch glare, which I’d used that first night I’d met Sean, or a cool, cutting insult.
Sometimes you had to result to physical force, and while that always left me sick and shaking, I’d even resorted to that. Nora had made sure I had the tools I needed to never be a victim again.
It wasn’t a fear of assault that kept me a captive, though. People might think it was.
My scars were older than that, deeper.
Memory tripped free and I stared at my hands. They weren’t mine, though. They were smaller.
Bigger hands touched them, rubbed, while my small ones curled into fists and tried to pull away.
The storm of memories came rushing up to grab me and suck me under, and I fought against it. Sean would be here soon—
Big, rough palms curved around my hips.
“I think I should tell ya, Ella, your arse looks mighty fine in a pair of blue jeans.”
The memory fell away, an ugly, sticky mess of poisoned cotton candy.
I reached out and clutched at the decorative metal railing. We were at the Old Town house—I’d seen it some time ago and had it purchased. Sometimes, one of my companies had a business meeting here, or the occasional party.
In a way, I was doing just that.
Having a business meeting—just a very, very personal one. Perhaps we could even call it a party.
I’d loved this house from the first time I’d seen it. When I’d decided that maybe casual was the way to go, I could think of only one place.
This house. Perhaps it fell into some sort of gray area—we used it for business functions at times. But the house was mine. I’d bought it with my own funds and my own funds were used to maintain it.
I’d asked him to meet me here, and I’d given him the entry code.
He’d unerringly and silently found me.
Sean leaned in. He was careful, it seemed, to keep his body from crowding me too much. Even when he bent closer and rubbed his cheek against mine, he didn’t totally steal all my space away. He slid his hand up into my hair, and I bit my lip as he dislodged the pins, sending my hair tumbling down my back.
“It’s cold out here.” Slowly, he curled one arm around my waist and drew me back against him bit by bit. “You want to go inside?”
I shook my head and turned to look at him. “Not yet.”
“Then what do you want to do?” He nuzzled my neck and I shivered when he raked his teeth down the sensitive skin. “Your wish is my command, Your Highness.”
Dazed, I reached for his waist.
“What do you want to do?” he asked again, straightening and looking down at me.
I found myself looking at him for the first time that night. The pale beauty of his eyes caught me in the gut just as it always did. He cupped my face in his hand and rubbed his thumb over my lower lip.
“Why do you have to ask a million questions?” I demanded.
He heaved out a heavy sigh and leaned in, pressing his brow to mine. “Because I want to know what you want … and I want you to tell me.”
I couldn’t do what he could do so easily. He had his hand in my hair, his fingers absently massaging at my scalp. I felt helpless, trapped by his gaze, and the heat that came from him was seductive and tempting, reaching out to warm me. I could almost feel it burning me through my clothing.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Slowly, I reached up and pressed my hands to his chest, then stroked upward. The solid leather of his coat blocked the muscled wall of chest, so without letting myself think, I tugged the zipper down, pushed it aside. Underneath, he wore another sweater, this one a deep, charcoal gray. Hands flat against his pectorals, I moved them upward, curled them around his neck. His short hair scraped against my hands and I lifted my gaze, met his eyes.
His pupils spiked.
The music of the night rose around us, but it was nearly blotted out by the erratic cadence of breathing. The rhythm grew even more ragged when he reached up and caught the belt of my coat. As he did so, he looked around casually. “It’s nice, this place you have here. Private, yeah?”
Jerkily, I nodded. The rooftop terrace had been my design, done in a way that kept neighbors from seeing in. I’d had to knock down walls to have everything finished to my satisfaction, but it had been worth it. It also blocked some of the wind that came in from the lake.
The smile that lit Sean’s face was decidedly wicked. It faded, though, as he moved from the coat’s belt to its buttons. “You’re going to get cold,” he said softly, pushing my coat open. His lids drooped, and a harsh breath had his chest rising, then falling. “I’m going to undo each of these buttons next.”
He touched the small buttons on my sweater, and without waiting for me to respond, he did just that.
Cold air bit into my skin, and I gasped.
He wasn’t slow with the buttons.
I don’t know what was more of a shock, the bite of the cold or the warmth of his hands when he covered my breasts. It was sudden and startling, and I was so busy processing it that I didn’t have time to think about whether I was scared or not. He flipped the catch on my bra.
“I told you I’d see you na
ked.”
“I’m…” I licked my lips and looked down. I half forgot what I was going to say when I saw his hands cupping my breasts. His skin was shockingly dark, my skin so white. My nipples stabbed between his fingers, and I whimpered when he pinched them. “I’m not naked.”
“No. Not yet. But we might get there tonight.”
A shiver racked me, and Sean scooped me up into his arms.
The next thing I knew, he was carrying me across the planked wooden floor of the terrace.
* * *
The fire crackled in the hearth.
This man made my head spin in ways I couldn’t even explain.
He’d shown up in the darkness—granted, I’d told him to come inside and had even given him the code to do just that—and with only a few words, he’d opened my coat and sweater, left me bare chested, and touched me.
Then … nothing.
It had been well over an hour since he’d carried me inside and buttoned my sweater back up.
We’d demolished a pizza—he’d brought it with him.
We’d demolished most of a bottle of bourbon, too, which he’d also brought. Apparently, it was a bartender thing, because he’d noticed the kind I preferred. And now, with my belly full of the pizza and pleasantly warm from the bourbon, I was trying to figure out what to do about Sean.
He sprawled a few feet away, and as if he’d sensed my thoughts, he rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled toward me, as graceful as a giant cat, skin and muscles rippling.
“You’ve got this way of watchin’ me,” he said, straddling one of my thighs. He tangled one hand in my hair and tugged, using his hold on my hair to tilt my head back. “I can’t quite figure out what you’re thinkin’, Your Highness.”
“I’m trying to figure you out.” The words popped out of me before I realized I was even thinking them.
He laughed softly and bent low.
This time, the kiss didn’t even take me by surprise … much.
His tongue thrust past my lips, deep and hard and fast, and I clutched at him, wanting more and wanting all. Curling one hand around his wrist, I arched closer, but there was really no way to accomplish that goal.
My groan of frustration was cut short by Sean’s hands grasping me around the waist. He tugged me up and we half twisted, half fell in a tangle onto the floor, with me sprawled across his chest. Breaking the kiss, I braced my hands on the floor by his head and stared at him.
He slid his hands under the hem of my sweater, his fingers scraping against my skin. A shiver raced through me, followed by an explosion of heat as he nudged me down so that I settled across his hips.
The hot ridge of his cock pressed right against me.
I gasped.
Sean dragged my weight up, then down, and he watched me, his gaze direct and intent, as though he had to see just what his actions caused.
I whimpered.
He did it again and my head fell back. Heat and hunger gathered in me, and involuntarily, I rolled my hips, seeking to deepen that contact.
“Take off your sweater.”
I stiffened.
The tension gathered inside me and the languorous heat that had so easily twined through me evaporated. I darted a quick look at him, then away. My lungs felt tight, constricted, and when I tried to drag in a breath, they resisted that simple, basic action.
But Sean continued to stare and wait.
His cock continued to pulse against me, and to my dismay, I felt myself moving against him again, and a few seconds later, I was doing it again.
He plucked at my sweater. “Take this off, Your Highness.”
“I…” I stared at my hands resting on his shoulders, the white spots where my knuckles pressed bloodless against the skin, the simple gold band on my finger, given to me by Nora. “I can’t.”
“You can. But if you’re not ready…” He drawled the words out and managed a one-sided shrug. “I’ll entertain myself.”
He’d put his hands on my knees earlier and he stroked them up now.
My heart galloped as he moved them higher, higher … He didn’t stop until he had his thumbs wedged in the creases of my thighs, terribly close. I felt foolish, too, because I couldn’t even bring myself to think just where he was close to.
“Take off your sweater?” he asked.
I found myself reaching for the hem as he pressed his hands against me with more pressure. I sucked in a breath, though, pausing when he dragged one thumb along my crotch. I clutched at the sweater’s hem with palms that had started to sweat.
“Would you like to know what I want to do tonight?”
I nodded jerkily. It was easier to think—or not think—if he was distracting me.
“I’ll get you naked. At first I thought I’d find a bed to lay you on, but now I think I want to have you naked here, in front of the fire. That’s where an ice queen should be, in front of a fire, with the cold of winter held back by a few panes of glass.” He angled his head to glance out the window. “If only it would snow.”
I didn’t even try to follow that line of reasoning. I’d relaxed enough that I thought maybe I could handle trying to take the sweater off, though, and I started to do just that. Dragging it up, I focused on the simple task of stripping my sweater away. Once I had it off, I held it clutched to my breasts and looked at him. “Now you.”
“Now you’re getting it, darlin’,” he said, a pleased smile lighting his face. He half lifted and I had a delightful view of his abdominal muscles as he pulled his shirt off. They flexed and tightened as he cameupright, stripping the sweater off then tossing it aside.
He held himself there when he was done and reached for mine, tugging at it.
“Now you,” he said, echoing my words.
Slowly, I let go of my sweater.
He cupped my waist in his hands and leaned in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to my breastbone. “You’re too lovely,” he murmured.
“What…” Slowly, I curled my arms around his shoulders. It felt nice. It felt right. That was foolish, really, and I knew it. This wasn’t right. This was temporary. How stupid was it to feel right over something that would last only a few more weeks?
But it felt … perfect.
“What do we do now?” I asked him, my voice shaking.
“Now…” He spoke the words not even an inch from my skin, and it sent shivers dancing across me. I wanted to gasp and moan, and instead, I clutched at the back of his head. “I talk you into taking this bra off.”
* * *
He kept that up until he had me down to nothing but my panties.
I stopped trying to talk him out of anything once he was down to his jeans.
Terror already held my body far too rigid, and although Sean said nothing of it, I knew he was aware.
Every time I got too self-conscious or nervous, he’d say something outrageous.
Which was how I ended up playing my first game of Truth or Dare.
“I’m not playing Truth or Dare,” I told him.
He stroked a hand up my thigh. “Fine … I’ll play. You just answer the questions.”
“That’s playing,” I said. Then he skipped his fingers a little higher and nerves had me responding. “Fine—fine! What … How do you play?”
He gave me a slow grin. “Truth … or dare?”
“Um … truth?” It seemed safer than dare.
“Do you ever touch yourself?”
“What?” Blood rushed to my face and I jumped in surprise. That was either a mistake or the best thing I’d ever done, because it nudged me a little closer to his wandering hand, and I froze.
He did, too, although not for the same reasons.
Then, slowly, he stroked me. His fingers lay against the crease of my thigh and he whispered, “You owe me an answer, Your Highness.”
“I…” Licking my lips, I closed my eyes and let my head fall against his shoulder. “Yes. I have.”
“Where?” His calloused finger rasped against the sen
sitive skin. How could something so simple feel so erotic? In fact, that light touch there felt far better than anything I’d ever done. My mind immediately moved to the next thing—the thought of me touching myself, my fingers moving in and out between the folds of my sex. It was sometimes uncomfortable and awkward, while other times, pleasant.
But never like this.
I was already far wetter than I had ever been before. I could feel it.
“That’s…” I had to stop and clear my throat before I could even speak. “That’s a second question.”
“So it is, darlin’. Very well. Truth or dare?”
“I want to take a turn.”
I’d surprised myself. Judging by the rising tension in his body, I’d surprised him, too.
“Do y’ now?” His teeth caught my earlobe and he tugged. “And here I was already planning to tell you that I was going to either have you tell me where you’d touched yourself, or dare you to let me inside your knickers.”
I whimpered and he traced the shell of my ear with his tongue.
“Would you have let me inside your knickers?”
I jerked my head and then, before I lost my nerve, I whispered, “I dare you.”
“Oh, Ella. Never dare me.”
His fingers toyed with the lacy waistband of my panties and I squeezed my eyes closed, bracing myself.
“You’re tensing up on me, Your Highness.” His free hand came up, catching my breast. “No reason for that now. I’m just doin’ as ya asked.”
His brogue was thicker; it tended to deepen when he was distracted or angry or … my breath squeezed out of me as I realized what the cause was now. I could feel that cause, prodding me in the back. His cock was thick and full. Sexual arousal never made me comfortable. In fact, it often incited full-blown terror, but I wanted to turn to him, wished I had the courage to drag his zipper down and wrap my hand around him, touch him as he touched me.
I didn’t, though.
He tweaked my nipple and I gasped, arching into his hand. It had almost hurt.
“You’re thinking about something other than me,” he said brusquely. “Don’t do that.”
Thirty Nights with a Dirty Boy: Part 1: A Heroes and Heartbreakers Serial Page 6
