Apparently her subconscious felt differently. At least he hoped so. This was an awfully big risk he was taking. There was no logical way to prove Eleesha loved him or that they were meant to spend their lives together. A part of him had been afraid that the real reason he was pushing so hard, and why he’d made such a big production of telling everyone at work was in order to convince himself.
Or did he just need that audience, that crowd to play to? That was what had always rallied him when the chips were down. There was no way to describe that feeling—tens of thousands of people on their feet, screaming their lungs out, calling your name, knowing that you could do the impossible—throw a seventy-yard touchdown on fourth and long, seconds to go in the fourth quarter, the best defensive line in the league frothing at the mouth to rip you to shreds. He’d been there—he’d felt what that much energy could do when transferred to one individual.
He’d been called brave for standing up there so many times, facing all those hits just to pump an air-filled piece of pigskin down the field. But that was just it. Football was a game, about pigskins and uniforms and pretty cheerleaders. Sure, grownups played it for real and people got hurt, but he never once considered it real work, a real challenge.
It was guys like Lyle that he envied, who had the balls to get up every day and punch a clock, facing that ongoing challenge of raising a family, loving the same woman, being there for her, through thick and thin.
He could only pray that he would have something close to that.
It was ironic, to say the least, that Lyle would think him even more of a hero for this, for just grabbing his woman and taking her off to be married. If only he knew that what really scared Ross was doing it the regular way. Asking permission. Waiting his turn. Risking actual and genuine rejection, not the football kind, where you could dust yourself off and play another down or another day, everything forgotten.
So what was his plan, in actual detail? Well, he did have to admit it was pretty clever, given it was all off the cuff. Using various contacts he had—who, themselves, had whole sets of contacts—he was able to book first-class airfare to the Isle of St. Ignatius, a small Caribbean island territory of the United States. This jurisdiction was important, because it meant he could procure a license and a judge. Being that the place was also a bona fide tropical paradise, he was sure to have the right backdrop for his perfect seduction.
A complimentary hotel suite had also been obtained, thanks to some endorsements he’d done for its owner. Down the line, he’d been handed all the perks. A waiting limo at the airport, free drinks, snorkeling, skydiving, parasailing, whatever they might want.
For Ross’ part, he planned to do anything and everything that would wear down Eleesha’s resistance. Sexual desire was one thing, but it was only the beginning. More than anything in the world, he wanted her to turn to him before they walked down that aisle and say, “Ross, you were right…this is right…for us.”
But that could not be forced. Anymore than he could force that football into the receiver’s hands. He had to let it go. Literally and figuratively tossing it up. If the other side came up with the interception, that could be the ball game, but it was a chance he had to take. That’s called trust. In one’s team, in oneself and in one’s fans. It’s the one thing that couldn’t be developed in the weight room or on the practice field alone. It came from the heart.
Eleesha had taught him a lot since he’d come back into her life. He was changing, evolving. He hoped she would too. Time would tell. The next couple of days were critical. In the meantime, there was still that overpowering feeling of her physical closeness. The way she smelled, sweet and so very female. The way her curls poured over him, the way her lips pursed in sleep. And the warmth of her body, that incredible, exquisite body he could not get enough of.
He laid his hand on her thigh, where her skirt had ridden up. Was this what if felt like, when one was married? To have one woman who was yours alone to touch? To know you would be welcomed when doing so? Ross already knew that he could not bear for another man to touch his Eleesha.
God, that sounded good to his ears. His Eleesha.
A man had been looking at her as they got on the plane and Ross had stared him down. No one would look at his Eleesha. No one would touch her. No one would love her, except for—
He’d nearly said himself. Which raised the question of love.
Damn it all, he had to be the biggest fool in history. Planning this off-the-charts romantic marriage without even being sure of loving the bride. He knew he wanted to be touching more than her thigh right now, did that count?
Ross turned off the overhead light and pulled Eleesha’s blanket over her lap. What he intended to do to her was his business and no one else’s. Reclining her seat all the way back, he whispered in her ear.
“Roll on your back, sweetie, open your legs for me.”
“Mmm,” she smiled tenderly in her sleep. “Ross.”
He relished hearing her talk to him this way, even if she was asleep. Working his way under her skirt, making sure to keep things well out of sight from any passersby in the largely deserted cabin, he went to work on her clitoris. He had her writhing in seconds. Tiny flicks to the swollen bud of her sex caused fragrant moisture to emanate from deep within. She encouraged him with the motion of her hips, inviting him to plumb her womanhood, to bring her to the brink of ecstasy.
It was an act of pure trust on her part, to show so much of her lust, to respond to him so fully. This was the Eleesha he’d known from the beginning, but with more maturity and confidence born of years of experience. She was ever so much more desirable now, ever so much more alluring.
Ross sighed in satisfaction. Eleesha was one of the most sexual women he’d ever encountered.
No one had ever had the ability to turn him on like this, either. If only he could mount her, right here at thirty thousand feet. She’d wrap her shapely legs around him, cry out in thrilled release and explode with him to the mutual orgasm of a lifetime.
For now he’d have to settle for watching her come. He’d so wanted to see the look on her face on the back of the bike on the way to the airport. He hadn’t let her know that he’d figured out what she was doing. But he’d certainly enjoyed the thrust of her body, the squirming motions as she’d tried so hard not to react. Truth be told, he’d wanted her to have that reaction. A man did not put his woman bare-ass on a motorcycle and not expect a reaction. Most especially a woman like Eleesha.
If they weren’t on a tight schedule, he’d have fucked her at the airport. Being with her, it was getting harder and harder not to want to make love constantly. Ross attended to her now, observing as she made little mewling sounds, reaching out with her arms. It was wild but true—she was actually translating this experience into her dreams.
“Come for me.” He stroked her swollen pussy. “Come for me, darling Eleesha.”
Eleesha’s pussy muscles clamped down on his fingers. She grasped her own breasts, emitting a deep, soft groan, barely audible, indicating her bliss. She was like an angel, an angel advertising pleasure.
A few seconds after Eleesha subsided, the flight attendant came by—a shapely redhead, tall, with a raspy purr of a voice. “Please fasten your seat belt, sir. Seats in the upright position.”
The way she was talking, the way she was looking at him made it clear—she was his for the taking. A year ago, he thought, a month, even a week ago, he would have been getting her number, or arranging for drinks right after the flight. But he had a full-time project now. One woman with whom he had his hands full. And the funny thing was, he didn’t mind.
Kind of liked it, actually.
“Time to wake up, sleepyhead.” He gave her a kiss.
* * * * *
Eleesha stirred. She was dreaming of being made love to by a prince on a picnic blanket. He had the most beautiful body, and he was the gentlest of lovers.
The real pressure on her lips—light and tingly—continued to pull her to
the surface. It was the kiss of a man…the sort of kiss you had to respond to. Arching her back, she felt the strain on her nipples. Her thighs were slick with her own fluid. This was real then?
Ross.
This was his doing. Who else? Her eyes popped open, fully awake. He was there, on the other end of those male lips that were kissing her, leaning across his seat to hers. She protested, rather inarticulately, which only led him to press harder.
When she tried to flat-out push him away with the heels of her hands, he gave her an order. “Hands down, Eleesha.”
She hated herself for obeying, for allowing him continued access to her body. The point he was making was clear. The kiss would stop when he was ready and not before. This was classic Ross, staking out his territory, which he might or might not make use of.
“So what were you dreaming?” he teased, his lips grazing her earlobe. “It must have been pretty interesting.”
It occurred to her now that she’d made quite a show in her sleep. The pig had no doubt enjoyed it all.
“I saved this for you,” he whispered.
Two of his fingers touched her lips. Oh, god, they smelled like her.
“Clean them off, sweetie.”
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed.
Ross caressed her breast through her blouse until she had no choice but to suckle. The fingers had been inside her all right—he’d masturbated her in her sleep. Eleesha had to rub her thighs together afresh at the sensations he was creating. The way he molded her needy breast as he gave her this unique taste, her sex and his skin.
She closed her eyes, wishing it were another part of him she was sucking.
“We will be landing shortly,” said the flight attendant.
Ross deprived her of the fingers, diverting his attention instantly to the redhead. Eleesha had hated the woman from the start. She knew the type well—the sort that liked to kiss and tell. And she was hot, too, as good as anything in a magazine, which made it worse.
“Is your seat all the way up?” the woman asked, her oval face perfectly framed in the cabin light as she bent over.
Eleesha saw her long, decorated fingers snaking out. The bitch was actually going to check his seat button herself. With another woman sitting right next to him.
“It’s just fine,” snapped Eleesha. “Why don’t you run along and play coffee, tea or me somewhere else.”
She cocked her head. The old expression eluded her. “Coffee, tea or me?”
Ross grinned slantedly. “We’re fine, Miss, thank you,” he resolved the potential catfight.
Eleesha laced into him next. “Don’t you dare say I was acting jealous, Ross Maclean. And another thing. Would you mind explaining why I am wetter than the Caribbean? As if I didn’t know, with the evidence all over your grubby fingers.”
His close-lipped smile grew to insufferable proportions. She hated how handsome he was, without even trying. The trip had probably turned her into Frankenstein’s monster’s fiancée, but he looked better than ever with slightly tousled hair and tiny lines at the edges of his eyes.
“I was enjoying my gorgeous, totally irresistible woman. Is that a crime?”
The words melted her more than any manual exploration of her pussy. Was that what she was now—Ross’ woman?
“Flattery will get you nowhere, and yes, groping people in their sleep is generally considered—”
Another kiss knocked her breath away. He seized her hair, tugging her head back for complete invasion of her mouth. This was no idle tease. This was a flat-out conquest. He’d won this, he’d won her…but she had to tell herself there was far to go before either of them could really trust.
“When we check into the hotel,” he told her, not cracking a smile this time, “you won’t be doing any sleeping, Eleesha.”
“Yes, Ross,” she whispered, understanding it to be nonnegotiable.
He put her hand, blatantly, over his erection. “You feel that, Eleesha? It’s hard for you, not the flight attendant. You’ll be dealing with me one-on-one the rest of your life, so get used to it.”
“Oh, Ross.” She marveled at the feel of him, the surging power. She knew what lay underneath those trousers, but she wanted and needed it all over again, as if for the first time. In her mouth, between her legs, looming over her, touching every part of her body…taking her.
“That’s enough for now.” He placed her hand back in her own lap. “Pull yourself together. We’ll be landing any second.”
“Yes, Ross.” So this is what he meant, she thought, when he promised to control me with sex…with the heat of my own body.
It was true. For the first time in her adult life, Eleesha did not feel free. This man held sway, as surely as if he’d fitted chains and shackles to her wrists and ankles, and a collar of golden metal around her throat.
How was he accomplishing this? Other men had made love to her, even made her come. A few, quite unsuccessfully, had even asked her to marry them. Probably they had loved her, too—which was more than she knew about Ross. And yet he was the one she sat beside now, excited out of her mind.
You won’t be doing any sleeping tonight, Eleesha.
The man intended to make love all night. But what if she exercised the right of every woman to say no? It was a razor’s edge they walked—the mutual thrill surrounding her conquest, and the very real fear and doubt she felt.
The plane landed with a series of efficient bumps. The tires screeched appropriately, and they rolled up to a tiny disembarkation facility. Hardly a terminal by mainland standards.
“All passengers may disembark, thank you for flying with us,” trilled the deep, island bass of the captain’s voice. “May you find here what you seek.”
Interesting choice of words, she thought.
Ross grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s go.”
He was as eager as a teenager, and again she felt so very special. “Calm down. You’re going to pull my arm off,” she laughed in spite of herself.
“I’m not wasting a moment with you,” he informed her, helping her from the last stair down onto the tarmac.
The terminal was made of corrugated steel, painted a pastel green.
An exceedingly bored-looking customs agent was waiting. There were all of five gates inside, and three counters representing the only airlines that did business on the island.
“Baggage claim, sir?” asked a beaming, dark-skinned skycap ready to show Ross the way.
“No luggage,” Ross said. “We’re looking for a limo, to the Port Royale Hotel.”
The man looked suitably impressed. “Nothing but the best, sir, am I right?”
“What else would you have me do?” said Ross. “When I am here with the most beautiful woman on the island?”
Eleesha blushed.
“I’d have to say you are right, sir,” agreed the sixtyish man with long, thin features. “The most beautiful on this, or any, island.”
The limo was waiting out front. Eleesha was bathed in a current of warm sea air as soon as the door opened. Palm fronds swayed gently above them, and stars gleamed in a velvet-black sky. She could hear the ocean somewhere nearby—the endless rippling waves, assailing this sandy coast as they had for a thousand years.
“Taxi, mon?” hawked a Jamaican leaning out the window of a beat-up blue sedan.
A dozen others picked up the call, like seagulls, squawking out of the window of their own cars, not too alike, though each as colorful and ancient. Other people were selling food. A large woman with a bandana had some sort of cinnamon stick pastries, while a young boy offered pink fruit, juicy as the fruit of Eden, or so he said.
Then there were the car horns, the bicycle riders and a hapless traffic cop with a whistle and long white gloves trying to make sense of it all.
“Mr. Maclean?” A man tapped Ross on the shoulder. He was all of four-foot-three, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sandals. He had a straw fedora on his head. To Eleesha he looked like a miniature Jimmy Durante.
“The car is over here.”
The limo was parked up the street. Long and white and sleek. It had only one set of back doors but Eleesha counted three windows on each side. The glass was smoked—the kind you couldn’t see through.
“We’re not waiting ‘til we get to the hotel,” Ross decided as they followed the little man to their ride.
She felt a stab of wet, hot weakness. It was going to start in the car.
Chapter Eight
“Undress,” he said as soon as the driver closed the door behind them.
Eleesha looked at him in disbelief. Surely he didn’t intend for her to disrobe completely in the back of a moving vehicle?
“Beg pardon?”
Eleesha was sitting in the row of seats facing the rear, while Ross was across from her, facing forward. Three feet of thickly carpeted floor separated them.
“I said take all your clothes off, Eleesha. I want you naked.”
She swallowed. “But…we’re…”
“Don’t argue with me, woman,” he said crossly. “I’ve waited ten hours to get my hands on your bare skin and I will absolutely not be delayed a moment longer. Now, either you can feel pleasure or the sting of my hand on your ass, the choice is yours.”
“Is this your brilliant plan for handling me the rest of our lives?” She pouted, removing her jacket. “Bullying me into submission?”
“When the mood suits me. I’m glad to see, at least, that you are reconciling yourself to being my wife.”
“I was speaking hypothetically. Only to show how ridiculous this all is,” Eleesha informed him.
Her nipples peaked in eager anticipation as she unbuttoned her blouse. Her skin was flushed, her breathing shallow. The intensity of the man’s gaze was nearly enough to make her swoon.
Come and Get Me Page 9
