by Jill Monroe
“Believe me when I say I’m up.” He swooped in, and gave her another kiss, then his hands slid to her breasts. “That’s another move to distract you,” he told her. He never dropped his hands.
Her nipples hardened, growing more sensitive against the lace of her bra. “Although I was never your traditional high schooler, I believe I can safely say that the girl wasn’t really fooled by your maneuvers.”
“And here I was working under this grand illusion all this time.” His lips touched hers again, his tongue doing delightful things to her mouth. “My favorite move at the time was the thumb circle.”
He circled her breast with his thumb, his rotations getting tighter and tighter until he reached the tip. “If I were feeling bold, I’d move to below her shirt.”
Her stomach quivered when she felt his fingertips caress her bare skin.
“I like your bold moves.”
“Then check this out,” he said. He leaned over and gently sucked her earlobe into his mouth. She felt his hands on her back, then the looseness of her bra.
She moaned as he fully cupped her breasts. “That was some move,” she told him.
He chuckled. “Ready for third?”
“There’s another base?” she asked, her body beginning to tremble in excitement.
“Oh, yeah.”
She almost whimpered as his hands left her breasts. Then she realized their destination. She slid her legs apart as his hands skimmed down her waist, over her hips and to the place between her thighs. She cursed her tight pants for being in the way.
“What I wouldn’t have given to touch a girl like you here at seventeen.”
“Think of something,” she teased.
“I don’t know, but I’m feeling the exact same kind of desperation.”
She laughed, loved knowing she made him desperate. He rubbed her though her jeans, and suddenly she was desperate. His hand created a delicious friction, and she grew warm and wet and ready to take him inside her body.
His lips found hers again, and he kissed her with a hard, passion-filled caress. At the same time, his hand plunged into her jeans under her panties, his fingers discovering her clit.
She pulled her mouth away, moaning. “Ian.”
“More? Relax. I want to touch you all over.”
“What’s the goal of baseball?”
“To hit a home run,” he said, his lips lowering to her collarbone.
“What does it mean with a girl. With me?”
He stopped. Glanced at her. “To make love to you.”
Her body trembled. She was ready for a home run. “Ian, would you like to come up for some coffee?”
“I can’t tell you how much I’d love a cup of coffee.”
IT WAS THE QUICKEST he’d ever exited a car. Ian followed her upstairs and into her apartment, nothing and no one around them. They were the only two people in the world. The large front room was still scented by a subtle hint of oil.
Ian locked the door behind them, and trailed her into the kitchen. “Should I actually pretend to make it?” she asked.
A smile briefly touched his lips as he practically stalked toward her. Ava sucked in a breath. The lessons had stopped. Now they were just man and woman. And primal instinct.
He grasped her head, then brought her mouth to his lips. This kiss was neither controlled nor deliberate, but hungry and ready for her.
This was no slow seduction. Only need and passion.
“You on top,” she said.
He almost growled. Ian bent, reaching under her knees and hauling her against his body. He marched into her bedroom, and carefully set her on the mattress. He moved to follow her, but she held out her hand.
“Wait,” she ordered. “Watch.”
She tugged her shirt up and over her head. She’d never bothered to rebutton her jeans after his ministrations in the car, so with a quick flick of her wrist, the zipper was down and her pants off.
She lay against her pillows wearing nothing but a sexy bra and panties. They matched. Black with little pink bows. His new favorite color.
She also hadn’t bothered to snap her bra into place after he showed her his moves in conjunction with second base, so the material slipped easily off her body.
She sat before him in only those skimpy little panties. He’d felt what secrets were hidden behind that tiny swatch of lace. She’d described imagining his fingers there, his cock learning those secrets of hers when he’d taught her about phone sex.
What he hadn’t done was see her. Her fingers hooked around the edge of her panties, and she slowly wiggled them down her thighs. She kicked them away, and lay before him naked. Availing herself desirably, his arousal grew.
“Ava, here’s another conversation you probably need to learn. The condom discussion. Do I need to get them? I have some in my camera bag. But I want you to know that I always play it safe, and I get tested all the time because of my trips overseas. I’m clean.”
“Me, too.”
He swallowed. “What about pregnancy? You protected there?”
“You don’t want to use a condom, do you?”
“I can think of nothing else but the erotic feel of your skin against mine.”
“I’m protected there, as well. Don’t worry, I won’t get pregnant.”
He moved toward her, and she put her hand out again. “Wait. Not yet.”
He groaned in frustration, but then his eyes widened as she ran her hands down her body to caress her breasts, circle her navel, stroke her clit. His breathing turned shallow and his heart almost went through his ribs at the site of her fingers touching, drawing pleasure, from the very place he wanted to be.
“You like watching me touch myself, don’t you, Ian?”
He nodded. “Most men love to see a woman take pleasure in her body. It turns them on, makes them harder.”
His cock swelled against his jeans. Quickly he stripped, and her eyes cut his erection a glance. A feminine smile lifted her mouth.
“You see, for men, finding orgasm comes easily. Not so much for women. It takes a little time. Then women discovered the secret, their true power. It’s in their pleasure. A man’s pleasure, your pleasure is actually heightened by mine.”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving the vision of her fingers caressing between her legs.
“That’s nature’s way of making sure man took care of woman. And if a woman finds a man who’s all into taking that time, she knows she has a winner. Nice how it works that way. Look at me, Ian.”
His eyes traveled slowly up her body until he met her gaze.
“You’re going to make me feel good, aren’t you?” she asked, half question, half demand.
“Yes. So good.”
She smiled, rested against the pillows and spread her legs for him.
He took himself in hand, moved toward her and found where she’d opened to him. She moaned at the intimate thrust of his flesh sliding into hers.
She locked her legs behind his waist, her body a perfect fit for him. He began to thrust more deeply inside her. Ava started to move with him, against him. Her face tightened. Her muscles gripped him. He ground his hips against hers, finding her clit. That sent her over the edge.
She screamed, her climax hit hard. Her moans, her grip of his penis, it was all too much. He went right over the edge with her.
Soon their breathing returned to normal. The only other sound was the blowers from the heating unit keeping them warm. She lay in his arms, stroking his skin. Utterly content.
Her fingers found the knot of flesh below his right shoulder blade. The scar.
“I was shot.”
Ava gasped, her brows knitting together in concern. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Some people don’t like reporters.”
“So they shot you?”
There were worse things than being shot at, he’d seen plenty of it. Normally, he wouldn’t have a problem talking about it. But Ava, as he was quickly realizing, had spent an idealized youth jet
ting from one remote archaeological dig to another, then from the protected walls of university to on-the-job research among cultures that were actually getting along. Not his area of expertise.
Deep down—hell, not so deep down—Ava was an optimist. She easily found the good in anything. Five minutes of hearing his war stories could wipe that brightness of spirit right out.
He sat up, reaching for his shirt.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the hotel. It’s late, I thought you might want your privacy.” Plus she hadn’t invited him to stay.
“Here’s a story you might find interesting. The early American Puritans thought one way to gauge if a couple would be happy together was partly based on whether or not they slept together well.”
“Sleep together or actually sleep together?”
She paused for a moment. “Oh, I get it. Sleep together is a euphemism for sex. No, in this case, sleeping together actually meant sleeping together. Of course, this was a culture where innocence was valued for both men and women, so a board was placed in the bed between the young man and woman. If they slept well next to each other, it was seen as a good sign.”
Ian scrubbed a hand down his face. “Ava, I’m too worn out to work on the book right now.”
She shook her head. “What I’m trying to say, and obviously not very well, is that you can stay the night here with me, and I promise—no board.”
NATURALLY, HE WOKE WITH her breast in his hand. Was there a better way to sleep? Her soft backside pressed into the heaviness of his erection.
He wound a lazy path with his fingers along her skin, inviting her to wake up. He smoothed the hair back from her neck, watching the blond locks fan out against her pillow. He loved her hair. Loved seeing its softness spread out on the sheets, in his hand, across his body.
With her neck exposed, he ran his tongue along its slope, already knowing that particular spot was one of her favorites.
“Mmm,” she moaned and tilted her hips, pushing her soft rear against his hardened cock. She stilled. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh.”
He lowered his hand until he found her breast again. “I love your breasts. How they respond to me. How you taste.”
But as tempting as her breasts may be, he wanted the slick feel of her against his fingers. Ian lowered his hand, stopping as he felt the soft curls between her thighs.
Her hips jerked, forcing her harder against his penis. He fought the urge to sink into her. No, he wanted to touch her, savor her.
He found her clit, damp and so responsive to his touch. She gasped with just his slightest graze. His fingers lowered, and he smiled at what he found. “So warm, so wet. Are you ready for me, Ava?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Ava made a small protesting noise when he moved his hand away. His fingertips skimmed down her thigh and stopped just above her knee. He pulled her leg over his, getting her into position. His penis found her wet opening, and he slid home. Slowly. They both groaned at the wonderful sensation of her body enveloping his.
His entry complete, his hand sought her clit once more. He stroked her and her every muscle tensed. He thrust and fingered her, every part of his body working together to bring them both pleasure.
Her inner muscles began to quiver around him. He knew she was close. “I want to hear you,” he said.
Nothing, not one thing was as erotic as hearing Ava find her release. Her body tensed, then with a burst she clamped down, making him moan.
He doubted he could last much longer. Then he felt her, heard her come. She cried out his name, and he changed his mind. Hearing his name on her lips as she reached her orgasm, now that was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard.
“We never really set up any ground rules for what we’re doing,” she said a few moments later as he was about to drift off to sleep.
“We never really set up any ground rules on who was the decision maker over the book, either, and that’s going just fine,” he countered. “A technicality.”
Ian rolled onto his back and tucked her head against his chest. “You’re going to make me talk, aren’t you?”
“You know what I always say—”
“Yes, I know. Most problems between a man and woman can be cleared up with one good sit-down conversation.”
She lifted her head and smiled down at him. “Most conflicts can be avoided that way, too.”
He chuckled tiredly. “Doing this after sex is a sneaky blow.”
“One practiced by generation after generation of women.”
“My job is too complicated for any type of relationship.”
“I figured so, like mine. All the traveling. But I like what we have right now.”
His heartbeat quickened. “Me, too.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And I don’t think we need to worry that us making love will ruin the sexual tension of the book. Not anymore.”
“So, as long as we’re working on the book together…”
He gently pushed her head back down to his chest, her hair fanning across his skin. “Then we’re together.” He liked the sound of that.
“Why did you become a reporter, Ian?”
Was he off the hook now? No more discussion talk? And why did he feel…let down that she didn’t want more of a relationship from him? He sighed heavily. “I’ve always been curious, always wanted to know what’s around the next corner. That first time I was running across the desert with my camera, being chased, that’s when I knew who I was. I felt the most alive.”
Except right now. Dog-tired, sated and with Ava lying across his chest, he felt very much alive. They’d said the book, but there was also that vacation. Plus revisions, captions for the photos, suggestions from the copy editor, final proofs…
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THEIR LAST WEEK HAD TAKEN on a nice routine of working on the book together in the morning, sending the manuscript pages to his sister in the afternoon and taking pictures at night. They’d made tremendous progress despite being delightfully interrupted to make love and to argue as to who exactly was making the final decisions.
Ian and Ava sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her fireplace as they debated about an ancient warrior class. “I’m telling you it’s true.”
Ian gave her a skeptical look. “So you’re telling me that once they stole the woman and he had her in his possession, it was suddenly okay with her father that she was gone? Her family is hell-bent on protecting her, then all of a sudden all these alpha males just throw up their hands, and say, ‘Oh, well, you won.’”
Ava made a face. “Well, when you put it like that it does sound far-fetched.”
“I think some of your theories need a male’s point of view from time to time.”
She glanced up sharply. She was about to ask Ian if he planned to volunteer for the job. As a joke. Then she saw the look on his face. The man was clearly horrified by what had just come out of his mouth.
She searched for something to fill the gulf that suddenly arose between them.
“What I find so interesting,” she began, “is that after they’ve stolen the woman, they then try to woo her. I mean, she’s there…he’s got her. But he works very hard to win her love.”
Ian cleared his throat. “Makes some sense to me. It’s not just about sex. He’s taken that woman to be his wife. His companion. It’s about loneliness, and the need to spend your time with someone who doesn’t want to run away or toss a knife in your back.”
Silence stretched between them once more. Since they’d become lovers, nothing even close to resembling an awkward moment had passed between them. Now there had been two.
Maybe she should try to tempt him with the paints. Although the idea was to paint yourself and wash your partner, they’d improvised, taking on both roles. She’d try something else. “Maybe he just needed a friend.”
“He’d have been insulted if she’d offered. A woman should never tell a man she just wants to be his friend.”
“Not the women ones,” he said drily.
She laughed, and reached for a newspaper clipping. “Hey, I think I found the perfect thing for more of my twenty-first-century dating indoctrination. It’s called a cuddle party.”
Ian’s eyes widened in alarm. “Have you ever been to one? It’s supposed to be great. Hugging and touching. Perfect to shake off any intimacy issues.”
“I’m fine with my intimacy issues just the way they are.”
“You’re in a strange mood today.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. An odd smile passed across his lips. “You’re right.” He stood and stretched his legs. “I’m sorry. Miriam emailed me and asked for a rush on the last chapter. I stayed up late to finish the manuscript.”
“I can’t wait to see it, and give you my final decision,” she said with a smile. But Ian didn’t return her grin at the mention of their inside joke.
“I’ll go back to the hotel and print it off.”
She glanced down at the case he used to carry his laptop. “Why not print it off here? You can use mine.”
Ian shook his head. “I need to call my sister, too.”
She rolled to her feet. “In that case, I’ll walk you to the door.”
He turned toward her, his expression suddenly intense. “Let me take you out to celebrate. Champagne, the works.”
“That would be nice.”
He kissed her cheek, and shut the door behind him.
Something was wrong, and she had a good idea what it was. The book was complete. A dozen questions swirled around them. The one foremost in her mind…what happened next?
THE PHONE RANG JUST as Jeremy had scooped Miriam against his side. He loved holding her that way. With a reluctant kiss, she slipped out of bed.
She’d been receiving a lot of calls lately, mostly from work. She’d gone in this morning, but had taken the rest of the afternoon off, although a lot of calls were still being diverted her way.
“Hey, Ian.”
Jeremy recognized the name. Ian was her brother. The only family she spoke of. He watched as she tucked the phone between her head and shoulder and tugged on a robe. Her long, dark hair looked mussed, and curled down her back. All he could think about was the feel of her hair on his skin.
