Heat Waves

by Janelle Denison

  Minutes later, she settled in beside him again and whispered, "Take me back to your place and make love to me."

  ~ 8 ~

  IAN’S SIXTEENTH-FLOOR penthouse was like nothing Erica had ever seen or had the opportunity to experience in her lifetime. Spacious, elegant and decorated with expensive, richly textured furnishings, his home held every luxury a person could ever want or wish for. Including a breathtaking, million-dollar view of Grant Park and Chicago Harbor from the floor-to-ceiling windows in his living room.

  The men she'd dated had never come close to Ian's wealth and sophistication, and she was impressed with his success. And despite the independent, feminist attitude she had when it came to men, she couldn't deny that a part of her liked being swept off her feet and being romanced by Ian. But for as much as she enjoyed Ian's ability to make her feel special and cherished, she couldn't allow herself to get used to his lavish attention and pampering, because their affair was as temporary as the sexy city nights campaign they were involved in.

  She continued to gaze at the exquisite scenery as she waited for Ian to return from the back part of the penthouse, where he'd disappeared minutes after they'd arrived at his place. He'd excused himself, told her to make herself comfortable while he changed, yet she hadn't been able to sit for more than thirty seconds on his luxurious suede couch before jumping up and pacing to the window.

  She crossed her arms over her sensitive breasts and chewed on her thumbnail. Despite what happened in the limo and her bold request for Ian to bring her back to his place, she was glad for the brief reprieve. She was nervous all over again – this next step wasn't just about pleasuring Ian as it had been in the limo, but an intimate act that would strip bare her body and soul.

  No matter that she talked the sexy talk on her show, she'd never been the promiscuous type and she didn't take sex lightly. An affair with Ian wouldn't equate to frivolous sex as she'd once believed. Instead, having gotten to know him on an intimate, personal level, and truly liking the man he was, she feared making love with him would encompass something far more emotional than a satisfying romp in bed. The kind of feelings she'd steadfastly avoided, yet Ian had an effortless way of bringing to the surface with his mere presence, his touch, a glance.

  One of the lamps behind her clicked off, leaving the light from the marbled entryway as the only source of illumination in the house. She turned around and found Ian wearing a pair of gray cotton sweat shorts, and nothing else, which drew her gaze to all the bare parts of his athletically toned body. And there was plenty about him to admire, as she'd learned earlier.

  Reining in her fascination, she smiled. "You really have done well for yourself," she complimented, indicating with a wave of her hand the valuable artwork on the wall, the costly furnishings, and the home in which he lived.

  He shrugged modestly. "They're just things, Erica."

  Things that equaled success, she thought, all too aware of the fact that she'd yet to reach that level of accomplishment in her own career, that sense of satisfaction of making it big and on her own. She was close, closer than she'd ever been before – thanks to Ian.

  He spread his arms wide. "What you're looking at right now is the real Ian."

  She looked her fill once more of the down-to-earth, unpretentious man standing before her – his broad chest, flat belly, muscular thighs. And if she wasn't mistaken, he was semi-aroused beneath those thin cotton shorts he wore. "I do have to say that the real Ian is very appealing."

  An amused smile curved his lips. "I'm glad you think so."

  A familiar shiver of awareness coursed down the length of her spine as he slowly approached her from across the room.

  He stopped a few feet away from her and glanced around the room, seemingly taking in everything through her eyes. "I'll admit it's nice to be able to buy anything I might want, but these objects and this house aren't what's important to me." His warm gaze returned to hers. "I could be just as happy in a small house in the suburbs or even a modest apartment. I'm just very fortunate that I have a good job and that I've made wise investments and choices with my money and the people in my life."

  Unlike her, who'd made unwise choices, especially when it came to men. And even though she acknowledged that Ian was nothing like Paul in so many ways, she knew from their earlier conversation about Audrey that he was a natural born caretaker, a man who believed in traditional values, including protecting and caring for those closest to him. The kind of man she swore she didn't want or need in her life.

  He tipped his head, studying her too intently. "Having second thoughts about tonight and us?" he asked.

  He was so in tune to her, and she found it unnerving that he instinctively understood what she was thinking and feeling. She knew he'd respect her decision if she changed her mind, but she wanted this night with Ian, and she wasn't giving it up for anything. Not even for a case of nerves. She wanted tantalizing, sexy memories to take away with her, to keep her warm at night and to replace all the old memories.

  Making that conscious decision, she acted on it. Reaching out, she skimmed the tips of her fingers over the smooth, warm surface of his chest, reveling in the flex of muscle beneath her hand. "Is there such a thing as a premature orgasm for a woman?" she asked coyly, and when he lifted a brow in confusion, she explained. "After what happened in the limousine and considering how turned on I still am, I don't think I'm going to last very long once you strip me bare."

  Heat simmered in his gaze, making his eyes glitter like rare emeralds. "It's going to be a very long night, and since I haven't even begun to do all the things I want to do to your body, I'm thinking we ought to take the edge off your first orgasm so you don't come prematurely, since that seems to be your concern." His voice was low and teasing, his grin filled with humor, but his intentions were serious, she realized, when he gently turned her around to face the window again. His long, blunt fingers toyed with the straps on her dress. "This way, we'll be starting out even in the orgasm department before we get to the bedroom."

  Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, and desire flowed to every feminine nerve ending. With the lights off, she could see her reflection superimposed on the darkened glass, could feel the heat emanating from Ian standing behind her. "But I'm not naked," she said in breathless anticipation, reminding him of the stipulation he'd set.

  "You're not wearing any panties or a bra." Pulling the top of her dress down, he released her full, aching breasts. He fondled the plump flesh in his large hands and raked her sensitive nipples with his thumbs. "I'd say that's close enough for now."

  Biting back a moan, she arched more fully into his touch. "You're cheating?" she rasped.

  "If you'll remember correctly, I made up that rule about being completely naked the next time I give you an orgasm," he murmured huskily, then smoothed his palms leisurely downward to the hem of her dress. She closed her eyes and sighed as he inched the stretchy material up, until it bunched around her hips and she could feel the cool air in the room kiss her feverish, exposed skin and the moist curls between her thighs. "And because I made up the rule, it's my prerogative to cheat, sweetheart."

  She trembled, feeling that coiling tightness begin in her stomach and radiate outward, and wondered if she'd have an orgasm without him touching her at all. It was a novel thought, but at the moment she was so aroused she knew it was very possible.

  She attempted to turn toward him, but before she could execute the move he wrapped an arm around her waist, splayed a hand on her belly and drew her flush against his chest. His inflamed body scorched her, from her shoulders all the way down to her thighs. His erection pressed insistently against her bottom through his shorts, and she quivered at the thought of him removing that thin barrier and taking her just as they were.

  But Ian had pure, seductive foreplay in mind. "I want you to watch this time, Erica." He nudged her legs apart with his knee, opening and preparing her for his caress. "Look in the window in front of us," he said, his words effectively d
rawing her gaze to the lush, wanton display that was her, and the large hand he pressed high on her thigh that was sliding toward the heat and heart of her. "Watch me touching you and your response to my touch."

  Entranced by the eroticism and decadence of the act, she watched, and moaned in unadulterated ecstasy as his long fingers separated the dewy folds of her femininity and stroked the slick, swollen nub of flesh hidden there. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, and she gripped his thighs for support. Her hips jerked forward, encouraging his questing fingers, desperate for more pressure, more friction, more depth. Gradually he gave her all three, making her pant shamelessly and eliciting a liquid rush of desire that made him groan, long and loud.

  "God, you're so wet, so hot," he said, his voice a low rumble of sound that vibrated against her back while his lips and tongue found the soft hollow under her ear. "Let it go and come for me, Erica."

  That easily she did, welcoming the deep, intense, rippling contractions buffeting her body. With a high-pitched cry and his name on her lips, she let him know that he thrilled her like no other. Her knees buckled when it was over, and she was grateful for his hold on her or else she would have dropped to the floor.

  He removed his fingers and nuzzled the side of her neck. "There, now we can move this to the bedroom, without any worry that you'll come prematurely."

  Hearing the satisfaction in his tone, she laughed lightly. "Umm, I'm definitely more relaxed and less tense."

  "Good, because I'm not done having my way with you." He scooped her up into his strong embrace, and she gasped in surprise and latched her arms around his neck as he started out of the living room.

  "Wait, my purse," she said, and he bent low so she could grab it off the couch. She smiled sheepishly at him as he continued down a long hallway. "I brought condoms."

  "Lots of them, I hope." He carried her through double French doors into his enormous master bedroom, which also had floor-to-ceiling windows and the same stunning view as the living room.

  She took in the huge, high four-poster bed in dark mahogany, illuminated by the soft lamplight on the nightstand. "Yep, and different textures, flavors, scents and sizes."

  He placed her gently on the middle of the mattress, but remained standing by the side of the bed. "Sounds like we're going to be very busy tonight." He pulled off her shoes and let both drop to the carpeted floor. "Pick one for me."

  While she blindly reached into her purse beside her on the bed and retrieved the first packet her fingers came into contact with, Ian skimmed his palms up one leg and grasped the lacy band of her stocking. He removed the piece of lingerie, then the other, making Erica burn and ache anew, which she found amazing considering the incredible orgasm she'd just had. Finally, he dragged her dress over her hips, down her long limbs, and tossed the material somewhere behind him.

  "Aah, naked at last." He looked his fill, his appreciative gaze licking across her skin in a hot, velvet caress that found and devoured every feminine, intimate swell and curve.

  "Except for you." Feeling at a distinct disadvantage, she sat up and slipped her hands into the waistband of his shorts and pushed the material down, until it fell to his ankles and he stepped out of them. He was fully aroused, long and hard and pulsing with virile life. Her womb clenched in anticipation of finally feeling all that aggressive male length deep inside her, stretching her, filling her to completion…

  He reached out to pluck the condom from her hand, and she moved it out of his reach. "Let me," she whispered, wanting to do to him what she'd never done for another man. Another first she wanted to experience with him. She tore open the package, and a rich, fruity scent filled the air.

  Ian sniffed, then cocked his head curiously. "Is that … bananas I smell?"

  Erica laughed softly. "Yeah, it is." Removing the condom, she slowly, playfully sheathed him in the snug, fragrant latex, then bent low and swirled her tongue along the plump tip. "And you taste just as good."

  A low, harsh groan escaped him, and he tangled his fingers in her hair to stop her sensual assault. Easing her back on the bed, he moved beside her, capturing her mouth in a slow, delicious kiss that made her restless and built a greater urgency to join with him. But he seemed in no hurry to end all their provocative foreplay. Her fingers twisted in his hair as his lips moved on, scattering moist, lingering kisses over her jaw, along her throat, her breasts and belly.

  And then he shifted, pressing her knees apart with his broad shoulders so he could settle in between. He slid close, hooking her legs over his biceps as he went, spreading her wide and pinning her hips to the mattress so she couldn't move. He dipped his dark head, and his hot, damp breath brushed along the most intimate part of her.

  Startled to find herself in a position that gave Ian total control and left her completely vulnerable to him and his whims, she pushed at his shoulders, holding him at bay.

  "Ian?" her voice trembled with uncertainties. She'd never felt so exposed, and she was taken off guard by all the new and illicit sensations she was experiencing.

  Gently, he grasped her hands, and weaving their fingers tightly together he locked her arms at her sides, rendering her immobile. He placed a delicate bite on the inside of her thigh that made her gasp, then soothed the sting with his tongue.

  "I have to taste you," he groaned desperately.

  He said the words as if he'd die if he didn't, and she couldn't refuse him because she was beginning to feel the same way … hungry for his mouth on her, wild for the caress of his tongue, desperate for yet another release.

  He wasted no time with teasing preliminaries. Pressing his open mouth against her, he glided his tongue upward in a deep, full-bodied stroke as slow and hot and erotic as a French kiss. Her entire body shuddered as he licked and suckled her as if she were the sweetest nectar he'd ever tasted. His tongue swirled, flicked, ravished, then thrust deep, but not deep enough when she felt so empty inside.

  She tried to tug her hands free to pull him closer, but he held tight. She moaned and thrashed and heard herself beg. Heat and desire flared bright. Pleasure glowed and beckoned. Her thighs quivered from being restrained, and the sharp, spiraling need expanded within her as he continued his ruthless quest to savor, to feast, to send her over the edge.

  And then she tumbled mindlessly and all she could do was cry out and arch her body, and let the explosive contractions consume her. Once the aftershocks receded, he reared up and released her hands, then lifted her left leg and crisscrossed it over his opposite thigh, bending her knee back toward her to give him greater access. Limp and boneless, she let him do as he pleased, completely trusting him with her body. He rubbed the tip of his swollen penis against her slick flesh, and with a flex of his hips he buried himself to the hilt.

  He groaned in pleasure, and her breath hitched at the force and pressure and depth of his invasion, then released on a ragged moan. And then he moved over her completely, gathering her close and tilting her hips up to meet his slow thrust as he braced one arm near her head so that his fingers tangled in her hair, and rested his other palm over her breast.

  Though she felt him pulse and throb where they joined, he grew still, and stared searchingly into her eyes. "Are you okay?"

  Her heart turned over in her chest when she realized he was holding back for her, making sure she was comfortable and that he wasn't hurting her. While this man claimed to be traditional at the very core, she discovered that Ian was unpredictable in the bedroom, and an expert, innovative lover that took her to new heights. The sexual position he'd maneuvered her into was not only erotic and exciting, it allowed him the tightest fit and deepest penetration, all the way to her soul, it seemed.

  A surge of unexpected tenderness welled up in her. With trembling fingers, she lightly traced his jaw and dragged her thumb across his full bottom lip, still wet from her. "I like this position," she told him with a smile. "A lot."

  "We're a perfect fit," he said, and a part of her wondered if he was talking about more than
just the interlocking of their bodies.

  And then the thought drifted out of her mind as he began to move – strong, powerful thrusts that ignited the same raging fire within her that she saw flickering in his dark, sensual eyes. His breathing grew harsh, his jaw clenched from restraint. But she didn't want him holding back for her; she wanted his wild, uninhibited surrender.

  Coasting her flattened palms down the taut muscles bisecting his back, she clenched his buttocks in her hands. Rocking against him rhythmically, she urged him further, higher, harder. The friction they created was exquisite, a slow building wave of pleasure that consumed them both and sent her careening over the precipice first. With a low, guttural growl, he closed his eyes, tossed his head back and gave into his own shattering release.

  Once he caught his breath, he lowered his head and kissed her, slowly, deeply, tenderly, conveying exactly how he felt with that show of intimacy. How much he desired her. How much he cared. And despite all that had come before, he made her tremble all over again, made her want the impossible, made her need more than was wise.

  And for tonight, she knew she'd greedily take everything he had to offer.

  *

  ERICA GRADUALLY WOKE the following morning with a long, slow, languorous stretch, a sleepy yawn, and a contented smile on her lips. She'd never meant to stay the entire night, but Ian had been very persuasive, and she hadn't been able to resist his tempting means of coercion.

  Rolling to her side, she let her lashes drift open … and was disappointed to discover she was all alone in Ian's huge bed. Especially since she wanted him yet again – even after a night of the most incredible lovemaking she'd ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

  There were four empty condom wrappers somewhere, attesting to their night of wickedness, lust and the mutual desire they'd slaked. Her belly grew warm with recollections of how eager and insatiable she'd been, an enthusiastic partner to anything and everything Ian had in mind. He'd taken her in fun and playful ways, and in more erotic, uninhibited positions that might have shocked her at first, but had ultimately thrilled her. The man was an adept, generous, earthy lover – one who now knew her body more intimately than any other man in her past. And he'd been just as willing to let her have her way with him. Their lovemaking had been equal measures of give and take, and it was a novelty and freedom she'd enjoyed.