An Indecent Longing (5 page)

“Nothing’s going on. Not a damn thing because I can’t let it.”

“Why?”

Ian shook his head. If he told Ben…

“Look, you’re not wrong, okay? I want her.” His jaw clenched. “You see her. She’s hot. I want to fuck her until I can’t see straight but… There’s just too much baggage. And not all of it’s mine.”

Ben took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. Then I’ll take her home.”

Ian should’ve said yes immediately. “How much did she drink?”

“Not enough to make her pass out. I think the stress and the fatigue just caught up with her.”

Ian took another deep breath and then another. And made a really bad decision. “Leave her. Blank’ll have my ass if I let her go home like this.”

Ben’s gaze sharpened. “How well do you know her bodyguard?”

“Well enough to know if he’s incapacitated, he’d want someone he trusts watching her back.”

“And he trusts you.” Ben stopped as if waiting for an explanation, and when Ian didn’t provide one, Ben sighed and shook his head. “Why the hell does she need a bodyguard anyway? Who is she?”

Not a question he wanted to answer right now, but Ben needed to know who he’d gotten himself wrapped up with. “She’s Antonoff’s pet physician.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “
Fuck.
Seriously?”

“You think I’d lie about that?”

Ben’s gaze snapped back through the door. “No, it’s just…
Shit.
Well, that explains a hell of a lot. When did you find out? Before or after you slept with her?”

Ian shook his head. “I haven’t slept with her.”

“But you considered it. Before you knew.” Ben snagged his gaze again. “
Christ.
I fucked this up royally, didn’t I?”

Ian shook his head. “No. No, this is me being an ass. I’ll…sleep downstairs. You did the right thing. Just…make sure she gets home tomorrow.”

Eyebrows raised, Ben stared at him. “You don’t want to take her?”

Fuck, yes.
“No. She probably doesn’t want to see me anyway.”

Ben huffed. “Yeah, right. You obviously don’t see the way she looks at you.”

How?
“She thinks I’m a prick.”

“No, she really doesn’t.”

Ian couldn’t stop himself from looking back into his room. She still lay curled under the quilt his grandmother had made for him twenty years ago. All alone in that big bed.

She shouldn’t be alone.

And he shouldn’t be standing here watching her sleep. He should do what he’d said, go downstairs. Away from her.

So why the hell couldn’t he do it?

Behind him, he heard Ben sigh. “I’m going to bed. Don’t…make any rash decisions.”

Ian wanted to growl. “I’d never hurt her.”

“I don’t think that. But Ian… maybe you’re punishing her for the wrong damn reason.”

Ian didn’t see Ben walk away but he heard his cousin’s footsteps on the stairs going up to his suite.

And when he finally heard the door at the top of the steps close, effectively shutting Ben upstairs, he leaned against the doorjamb and watched her breathe.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but it was long enough for his thigh to give a twinge. He’d taken a bullet there a few years ago. It didn’t usually give him trouble but if he stood in one place long enough, it let him know it was time to move.

So he took a step inside the room.

Wrong way, asshole.

Except it didn’t feel like the wrong way. His lungs actually felt a little looser, like he could get more oxygen. The weight on his shoulders lightened.

And his fingers twitched with the need to touch her.

He didn’t give in to that urge. Instead, he forced himself to head for the chair by the window. Turning it slightly so he could watch her, he sprawled into it, propping his elbow on the arm and setting his chin in his hands.

She looked so much younger asleep. Not that twenty-seven was old but right now she looked like a teenager. The fact that he knew she wasn’t… Shit, that just made his dick harder.

And hearing Ben say she still wanted him… He felt like she’d wrapped one of those slim hands around his erection and began a tight pump.

Are you seriously going to sit here and watch her sleep?

He shouldn’t because with each passing second it became that much harder to leave.

He wanted to sit on the edge of the bed and weave his fingers through her hair and let the soft strands brush against his skin. Wanted to run his thumb over her lips and feel the rush of her breath.

Yeah, he had it bad.

He’d thought he had this longing for her controlled.

Apparently not.

Didn’t change a damn thing between them, though. He shouldn’t be anywhere near her feeling the way he did. Because it didn’t change the facts.

She worked for a man he despised. A man Ian would gladly shoot down like a rabid dog. The man who’d killed Ian’s father.

And still, here he sat, watching her sleep like a man obsessed.

Had Ben been right? Did she still want him?

He thought back to the first time they’d met at that hospital fund-raiser. They’d talked for hours. She’d told him how she hated fund-raisers but she needed to talk up the board members here for money for the clinic where she volunteered.

He hadn’t known then that she was the granddaughter of one of the board members, that she was a Society Hill socialite with a medical degree.

He’d been as close to a street rat as he could’ve been growing up. Without their grandmother to take care of them, Ian and Ben would’ve ended up in the system or homeless. And Grammy had barely had enough to keep both boys fed and clothed.

As it was, Ian had ended up working on the gray side of the law more often than he could remember. At the time, it hadn’t mattered. It’d only mattered that they’d had money to eat and pay the bills. Then he’d gone into the service and left that life behind.

How the hell did this woman manage to look so fucking innocent when she worked for the head of the Philly Russian crime family?

The sheets rustled as she shifted, curling more tightly into herself, a quiet whimper that hit him somewhere in the center of his chest.

Was she worried about Blank? He knew she cared for him. He’d seen the way she smiled at him, the way she looked at him. Not the way she’d looked at Ian, with heat and fire. No, she looked at Blank with the affection of a sister.

According to Ben, she’d operated on Blank herself. That had to have fucked with her head.

For Christ’s sake, don’t be a prick. Just do it.

His jaw tight, he pushed off the chair to kneel on the bed beside her. When she didn’t wake, he stretched out on his side behind her, wrapped one arm around her waist, and pulled her tight against him.

After several long seconds, where he held his breath waiting for her to realize who’d crawled into bed beside her, he relaxed enough take a deep breath. And another.

With each one, he drew her scent into his lungs. She wasn’t wearing perfume but he detected something lightly floral. Fresh. Enticing.

Because he really wasn’t a decent guy, he shifted until he could press his aching erection against her lower back.

With a slight sigh, she wriggled against him, making his cock thicken even more.

Fuck.

Resting his chin on top of her head, Ian closed his eyes and resigned himself to a painful case of blue balls.

And since he knew he shouldn’t be here when she woke, he probably shouldn’t fall asleep.

It was going to be a long night.

* * * * *

Dorrie woke with a start, heart racing, fight-or-flight instinct in high gear.

The room was pitch black but she knew she wasn’t at home.

Why wasn’t she at home? What—

“Shh. You’re fine.”

A familiar voice in her ear and the night came back in a rush. Seeing Ian. Dinner with Risa. Shots fired. Helping the injured. Blank getting shot. Ben…

Were those his arms wrapped around her now?

Shit, she’d gone home with him, drank too much, and now…

Oh my god. What the hell did I do?

Panic made her heart race even faster and she could barely breathe.

She needed to leave. Now. Had to go before—

“Dorrie.”

The arms around her tightened. And that was not Ben’s voice.

“Breathe.”

Her lungs froze.

That voice.

No, it couldn’t be him. Her brain was playing tricks on her. That had to be Ben. She combed through her memories. Had they had sex? She couldn’t remember—

“Dorrie, you’re going to pass out. You need to breathe.”

The command in his voice pissed her off but it also caused her to suck in air.

“Ian?”

A rough sigh behind her, his breath ruffling her hair.

“
Shh.
Calm down. You’re safe.”

Safe? Had she been in danger? Was she in danger now? Why the hell was he in a bed with her?

Was she still dreaming?

Nothing seemed real at the moment. It was so dark, she couldn’t see anything and she still felt a little woozy. Drunk.

She remembered drinking with Ben.

A dream. This had to be a dream.

There was no way Ian would be here, in a bed, his arms around her, trying to calm her down.

Her heart rate began to ease back and her lungs loosened enough for her to take a deep breath.

Definitely a dream.

“Good. Now go back to sleep. It’s too damn early.”

Her lips curved in a smile. That sounded like Ian. At least, it sounded like the man she’d known before he’d cut her out of his life with brutal efficiency and left her heart bleeding for weeks.

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to relax into his dream arms, knowing this was the only time she ever got to spend with him. She hadn’t had a dream about him in…oh, at least a week.

Pitiful.

Yeah, but now that she was, she might as well take full advantage of it.

Lifting one hand to the arm he had curled around her waist, she rubbed her palm against his bare skin.

Now it was his turn to freeze as she let her fingernails lightly scrape his skin. Goosebumps rose on his arm and she thrilled to know she had an effect on him, even if it was only in her dreams.

Sighing, she wiggled her butt even closer, feeling the heat of his thighs under hers and the hard ridge of his erection nestled at the top of her ass.

“Dorrie.”

His voice held a deep rasp, a growl that made her own flesh pebble and nipples tighten until they poked against her thin cotton shirt.

She really wished her Dream Ian would put his hands under her shirt and squeeze her breasts, play with her nipples.

Oh hell, she might as well just wish for him to roll her over, strip her naked, and fuck her hard and fast.

Sighing, she snuggled even closer and lifted his hand to her breast.

Screw it. It was her dream, might as well enjoy it.

“Dorrie.”

Now he sounded hoarse, as if he was having trouble with his own breathing. Why couldn’t the real man be more like her dream?

“Wouldn’t that be nice?”

A few seconds of silence.

“Wouldn’t
what
be nice?”

She sighed. “If you actually cared about me in real life. I don’t know what happened. Don’t know what I did to make you hate me.”

A pause. “I don’t hate you.”

He’d spoken so low she almost hadn’t heard him. Her brain probably playing more tricks on her.

“That’d be nice if it were true. Too bad you’re just a dream.”

He snorted. “I’m no dream.”

“You are right now. And since this is my dream…”

She rolled over to face him, her hands smacking against his chest. Flattening her palms against the strong muscles she felt beneath his shirt, she stroked upward until she reached his jaw. The stubble felt like rough silk against her palms. He didn’t typically have stubble, was almost always clean-shaven.

She liked it. She imagined the five o’clock shadow would make him look a little more dangerous. More like the man he really was. Not the one he pretended to be.

His hands moved to her hips, fingers digging into her hips. Not enough to hurt, just enough to keep her still.

“You don’t want to do this.”

Now he sounded dangerous and she liked that even better.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.”

Leaning forward, the dream giving her carte blanche to do what she couldn’t in real life, she put her lips against his and kissed him. And because this was a dream, their mouths aligned perfectly, as if they’d planned it, practiced it. Did it every day, several times a day.

She moaned as she tasted him for the first time, his lips firm against her. Tilting her head to get an even better angle, she opened her mouth and let her tongue swipe across his lips.

Groaning, he tightened his arms around her and his hips thrust against hers to rub his hard cock against her mound. Grinding against her, he made her sex clench and her labia slick. Every muscle in her body tensed with incredible need, months of pent-up desire acting like gasoline to flame.

For a few wonderful seconds, his lips parted and he allowed her tongue to sweep into his mouth, to tangle with his tongue. She felt the incredible restraint he was using to keep himself in line and kissed him harder to make him slip that leash.

She wanted him to be just as wild for her as she was for him. After all, this was her fantasy.

Sliding her fingers through his hair, she rasped her fingernails against his scalp then tugged on the strands he kept short but still long enough to show a curl.

Barely able to breathe, she had to pull away to suck in air but he only let her go for a few seconds before he covered her mouth with his again and devoured her.

His hunger evident now, she let him take over. Let his lips force hers wider so his tongue could ravage her mouth and steal her breath.

She gave herself over to him, every muscle in her body under his command.

But just as soon as she’d done that, he pulled away.

“
Fuck.
Dorrie. Stop.”

She still couldn’t see him and she mentally tried to flip a switch so she could shed some light on this dream. But her subconscious wasn’t cooperating so she clasped her hands to his cheeks to try to force him back to kissing her.