Everything You Are (19 page)

“That's good to hear.” He couldn't stop smiling. His thumb caressed the side of her neck before he leaned over her and entangled her in another long kiss. Love for her coursed through his veins, filling him until he was overflowing with it. It was too much, almost painful, but so good. So good. He leaned his forearm on the pillow beside her, while his mouth moved away from hers and he shifted slightly backwards so that he could stare at her glowing face.

She smiled at him with a smile that not only lit her face but set up a strange vibration in his chest. It was so beautiful that he wanted to imprint it on his mind.

“I have you now.” Her and her heart. His hand caressed her cheek. “There's no way I'm ever letting you go.”

She swallowed and a shaky chuckle escaped her throat. “That sounds so final.”

His lips drew a wet trail over her cheek to her ear. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Forever.

Her hands curled around his shoulders.

“I want to make love to you, so badly.” His mouth pressed a small kiss on the spot behind her ear before he shifted onto his side, beside her. With his hand still on the back of her neck, his thumb caressing the skin in a circular motion, he took big gulps of air, reining in the lust that was suffocating him and made his flesh strain painfully against the fabric of his underwear. “I want our first time to be special.”

“This is not going to be the first time.” Redness spilled across the bridge of her nose as she lowered her gaze to her stomach.

“It is for me, sort of.”

She rolled onto her side, facing him, and snuggled closer. Her hand slid over his chest and her eyelids lowered seductively before she leaned her forehead against his shoulder.

He covered her hand with his. “You shouldn't tempt me like that or my self-control might snap.”

“But I want your self-control to snap,” she said in a low voice. Her hand slipped from under his and glided down his abdomen.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing, while all of his focus was on the touch of her fingers, now dangerously near his groin. “Your wish is my command.”

The air in the room was heavy and suffocating and it made every breath Jane took more laboured. With her eyes closed, her hands gripped folds of the sheet, while her body twisted under the assault of Ian's kisses and caresses. She couldn't think and she couldn't breathe, while an explosion of sensation coursed through her body.

Ian's touch withdrew.

Her eyes opened and in the diluted light of the dawn she lost herself in the intensity of his ice-blue gaze

“Sweet little Jane.” He set his forearms on each side of her head and lowered, wiggling his hips between her legs. Something hard pressed against her.

She gasped. He had been playing with her body for what seemed like hours, making her world shake and her soul tremble. If that was foreplay, how would she be able to take the real thing?

He shifted his weight onto one arm, while he lifted her leg with his free hand and spread it wider before he hooked it around his hip. “I love you,” he whispered before he closed the distance between them and entangled her in a kiss. His hardness pushed into her.

Her arms wrapped around his wide shoulders. She held onto him while he filled her, the friction teasing her tender flesh almost painfully. It was just too much, too much. Her nails dug into his skin and her lips moved away from his. “Stop,” she breathed out.

He froze about her. “What?” His breath was laboured. “Am I hurting you? Am I too heavy?”

She swallowed, her hand sliding over the damp skin on his back. “No.”

“You said ‘stop.’”

“Did I?” Her voice was breathless and low.

“Oh, Jane.” He chuckled and smoothed the hair that was sticking to her temples and forehead away, his jaw locked as if he was having trouble controlling himself. When he spoke, his voice slightly shook. “I don't think that I can stop right now. I mean, I will, but don't make me do it, please.”

“It's too much.” She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “It's just... too overwhelming. I don't know if I can take it anymore.”

“I'll make sure you can take it. I'll be gentle.” His forearms went under her back, his elbows just beside her hips, his hands cupping her neck. He moved.

A soft moan left her mouth. Her eyes closed and she tightened her hold on him. The roll of his hips was gentle and soft, but the friction against her tender flesh and the tension between their slick bodies... It made her arch under him, it made her bend her legs and meet him halfway. He was in love with her, he said. He loved her, he whispered to her, over and over again, telling her how special she was, while his hands glided over her body, exposing her skin, caressing it, every curve and dip. “I love you,” she more moaned than said.

The strength of his plunges increased and his hand gripped her hip, while with other he tilted her head and pressed his mouth against hers.

Her lips opened up to the pressure of his tongue and it slid inside, seducing her, making her gasp and moan into his mouth. She was drowning, in the bliss of his touch, in the raw pleasure that was twirling inside her, higher and higher with every slide of his tongue, with each one of his plunges. She could feel it... the fall, as she balanced herself high under the sky. All she needed was a graze of his finger, or another of his thrusts, to drive into her just the right way. Then she was there, swinging in silver light, her toes curled, her mouth opened in a silent cry. It was too much, it was just too much.

His hand held her hip firmly as he drove into her a few more times before he froze deep inside her. His forehead against hers, with his hand still on the back of her neck, he held her close against him.

She could feel his strong, rushed heartbeats against her heaving chest. It was beating in unison with hers as it slowed down, breath by breath.

He slid out of her, then moved onto his back, taking her with him. His hand readjusted her position, so that she half-lay on his chest, her leg over his. He pulled the covers over them.

She glanced at the window where greyish light poured through the glass before she lifted her eyes to his. “It's already morning.”

“Yes, it is.” He ran his fingers through her hair then down her neck.

“I should get up.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Was this where I am supposed to say, ‘your wish is my command’?” She smiled up at him.

“No, but I would appreciate if you did.” He mirrored her smile.

She stared up at him, enchanted. He was so gorgeous looking, with his blond hair a mess and a smile that shone brighter than the sun. He had said that he was in love with her. She still could hardly believe it. He was in love with her. She, the flat-chested brunette. She, who Mark liked to teasingly call a tomboy without style. “Ian.”

“Yes?” He kissed the top of her head.

“Why did you fall in love with me?”

“Hmm.” He pinched his eyebrows together and his fingers absently stroked the nape of her neck.

“Don't you know?”

“I do know. It's because of you, of who you are.”

“Who am I?”

“You're this amazing and wonderful girl, and so beautiful.”

He thought that she was beautiful?

He pressed a kiss on her forehead. “And smart and very resourceful and sometimes very bossy.”

“I'm not bossy.” She rolled onto her belly and leaned her forearms on his chest, elbows splayed out, her chin resting on the backs of her hands. “You're the one who's bossy.”

“Maybe a little, sometimes.” He flicked her nose. “But you love me anyway, right? Because I'm a big
sexy
oaf.”

She had said that to him, hadn’t she? She hid her face against his chest. “Yes.”

“You know what's sexy too?”

“What?” she asked without lifting her head.

“That pink shirt you like to sleep in.” His fingers grazed the side of her neck.

“Huh?” She looked him.

A naughty smile upturned his lips. “It's sexy. You should wear it more often, like every day. Without underwear, of course.”

She shook her head and snuggled against his chest. “Men.”

He chuckled.

#

“Don't go.” With his arm around Jane's waist, Ian tightened the grip he had on her, and pressed his mouth against the side of her neck. “Don't go.”

“It's Mark.” She leaned into the touch of his mouth, sighing. They had been sitting on the couch in the living room, her in his lap, watching
Pride and Prejudice
. She couldn't claim to have followed what was happening on the screen, too preoccupied with Ian's hard chest against her side, the hand that stroked her back and soft kisses that Ian pressed on her neck every few minutes. “We invited him here and asked him to go to grocery shopping so that we could cook lunch together.”

The doorbell rang again.

“We should give him a key.” Ian's hand brushed against the side of her breast.

A small shiver shook her body and warmth lingering in the pit of her stomach heated up. For a short second she closed her eyes before she pushed herself away from him. “I'll be right back.”

He caught her hand, lifted it and pressed a kiss on her palm, while his ice-blue eyes burned into her. “You’d better be.”

“Stop doing that.” She pulled her hand out of his hold. “You are making me...” All tingly.

“What?” A smirk embellished his face. It was as if he knew how his touch affected her.

The phone on her table started to ring.

By the melody she knew that it was Mark. She shook her head, averted her gaze from Ian, and moved away from him, knowing if she didn't Mark would be left standing outside the door. She walked into the hallway. “I'm coming.” She unlocked the heavy door and opened it.

“Finally.” Mark pushed his way inside, carrying a grocery bag. “What took you so long?”

“He did,” she whispered as she tilted her head in direction of the couch. She closed the door.

“Ian?” Mark smiled.

“Yes.” She turned and strolled toward the door that led into the kitchen.

“So you finally flashed your ass at him?” Mark asked her in a low voice.

“No. Shall I help you carry that?” She reached out to grab the bag Mark carried.

Mark shifted the bag out of her reach. “What, then?”

“He came back from his night on the town slightly tipsy and determined to talk.” She stopped before the kitchen door. “He told me that he's a man and that men have needs.”

“And he expects you to fill that need? You didn't, right? Just because you two are living together.” Mark's eyes darkened as they went to the living room and the couch. “That bastard,” he hissed in a whisper. “And I had such a high opinion of him.” His voice rose. “I'm going to tell him some --”

With her hand, Jane covered Mark's mouth. “It was not like that. He said that he only wants me and that he's in love with me, has been since Italy.”

Mark's pupils widened. “Really?” he mumbled through Jane's fingers.

Jane nodded and withdrew her hand.

“Are you two talking about me behind my back?” Ian stood up from the couch and faced them.

“Yes.” Mark nodded, grinning. “Are you two an item now?”

Ian walked to Jane and pulled her into a half-embrace. “Yes. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all.” Mark pushed the kitchen door open. “I'm happy for you two. That probably means that I'll have to find myself a new flat-mate, huh?”

“I guess so.” Jane wrinkled her forehead and pressed her lips together. Until now, she had regarded her moving in with Ian as something temporary. She loved this handsome, sexy hulk of a man and she would like to make a family with him, but... This was all so new; her moving in and their love. She didn't know Ian; well, she did, his business side, and his playful, friendly side, the one that had made her fall in love with him, but she didn't know anything about how he handled his relationships. No, actually she did, she had seen how he got rid of that stylist. Oh, yes, he was nice to Amanda, but he dismissed her so easily, so quickly. If he had done that to that girl, what was going to stop him from doing that to her?

“What is it?” Ian's fingers trailed up her spine to cup the back of her neck.

“Nothing.” Her hand went to her belly. Ian had said that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And she was going to have a baby, his baby. The baby was what was going to stop him from doing the same to her. Even if he one day got sick of her, she would still have a part of him with her, in their child. She smiled, wrapped her arm around his middle and leaned on him. “It's nothing.”

“Are you certain?” Ian buried his fingers in her hair.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I'm hungry. Are you two going to just stand there or can we get cooking?”

“Lead the way, my lady.” Mark bowed and waved toward the kitchen.

“What are we going to make?” With his arm around her shoulders, Ian guided her to the kitchen.

She slid out of his embrace. “You're not going to make anything.” She pointed at the window seat at the end of the kitchen. “You’d better sit down so you won't get in a way.”

“But I don't want to.” He glued himself against her back and his arms went around her waist, while he leaned his chin on her shoulder. “I want to stick close to you,” he whispered in her ear. “Just in case, so that you don't run away.”

For a short moment Jane leaned back against him, enjoying his male scent and the warmth of his body. “I have no intention of running away.”

Mark passed them and set the bag on the counter. “If you two plan to have a make-out session, you’d better move to the living room -- or better yet, your bedroom -- and give me space to cook.”

“Okay, let's go,” Ian said, his voice light and laced with laughter. He started to gently push her toward the passage between the wall and the counter that divided the kitchen from the dining area.

“Don't be ridiculous.” Hiding a smile, Jane elbowed him.

“Ouch, that hurts, you know.” Ian turned her in his arms.

“Yeah, right, you didn’t even feel it.” With lowered eyelids, she scrutinised his face.

He grinned before he bent over her. He pressed a kiss on her nose and she thought that his mouth would then descend onto her lips, but he released her and moved to the seat. He sat down on the pillows scattered there, and made himself comfortable by fluffing up a few cushions behind his back, before he reclined on them. “So, what are you two going to make?”

“Mark?” Jane glanced at the brunet.

“Potato salad and fried hake fillets.” Mark pulled the bag down, exposing the items in it before he started to set them on the counter.

“How does that sound?” Jane asked Ian.

“I would prefer meat. I'm a passionate carnivore,” Ian said. “But fish is okay too, as long as I don't have to eat it every day. I guess I have to peel the potatoes?”

“You don't have to,” Mark said.

“But I want to.”

“I'll help you.” Jane gave Ian a smile before she went to take out a pot and a pan and other things she thought Mark would need.