I bat his cheek playfully, my previous tears forgotten. “I don’t want to know what you’ve got up to with other women,” I scold.
“Of course. How un-gentlemanly of me to allude to it,” says James. He moves his hand to the top of my legs. I feel myself quiver.
“Please accept my apologies,” he says.
“Accepted,” I whisper.
He’s staring at me intensely now.
“What I mean,” he says, “is that I have never made love. Not to someone I’m in love with. Not to someone like you.”
I blink at him, surprised by the sudden turn in conversation.
“What do you mean?” I ask, swallowing a little.
“I mean that I want to make love to you, if you’ll let me.”
The question is so unexpected, I am hardly prepared for the kiss that comes next.
It takes me into some other place, where only James and I exist. He moves his lips gently against mine, and I feel his heartbeat, his skin on mine.
“Issy,” his whispers, keeping his mouth close.
“Yes?” My voice comes slow, drugged with the pleasure of kissing him.
“Show me how to make love to you.”
“What do you mean?”
He moves so he’s positioned resting over me.
“Show me what you like,” he says.
“I… I don’t know how to show you.”
He’s so experienced. Is he really asking me this?
“Don’t worry about what you don’t know,” says James, sensing my uncertainty. “Just feel it. Feel what you’d like me to do, and tell me.”
He kisses my mouth and runs his hands down the sides of my body.
“Do you like me here? On top of you?”
I think about this for a moment, battling to overcome my embarrassment of talking about it. “Yes.”
“What do you like about it?”
This throws me.
What do I like about it?
“I like that your weight is on me,” I say slowly. “It makes me feel protected.”
He thinks about this and wraps his arms tighter around me, circling my back.
Mmmmm
. That’s nice.
“Does this make you feel more protected too?”
“Yes.”
“How do you want me to make you wet?”
What a question!
I feel myself blushing.
James kisses my lips again. “Don’t be shy. I want to know. Shall I use my hands? Or my mouth?”
This, at least, is easier to answer.
“Your hands,” I say. “Then I can see your face.”
“That’s important to you?”
“Yes.”
James nods. “I’m still learning, Issy, how to best please you. I might not get it completely right at first. If I don’t, you have to tell me.”
He’s trying so hard to please me
. I am touched, almost to the point of tears.
Then I feel his hand slide between my legs, and the feelings twist to instant desire.
“You’re wet already,” he murmurs.
“I… like it when you kiss me,” I admit.
“That’s enough to get you wet? Just that?”
“Yes.”
James looks as though he’s understanding something profound.
“Wow,” he says, after a moment. It’s such an uncharacteristically informal word for him, that I smile.
“I mean it,” he says. “I can get you wet just by kissing you. It makes me feel… powerful.”
“That’s love for you,” I reply.
James considers this.
“Yes,” he says slowly. “Yes, I suppose so.”
He slides his hand down further and begins working me softly with his fingers.
“
Oooohhh…” I hear myself moan with pleasure. His fingers are so adept.
“So, then,” whispers James. “I presume that if my hand is here, and I kiss you…”
He leans forward, taking me in a deep, passionate kiss.
The two sensations at once are like heaven. I feel myself floating on a golden wave of pleasure, jolting me up and up.
“Mmmmm.” I moan his name and feel my legs beginning to shake beneath him.
“Steady,” he whispers, pulling away, and slowing the movements of his hand. “I don’t want you to come just yet.”
He leans to the side of the bed, opening a foil packet. Then he slides off his boxer shorts, and in a moment, he’s rolling a condom onto himself.
He kisses my mouth gently.
Then he moves his hands down to take my hips.
“I’d love to have my mouth back down here, soon,” he murmurs, looking into my eyes, and stroking again with his hand.
I feel myself tightening at his touch.
Then, very slowly, he pushes himself gradually into me. I feel every inch of him, and I draw in a breath. It’s incredible.
“Show me,” he whispers, “show me with your hands how fast you want me to move.”
I hesitate.
“Show me,” he says. “I want to know what you like.”
I take hold of his hips and begin moving him. A slow, steady rhythm.
“Like this.” I say, shyly, letting my hands fall away from his hips and fold around his body.
“I love you, Issy,” he whispers. “I love you.”
His green eyes are falling into mine.
“I love you too.” It’s so hard to say the words, with the sensations he’s creating in me. But I feel them with every cell in my body.
He moves gently inside of me, and I feel myself open utterly to him. We are one person, moving in slow rhythmic time, our eyes joined.
He kisses me, and my boundaries dissolve completely. And then I feel him build, as though he was part of my own body, and the feeling becomes mine.
“Oh, Issy,” he whispers, rocking me softly with his hips, “this is so different.”
He raises himself, just slightly, moving the pressure of where his body meets mine. And now the length of him is stroking my clitoris as well as inside me.
I am shivering with pleasure.
“Issy,” he whispers, “I can feel you’re close.”
“I can feel you too,” I whisper.
He moves both his strong arms to fully encircle me, and kisses my mouth. And then I orgasm, my mouth moving urgently against his as the sensations wrack my body.
James quivers inside of me, and I feel him reach his peak. He grips me closer, and gasps. Then he’s saying my name, over and over.
I submit myself completely to the pleasure of it, and I feel our bodies join in some other-worldly place.
Still holding me tight, James brings his face close to mine, so our lips are just touching, and I can only see his eyes.
He gives me a final, deep kiss with his eyes still looking into mine.
“It has never been like that for me,” he says, pulling away after a moment. “That was,” he stops, searching for the word. “Incredible,” he decides. “Like nothing I’ve ever done before.”
He blinks at me.
“That sure beats drugs,” he says after a moment.
I laugh. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment,
Mr. Berkeley.”
“Oh, it’s a compliment. Believe me. That was the best rush of my life.” He shakes his head, as if struggling to comprehend the truth of this.
He looks more carefree than I’ve ever seen him.
I smile at him shyly.
“For me too.”
“Now I know what people mean about falling in love,” says James with a crooked smile.
We drift off to sleep with our arms wrapped around one another. But in the early hours of the morning, I feel James slide out of bed. And as I fall uncertainly back to sleep, I hear his anxious voice turning over security arrangements.
Chapter 2
7
I awake with a feeling of uncertainty deep in my stomach. And James is nowhere to be seen.
I get out of bed and pad slowly into the main living area. James is on the phone, listening intently. He turns his head anxiously as I enter.
“Isabella,” he says, closing up his phone and walking over to me. “There’s been an accident. With Will.”
My stomach lurches.
“Nothing to worry about,” says James, putting his arms around me. “He’s been injured this morning, training in the gym. One of the weights wasn’t properly secured, and he’s damaged a muscle.”
“Is he badly hurt?”
Something feels very wrong.
“No. No, he’s fine,” reassures James. “But he’ll be laid up for a day or so. In the meantime, I’ve found you another bodyguard. Just for today and tomorrow.”
“Will this affect the security operation?” I ask. Will seemed too integral to it all.
“A little,” admits James. “Maybe by half a day. We were relying on Will to help go through some of the data.”
This whole situation doesn’t feel right.
There’s a knock at the door.
“That will be your new bodyguard,” he says grimly. “Best get dressed. Your clothes are in the bedroom wardrobe. Then you can come meet her.”
“Her?”
“With Will out of action, I thought it best we employ a woman,” he explains. “That way, she can scope out the bathrooms before you use them.”
Scope out the bathrooms? James must be really worried
. I wonder if there’s been any other forestalments to apprehending the stalker.
I head back into the bedroom and pull open the wardrobe. This morning I’m in no mood to pick out a nice outfit. I grab the first things which fall into my hands. Jeans and a sweater top. Pulling them both on, I push my feet into a pair of suede ankle boots and head back out.
James is standing with a woman who is dressed in the security navy.
I’ve seen her around the complex. And I recognise her from the rehearsals yesterday. She was one of the security team keeping watch.
“This is Heather,” says James, gesturing to the stocky woman at his side.
Heather looks to be in her early forties, heavily built, with long peroxide hair. Her features are distinctly unfeminine, but they’re kindly.
“Hi,” I say. “You were at the rehearsals yesterday.”
Heather looks surprised that I remember her. But she nods.
“That’s right,” she says. “It was very interesting to see you act.”
She proffers her hand, and I take it. Her handshake is warm and a little too firm.
“I’m under instructions not to let you go for a minute,” she adds, “not even for a bathroom break.” Her accent is London English, and she sounds as if she knows a thing or two about the wrong side of the tracks.
I inwardly sigh, and then Heather cracks me a wink.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “You’re completely safe. This studio is locked down so tight, a mosquito couldn’t give you a nip. I’m here to take good care of you.”
I smile back at her, relieved that someone still has a sense of humour. Must be something you need for crisis situations, I decide. And Heather’s lined face looks to have had its share of combat situations.
I feel myself relax a little. Though I’d far rather have Will protecting me.
“Ready to go?” she asks.
I nod.
“I need to go over some more security,” says James. “You’ll be safe with Heather.”
“Do we have rehearsals today?” I ask. Nothing has been planned yet, I realise.
“I’m not sure yet,” says James. “Callum will be in the restaurant. Work out something with him, and I’ll call as soon as I know the plans.”
James seems so distracted. Has something changed?
We walk out into the studio and head to the restaurant.
The security presence feels even more oppressive this morning. There are navy uniforms everywhere.
“Are they any closer to catching the stalker?” I ask Heather as we near the restaurant.
She hesitates. “They think he’s infiltrated security,” she admits after a moment.
I realise from Heather’s tone that this is information she probably has been told not to share with me. But I’m grateful that someone, at least, isn’t treating me like a child.
“The security cameras?” I ask, thinking back to the images of me taken from the security circuit. “He found out how to get into those?”
“That and other things,” says Heather. “But they’re closing in. There’s a good chance things will be resolved today.”
I set my mouth, only slightly reassured.
Everyone thinks he’ll be caught today. Is it just wishful thinking?
Heather has a heavy set of handcuffs, I notice, secured to her belt, alongside a baton. But she doesn’t seem to be carrying a gun.
“Checking out the handcuffs?” she says, noticing the direction of my gaze. “They’re for you, in case you try and put yourself in danger.”
She’s joking, and I give a half laugh. It’s good, at least, that Heather has a sense of humour when so much drama is going on.