Three and a Half Weeks(137)
Ian cradles her face in his large hands. Can she possibly know how much he loves her? Pushing her hair away, he looks—really looks—at every inch of her beautiful face. Her forehead, neither too high nor too low, that gently slopes toward elegantly arched brows. Almond-shaped eyes, large and china blue, watch the world with a clarity that always robs him of breath when they’re trained on him intently, her straight nose, the size in harmony with the rest of her face, and finally her luscious, luscious lips, so full and red, the most kissable he’s ever seen.
Holding her in his embrace, he knows unequivocally that he no longer could live without her. If something happened to Ella, he’d shrivel and die: she is that precious. He leans in and kisses those lips over and over, barely allowing her a breath in between. He slides his mouth across her jaw to her neck, running his tongue down to the nape and on to her shoulder. Between the two points, he clamps down his mouth—so she feels the warm and wet… and then the sharpness of teeth as he bites down. Whereas she used to protest such pain, she now welcomes it from him—her thready gasp confirms he’s stirring her passion.
He doesn’t want to talk right now.
Ella’s response is primal. She throws her head back to allow him full access to her throat, while straddling his legs. Flexing her hips, she can feel the swelling bulge through his thin drawstring pants and it serves to stoke her passion higher. She begins moving her body against his more aggressively—she has no panties on and the friction and heat he’s releasing is sending her body into a frenzied impatience.
Growling in response, he reaches down to pull up her nightgown and slide down his pants. She’s so wet that his cock is bathed in her, seeping right through his clothing. With a moan rumbling from deep in his chest, his arms reach up to hold her shoulders in place as he thrusts up into her. Normally there are no words between them, just rhythmic motion and punctuating sounds. This time he speaks to her, whispering in her ear, dirty things that make her control slip away faster until she shrieks, high and loud, and all her muscles clamp down on him. He tries to fight it, marshaling every resource accessible to him, but to no avail: her body forces him into the whirling vortex with her and they both reach the end of it as one, exhausted.
After a few moments their panting winds down, and Ian accepts the obligation he has to come clean with her; he doesn’t want to undermine the new currency of their relationship. Inhaling a bolstering breath of oxygen, he prepares himself for the argument.
“Ella, sweet, I have to go have a heart to heart with Phillips. It’s critically important that I do so, and I need to know you’ll respect my wishes and stay here, guarded by Mason at all times. Can you allow me that one less worry? Please?”
The information shocks her. “Lucien? I don’t want you going there alone, Ian. Remember what you did to his face. I’m sure he’d like nothing better than to pay you back, despite what he said about being a pacifist.”
“He’s not the one I’m worried about—it’s his two protectors who concern me. But I’m not going alone, Ella. I promise. I’ll either take Daniel Butler with me or some of his back-up. I swear to it.” He bends down to peer into her eyes, his gaze penetrating any barrier. “Do I have your word, Ella?”
Ella knows she can’t fight him on this front: Natasha is too dangerous. “Okay.” Her thoughts run to her conversation with Maya St. Sauveur. She sharply sucks in her breath. “You know, if you had told me about Natasha sooner, I could have told you about her connection with Lucien. I just remembered that Maya told me that someone named Natasha took Lucien away from his longtime girlfriend.”
“Really.” His comment wasn’t an interrogative, but merely a punctuating statement.
“Yes. You might try speaking to his ex. Her name is Eliza, I believe, but I don’t know her surname.”
“I believe it’s in the initial report I had run on Mr. Phillips when you first began your employment with him. I wonder if you might consider starting the conversation with her while I’m in New York?”
She reaches up to stroke his face, stubbled from a five o’clock shadow. “I can do that.”
“Good. I’ll have Claudia contact you with her telephone number. Thank you, Ella. To know you’re safe is one less thing on my mind.”
She reaches her hand down and begins to stroke him. “We work better as a team, don’t we?”
His voice drops to a deeper register as his hands begin to reciprocate, “We certainly do, Ms. Strong.”
Meanwhile, Scott waits at the hangar, the Gulfstream ready to go.