But despite how happy I feel right at the moment, I realize that nothing’s actually changed between us. If he wants me long-term at all, it’s as a submissive, which is no commitment at all—I mean, what do I get out of it but a broken heart at the end of a rutted road?
When I open my eyes the next morning, I glance over and see that I’m alone in the bed. The sun is high enough to stream in through the windows, reminding me that I never let Mariah know where I was. I’m not worried though, for Mariah surely can figure out where I ended up. My immediate need is a shower but my toiletries are in my bag downstairs. Hopefully I can get it before Ian sees me since I look terrible right now. Quickly, I wrap a sheet around my body and go in search of my bag. On the stairs, I hear Ian’s voice in a one-sided conversation: he must be on the phone. He sounds angry.
“I don’t give a damn, Jonas. It’s not going to happen. Get on the phone with Keppler now and make sure he understands our position. We are not going down with this one, no fucking way. What else?
“Who? You’ve got to be kidding me? How the hell did she get your number? No. Do nothing; say nothing. Just ignore it and let’s hope it goes away by itself. I’m going to try to enjoy my weekend now, if that’s okay with you? Fine. Till Monday then.”
Timidly, I step downstairs, hoping I could get the bag and get back up before he spots me.
“Ariel. Good morning.”
I stop short, feeling sneaky. It also doesn’t escape me that he called me Ariel again. Last night I was Ella. “Good morning. Is everything okay?”
“It will be. Sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you. I just want to take a quick shower.”
“Ah. Are we still on for the car ride today?”
I nod my assent, feeling very shy all of a sudden. Last night I did every imaginable thing with this man and yet I have the nerve to stand here this morning with blushing cheeks? Gives new meaning to the term cheeky.
He nods too, smiling. “Good. I’ll take you home to get changed. In the meantime, I’ve left a tee-shirt on the chair in the bedroom for you to wear over that sexy bra. Come down when you’re ready for breakfast.”
I stand there stupefied. “You made breakfast?”
He raises his left brow. “I take exception to your implication, Ariel. It’s extremely sexist of you to automatically assume that I can’t cook because I’m a man.”
“Not because you’re a man,” I say, shaking my head. “Just because you’re you and you always have staff doing everything for you. This is a new side of Ian Blackmon that I’ve not seen before.”
“I’m glad you can see I’m multifaceted. If you must get technical, perhaps cook is not the most appropriate verb to use in terms of what I did for breakfast.”
I cock my head. “Is heat more appropriate?”
His lips twitch. “I think bought would probably suit best.”
“Aha. I knew it!” I giggle, strolling over to my bag and snatch it up. “I’ll be down in five.”
Before I can leave the room, he makes a sudden lunge for me, catching my arm and yanking me close to his body. “When you giggle it does things to me and, besides, you look too delectable not to manhandle this morning, Ella.”
Oh, good, we’re back to Ella. He nuzzles my neck, holding me tightly. “It’s incredibly nice to see you wake up in this house—you’ve christened it for me, baby.”
I lean into him and inhale that delicious Ian Blackmon scent. Mmm. Just as I’m burrowing in and getting comfortable, he smacks me on the butt—hard. “Okay, off with you now before I forget about breakfast and eat you instead.”
I gasp, unsure if I’m gasping at the hard smack or his dirty words. I sling my bag over my shoulder and with a haughty look thrown back at him, make my way upstairs to shower and get dressed. I hear him laughing in my wake and my heart feels happy and full to listen to such wonderful music.
I end up spending the whole weekend with Ian and can only use superlatives to describe it. By Sunday night, I’m feeling depressed, knowing that it’s time to say goodbye. We can’t make any future plans—for one thing, I no longer live in Portland and have no idea whatsoever where I’ll be living. For another, Ian never gives me any direction in terms of where this thing between us may be heading.
But he also seems a bit out of sorts when the weekend rolls to its close. He drives me back to Mariah’s, both of us brooding and silent, only the music softly playing. Beck is the only one vocalizing his feelings in the tiny car.
When he pulls in front, he reaches over and presses the ignition off. “So,” he angles his body toward me, “do you have any idea as to when you’ll know where you’ll be landing?”