Almost Like Love (13 page)

Another item on the con list: she was actually starting to think that she and Ian could be friends. Letting something happen between them would only screw that up.

There was Jacob to consider, too. Muddying things between her and Ian couldn’t possibly be good for his nephew.

Her pro list, on the other hand, consisted of only one item.

Ian was the sexiest man she’d ever known, and the chemistry she felt when she was with him was like nothing she’d ever experienced.

Funny how sometimes that one item seemed to outweigh everything on her con list.

But the part of her that wanted to jump Ian’s bones was the crazy part, and not to be encouraged.

Simone employed several strategies when she didn’t want to sleep with a guy but needed help to bolster her willpower. Her favorite was the wear-hideous-underwear strategy—the idea being that a woman in granny panties will never risk their being seen.

Kate decided to go with a different approach. Thinking about Ian made her feel sexy, and even though she wasn’t going to act on it, she enjoyed the feeling so much that she didn’t want to ruin it by wearing ratty underwear.

So instead she put on her best lingerie. The effect would be the same, since if Ian ever saw what she was wearing under her clothes, he’d conclude that she’d been expecting him to disrobe her at some point during the evening, which would be even more humiliating than letting him see her in granny panties.

So she put on the birthday present she’d gotten this year from Simone. It had been something of a gag gift, since Kate wasn’t the sexy-lingerie type, but she secretly adored the black lace set. It fit exquisitely, and the bra and panties were so delicate and impractical that Kate had always thought of them as objects to look at, rather than wear. She’d never even taken the tags off . . . until now.

Ian was coming over at eight with Oreos, milk, and Dungeons & Dragons. A very unromantic setup, which was definitely for the best—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge herself beforehand. Ian didn’t need to know that she took a jasmine-scented bubble bath before putting on gossamer-fine lingerie—especially since it was hidden under jeans and a tee shirt.

But she would know . . . and she’d enjoy the secret.

Ever since that night at the club, she’d been taking more pleasure in her physicality: standing up straighter, wearing her hair down every so often, even making an appointment for a leg wax the week before. Part of it was undoubtedly a reaction to her breakup with Chris, but it was also the realization that a man like Ian Hart could be attracted to her.

One dance and one kiss had done wonders for her self-esteem.

By the time Andreas sent him up that night, she was confident that she’d gotten her fantasies out of her system and was ready to enjoy a relaxed, platonic evening.

Then she opened the door.

Ian stood there in faded jeans and a black button-down shirt, looking sexy and powerful and good enough to eat. There was stubble on his jaw and a half smile on his face, and Kate wondered if it was possible for any woman to be friends with this man. She could see being his colleague or his enemy or his sex toy, but his friend?

Then he held up the Dungeons & Dragons box and a bag of Oreos, and her heart rate slowed a little. A man who’d once played a fantasy adventure game had more layers to his personality than were immediately apparent. He might even be friend material after all.

“Ready for milk and cookies and sword fighting?” he asked.

She stood back to let him in. “Absolutely. Although I also have wine or beer if you want something stronger.”

She’d been on the fence about suggesting alcohol, but a glass of wine would help her relax—and it was Saturday night, after all.

But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she worried that Ian would misinterpret her intentions. Maybe he’d think she was trying to get him drunk so she could take advantage of him.

“Sure, wine sounds great.”

He spoke casually, so she figured it was okay.

“You can set up the game on the coffee table,” she said as she headed for the kitchen. “Do you prefer red or white?”

“Red.”

Her grandparents had been wine connoisseurs, and she’d been working her way through their collection over the last few years. She hesitated a moment, wondering what to choose, then decided on a Château Lafite Rothschild. She filled two glasses but left the bottle in the kitchen, not wanting to be accused of wine snobbery. If Ian knew anything about the subject, he’d know this particular vintage would fetch well over $3,000 at auction.

Ian was sitting on the living room floor with his back against the sofa. There was a collection of multicolored polyhedral dice on the coffee table, along with a handful of miniatures and several sheets of paper.

She set the wineglasses down before sitting on the floor on the other side of the table. When he lifted his glass, she lifted hers, too.

“To friendship,” he said, and she felt a rush of relief—and a twinge of disappointment she immediately repressed.

“To friendship,” she echoed, and they both drank.

Ian’s eyes widened. “Holy hell,” he said, staring at the glass in his hand before taking another sip. “You have a whole bottle of this?”

She nodded. “My grandparents loved wine, and they left me their collection.”

“Damn,” he said appreciatively, inhaling the aroma. “I didn’t realize you knew anything about wine. I never saw you drink at a network party.”

“I don’t like to drink at work, even if it’s a social event. It’s too easy to have one too many and say something stupid.”

“You like to stay in control,” he said thoughtfully.

“Well, sure. At work, anyway. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Probably,” he agreed, taking one more sip, then setting his glass down. “Are you ready to get started?”

She nodded. “I played a little in high school, but I don’t remember much. I know you use the dice to create your character, though.”

“You can—but sometimes a Dungeon Master rolls characters in advance for a particular adventure.” He slid one of the sheets of paper over to her. “I created one for you, but if you don’t like her, we can roll one from scratch.”

Character Name: Red Sonja

Race: Human

Class: Fighter

There were several other details listed, including the armor she wore and the weapons she fought with.

Kate looked up from the sheet with a grin. “You’re letting me be Red Sonja? I’m surprised you even know who she is.”

“I didn’t before that night at the club when Arthur announced that you were a dead ringer for her.” He nodded towards the framed print on the wall. “I have to admit, I can see the resemblance.”

“Thank you, kind sir. And I’d love to play this character. Role-playing games are all about wish fulfillment, right? And I always wanted to be a warrior.”

“You’ve never been a warrior in real life?”

“I assume you mean metaphorically, and no. I create stories about heroes and heroines who fight evil, but in my own life I’ve never been very brave.”

Ian started to speak but then stopped himself. Kate wondered what he’d been about to say. She almost asked him, but then Gallifrey jumped up on the coffee table and swatted at one of the dice.

Ian picked it up from the floor as Gallifrey knocked another one off the table, and Kate scrambled to her feet.

“He’s looking for dinner,” she explained, and went to the kitchen to feed him.

“Explain to me why people like cats so much?” Ian asked when she came back.

She sat on the floor again, cross-legged this time. “Do you know what Jean Cocteau said about cats?”

“No, but I bet you’re about to change that.”

“He said, ‘I love cats because I love my home, and after a while they become its visible soul.
’ 
”

“That’s a little metaphysical for me.”

“But it’s true. For me, the soul of a home should be comfort—and cats are the very essence of comfort. When I see Gallifrey curled up on my bed in a patch of sunlight, it makes me feel warm and cozy and happy. And that’s how I want my home to feel.”

He looked around her living room for a moment, his eyes moving over the furniture, the art on her walls, the books and knickknacks on her shelves.

“You’ve succeeded. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place that feels warmer and cozier than this one.”

She was pleased by the compliment. “Well, thanks. That’s nice of you to say.”

Then she remembered the comment she’d made about his apartment. When she glanced at his face, she knew he was remembering it, too.

“A soulless palace of luxury,” he murmured.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, well . . . that wasn’t a very nice thing to say. I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It’s true. I hired a decorator and told her to make it look professional—which she did.”

“Your terrace feels different. There’s definitely some soul out there.”

“Thanks, but I can’t take credit for that, either. I just kept it the way it was when I moved in.” He cocked his head to the side. “Speaking of soul—didn’t you describe me to Simone as an evil bastard without one?”

This time she refused to be embarrassed. “Indeed I did. Didn’t you once describe me to the VP of sales as a flaky artist with zero grasp on reality?”

A corner of Ian’s mouth twitched. “I may have said something like that.”

She picked up her wineglass and held it towards him. “Truce?”

He clinked his glass against hers. “Truce.”

They started the game soon afterwards, and it didn’t take long for Kate to get into it. She’d played Dungeons & Dragons only a few times, but she’d been an RPG aficionado for years, and the language and conventions of the world were easy to pick up.

Her quest was to rescue a handsome prince from the ruined castle where he was being held captive.

“I thought you’d appreciate the role reversal,” Ian told her.

“How very gender-neutral of you.”

She was surprised at how easily he got into it, too. Ian obviously enjoyed his role as Dungeon Master, using the pseudomedieval terminology of the fantasy world with ease and seeming to take a lot of pleasure in unleashing mayhem on her character.

Before she could enter the castle, she had to fight her way past a few dozen monsters and steal a key from a troll’s lair. Once she conquered those challenges, she stood at the door that led down to the dungeon where the prince was imprisoned.

“I try to open the door.”

“It’s locked.”

“I use the key I stole from the troll.”

Ian rolled one of the dice he used to determine outcomes. “The key works, and the door opens. You find yourself in a small antechamber. It’s pitch black.”

“I light my lantern.”

“You’re already carrying your sword and shield,” he reminded her.

“Right. Okay, I sling my shield over my shoulder but keep my sword out. I use my free hand to hold the lantern.”

“Once the lantern is lit, you see that you’re not alone. Coming towards you across the chamber is a human warrior holding a broadsword. He stops when he sees you. ‘Who are you, fair maiden? What has brought you to this place?
’ 
”

“I don’t sheathe my sword, but I don’t attack yet.” She let her voice deepen a little to indicate she was now speaking for her character. “I am Red Sonja, a warrior who has come here on business of my own. Who are you?”

“I am Galahad.”

Kate shot a glance at him, but his expression was the neutral one she’d mentally dubbed his Dungeon Master poker face.

“Galahad,” she repeated cautiously. “The name is not unknown to me. I believe you are a warrior of some renown, one who is allied with the forces of good. What quest has brought you here?”

“I am here because of the words of a seer. She told me that if I came to this place I should look upon the fairest lady in all the land, and I had a great desire to do so. And I have not been disappointed.”

Kate dropped her eyes to her character sheet. She held one of the dice in her hand, and now she squeezed it into her palm.

Maybe if she hadn’t had two glasses of wine, she would have maneuvered the game back on track, leaving Galahad behind. But a rare vintage was buzzing through her veins, and she couldn’t stop herself from taking a cautious step into the unknown.

“Fair words are not always matched by noble actions. I am here to rescue a prince from this dark dungeon. Will you aid me on my quest?”

“How did you learn that a prince was imprisoned here?”

“In the kingdom of Anduria I met the king’s wise woman. It was she who bade me seek the king’s son in this place.”

“Did this wise woman wear a moonstone around her neck?”

Her eyes flicked up to his for an instant. “She did.”

“Then your wise woman and my seer are one and the same. There is no prince in these dungeons, my lady. There is only the man you see before you.”

A thousand things prickled her skin—adrenaline, excitement, fear, uncertainty.

She couldn’t meet his eyes again. She stared down at her hands and saw they were both clenched into fists.

She tried to draw air into her lungs, but she couldn’t seem to manage it. Her heart was pounding wildly.

What should she do? What should she say?

Then she heard Ian’s voice again. “Galahad throws down his sword and shield and approaches you. ‘My lady, when I look at you I am consumed by desire. If you will lay down your arms for this one night, I will bring you such pleasure as you have never known.
’
 
”

Her cheeks burned. “You seem very sure of your abilities in this area.”

“I am,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “I’ll be the best you ever had. If you let me be your rebound, Kate, I swear you won’t regret it.”

When she finally met his eyes, she couldn’t look away.

“Kate,” he said softly.

A shiver went through her. By using her name, he was taking them from fantasy to reality.

“Kate,” he said again.

Her heart was pounding. “Yes?”

“Come here.”

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

S
he wanted to. Oh, God, she wanted to. She’d never felt like this before—so terrified and so excited at the same time. Looking at Ian, seeing the coiled tension in his body and the naked hunger in his eyes, she felt a desire so deep and powerful it was like an ache in her very bones.

Her list of cons hadn’t changed. There were still a lot of reasons not to do this.

But as she rose to her feet and walked around the coffee table, she decided she didn’t give a damn about any of that. All she knew was that she wanted this man, and tonight she was going to have him.

The heat in his eyes seared her where she stood. He rose to his feet, too, looming over her for a moment before he sat down again, on the sofa this time, instead of the floor.

He looked like a sultan surveying a new harem girl, and suddenly her uncertainty was stronger than her desire. What if she was in over her head?

Ian had a lot more partners in his past than she had in hers. The promise in his eyes spoke of a breadth of sexual experience she didn’t share.

She was positive that Ian was a man with skills. Moves. All-around carnal knowledge.

She, on the other hand, had no skills to speak of. She’d had vanilla sex with three different lovers. It had been pleasant enough, and she’d enjoyed it, but it would take more than the missionary position to satisfy Ian Hart.

Was he expecting her to be exciting and adventurous?

Maybe he expected her to do something right now. Something sultry.

She swallowed. “I don’t know . . . I’m not sure what I . . . What happens now?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Now you take off your clothes.”

Her face crimsoned over and her nipples hardened.

She crossed her arms over her chest to hide it. “Okay, a couple things,” she said.

His mouth twitched. “A couple things?”

She cleared her throat. “First of all, you should know I’m wearing sexy underwear.” His eyebrows lifted and she hurried on. “I wore them so I wouldn’t be tempted to . . . to . . . do anything with you tonight. Because if you saw my sexy underwear you’d think I wanted this or planned it or expected it or—”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that. I know you didn’t expect this, Kate. I didn’t expect it either. But I wanted it, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.”

Oh, God.

The red in her cheeks deepened. “The other thing is . . . I’m not really a make-out-in-the-living-room kind of girl. Or a make-out-with-the-lights-on kind of girl. So maybe we could, you know . . . move into the bedroom.”

“Where we’ll turn the lights off.”

“If you don’t mind.”

His eyes gleamed. “There’s something you need to remember.”

“What?”

“I’m the Dungeon Master tonight—not you. My game, my rules. Got it?”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Goose bumps swept over every inch of her skin.

It wasn’t too late to say no. She could still turn tail and run. She could still—

“Okay,” she whispered.

He shut his eyes for a second, and she wondered if he’d expected her to say no.

He opened them again. “I want to see your sexy underwear,” he said, his voice husky.

“With the lights on and everything?”

“Yeah. And, Kate?”

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.”

She opened her mouth, blinked, and closed it again. Then she took her courage in both hands, along with the hem of her tee shirt, and pulled it off over her head.

“Jesus,” Ian breathed, and the look in his eyes as he stared at her breasts made her feel warm all over. She hesitated only a moment before she unzipped her jeans, slid them down her legs, and stepped out of them.

She saw Ian’s hands twitch, and the muscles in his throat jumped as he swallowed.

“Come here,” he grated out.

A rush of confidence made her shake her head. “I want to see your tattoos first. All of them.”

His eyebrows went up. Then he leaned back against the sofa and stretched his arms out along the back, opening his legs in a
V
.

“I’m all yours,” he said.

She stepped into the space he’d made for her and leaned over him to undo his top button. She didn’t meet his eyes, but she felt his gaze on her, hot and hungry.

As she moved to the next button, she glanced farther down his body and felt a sudden flash of lust when she saw the erection pushing against his jeans.

He wanted her.

He wanted
her
.

The thrill of that knowledge made her slow down as she moved to his third button, letting her hair fall forward to brush against the bare skin she was exposing.

“Vixen,” he whispered, and her lips curved up in a smile.

When she undid the last button, his shirt fell open.

Sweet mother of God.

She’d never seen a male torso like this outside of the movies. Broad, powerful, and with a ridged abdomen that drew the eye even farther downward, towards what was still hidden under blue denim.

There was only one tattoo on his chest. It was a phoenix done in black, the effect like a pen-and-ink illustration.

She gave in to the urge to touch him, letting her fingers trace over the tattoo. His stomach muscles tensed as he sucked in a breath.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, her gaze lifting to meet his.

“Kate,” he whispered. “My God, Kate.”

She went still. There was heat and need and passion in his eyes, but also something new. Something she hadn’t seen before.

“Kiss me,” he said, his voice rough and demanding but also beseeching.

Letting herself fall against him was a relief so intense, it was like the cessation of pain. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she slid her arms around his neck, and in the next instant her mouth was on his.

He groaned, and she felt the vibration in her bones. His tongue slid into her mouth and his hands went everywhere, sliding into her hair, roaming down her back, gripping her hips.

When she realized she was rubbing herself against his erection like a cat in heat, she should have been embarrassed. But the fire inside her left no room for anything but need, and instead of pulling away she reached down between their bodies and fumbled for the zipper of his jeans.

He broke the kiss and grabbed her upper arms.

“Wait,” he panted.

“Wait?” she repeated incredulously. The heat and throbbing between her legs was unbearable, and the need to have Ian inside her was not going to be denied.

His hold on her arms tightened, and with a powerful twist he flipped them over so she was on her back beneath him.

The sudden move sent sofa cushions scattering, and Kate sucked in a breath as she stared up into Ian’s face. His eyes were fierce, and the weight of his body on hers was so deliciously perfect that she moaned.

“Why did you say ‘wait’?” she asked. “I don’t want to wait.”

“There are things I want to do to you before my jeans come off.”

And then he was kissing his way down her body, his mouth closing over one breast through the lace of her bra. He covered the other with his hand while she pushed herself into him almost frantically, the sensations he was creating pooling like lava between her legs.

He kissed lower, dipping his tongue into her naval and making her jump. He put his hands on her hips, and suddenly she realized where he was heading.

She gripped his hair. “Wait.”

He looked up at her. “I thought you didn’t want to wait.”

“It’s just . . . I don’t do that. That thing you’re about to do.”

He smiled, but there was nothing reassuring about it. It was more like the smile the wolf gave Little Red Riding Hood.

“That’s right, you don’t.” He paused. “I do.”

He reached up to unhook her bra and slip it off her shoulders. Then his hands were on the waistband of her panties, and he slid them down and off.

She was naked. She was naked, and the lights were on, and Ian had settled between her legs like he was expecting to stay awhile.

“Ian—”

He grinned that wolfish grin again. “My game, my rules. Remember?”

“I—”

“Trust me, Kate. And stop talking.”

He pressed his thumbs into her softest skin, spreading her open. Then his mouth was on her.

Oh, God.

It was so intense she couldn’t stay still. She writhed against him, and when he gripped her hips she had a sudden wild wish that his hands would leave bruises on her body.

His hands were like iron, but his mouth was gentle. He licked her softly, thoroughly, and when his tongue flicked against her clitoris, she let out a cry before she could hold it back.

He did it again, and again.

If he kept doing that, she was going to come.

But then he pulled back and licked her again, his tongue delving deeper.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

There was no more embarrassment or fear or shame. There was only the rising tide of her body and a pleasure so intense she was moaning, crying out, making sounds she’d never made in her life.

She was throbbing, quivering, aching for release. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, his tongue was
there
, and as she arched up to meet him he thrust two fingers inside her.

She came so hard it felt as if she’d left her body, transformed from flesh and blood into pure ecstasy.

“Ian!”

She heard his name as though someone else had called it out, and it sounded so good and so right, she said it again.

“Ian . . .”

When she came back into her body, she was trembling. Ian’s hands had gone from iron-hard to whisper-soft, caressing her skin as he kissed his way back up her body.

Finally he rested his forehead against hers.

With a shock of surprise, she realized that he was trembling, too.

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

He laughed a little shakily. “Yeah, I’m all right. That was just . . . intense.”

“For
you
?”

He pulled back and smiled down at her.

“Yeah, for me.”

Then he kissed her, and the tang of her on his lips made her feel raw and wild and untamed.

“More,” she said when he dragged his mouth from hers. “I want more.”

He glanced at something over her shoulder. “I do, too. But I’m starting to like your idea of moving into the bedroom. For one thing, I wouldn’t mind having a little more room to maneuver. And for another, your cat is staring at me.”

Kate twisted her head to look, and there was Gallifrey, sitting on the arm of the sofa and gazing down at them.

“The bedroom it is,” she agreed. “As long as we can keep the lights on,” she added, and Ian gave her a quick, hard kiss before getting to his feet and pulling her up after him.

Her legs were shaky, so she hung onto his hand as they stumbled down the hall. And then they were in her bedroom and falling onto her silk comforter.

“I want these off now,” Kate said, her hands going to his zipper, and this time he rolled onto his back and let her do what she wanted.

She tugged his jeans and boxers off, along with his socks. He’d dropped his shirt back in the living room, so now he was lying naked on her bed in all his glory.

And quite a bit of glory it was.

When she wrapped her hand around his erection, his whole body tensed.

“You’re so big,” she whispered, and he groaned.

Her hand tightened. “Do men really like to hear that?”

“Hell, yes. We’re shallow that way.”

“Then I should tell you that you’re the biggest man I’ve ever been with. Of course, I’ve only been with three other guys, so it’s not much of a sample group.”

She began to move her hand up and down his length.

His breath hissed through his teeth. “Doesn’t matter. Say it again.”

She leaned close and whispered in his ear. “You’re. So.
Big
.”

Her hand moved faster, and Ian groaned again.

She felt a rush of confidence. Deciding to go with it, she slid down the bed and took him in her mouth.

“
Jesus
,” he growled.

Whenever she’d gone down on Chris, he’d been gentle and considerate, letting her set the pace. It wasn’t like that with Ian. He slid a hand into her hair and urged her to take him deeper, his voice and his touch hard and rough and demanding.

Her body responded with a flash of heat and rush of moisture at her center.

She wanted to make him come. She wanted it so much, she almost cried out in protest when he pulled away suddenly.

“That feels too good,” he said, gasping for breath. “If you keep going I’ll come, and I don’t want to like that—not the first time. I want to be inside you.”

His words made her shiver.

He rolled to the edge of the bed and grabbed his jeans from the floor, pulling a condom out of his back pocket.

Kate propped herself up on her elbows and watched him. “I see you came prepared.”

His eyes were fierce and hot when he looked at her. “I told you I wanted this.”

“I’m on the pill, if you—”

He shook his head. “I feel better using a condom.”

“Okay.”

For a moment they just stared at each other. Kate’s body felt like a bowstring, taut and vibrating with anticipation. Ian’s face was flushed, his jaw muscles tense and his neck muscles corded. He breathed as if he’d been running.

He kept his eyes on her as he ripped open the foil packet and rolled the condom over his shaft.

Then he did the last thing she expected.

He hesitated.

“You’re sure you want this?” he asked, his voice low.

Her answer was immediate. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

The words seemed to ignite something in him. His eyes darkened, and he pushed her back against the pillows. He used his knee to part her thighs, and then he was looming over her, his arms on either side of her shoulders, his biceps bunching.

His skin was hot, his muscles hard. For one instant he stayed like that, all coiled power and masculine intent. Then he found her center and pushed inside, just a few inches, and Kate arched her head back and cried out.