Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (15 page)

“Fair enough. You’re hired.”

While I know he’s joking in the mood of the moment—and they’re all a bit sloshed from the champagne and wine they’ve ingested, my heart still skips a beat. Tonight could put us on the map with the who’s who of the upper crust. While I love putting on mysteries for anyone who comes to us, getting in with those who can afford to pay top dollar could change everything for Noah and me.

“I’m going to hold you to it,” I return with a wide smile.

“You better. I have to know what happens.”

Misha chuckles as I return to the kitchen to help her clean up. “Girl, you are too much.”

“What does that mean?” I keep my face turned away from her, busying myself with gathering the dirty linen pile into a bag.

“Oh, please.” She waits for me to turn around and look at her. She stands with her hand on her hip, eyebrow raised. “You are flirting with two of the best looking men in the city. Don’t play innocent with me.” She grins wryly.

I roll my eyes and set the bag at the front door to the kitchen. “They’re drunk and having a good time.”

With a snort, she returns to washing dishes. “Ian couldn’t take his eyes off of you all night.”

I am saved from responding when Noah peeks his head into the kitchen. “Do you need me to take anything out back? I’m going to grab our bags and throw them in the van.”

I smile at him, thrilled for the interruption. “You guys did great. And you nailed that role.”

His eyes reflect his weariness, but also his pleasure at the compliment. “Thanks. It seemed to go well.” He covers his mouth as he coughs.

“Are you getting sick?” I eye him suspiciously. He didn’t get in until late this morning, and he had to be up by noon to help me get ready.

He waves me off. “Stop being a mother hen. I’m fine.” He smiles to soften his words, but I can see the darkness around his eyes. He’s definitely getting sick.

I shake my head and wave to the bag of dirty linens. “Grab that one for me, would you?” I nod in appreciation to Noah as he ducks back out. A few minutes later, he returns, weighed down with the suitcase filled with costumes and props, as well as a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He disappears outside, and I pile a few other bins at the door for him to load.

“I need to freshen up before I go back out there to mingle. Be back in a few,” I call to Misha as I head for the powder room.

The downside to putting on a show is that you end up sweaty and a bit of a wreck. I slip into the small bathroom behind the kitchen, thankful for a moment of near silence as the door closes off the din from the party. But only for a moment, as it swings open almost immediately.

“I’m in—” The word “here” dies on my lips as I see Ian staring down at me with a molten gaze.

With one step, he joins me, pulling the door shut behind him. Then his mouth crushes mine, his hands lifting me onto the sink’s counter so he can situate himself between my legs. He tastes like red wine and chocolate with a hint of strawberry, and the intensity of our kiss has me moaning into him.

“I need to be inside you, Ella,” he whispers against my mouth.

“But I should be out there…” I can’t keep my thoughts straight as his lips blaze a trail over my collarbone, sending jolts of desire to my core. I wrap my legs around his waist, wanting to pull him even closer. His hand glides up my thigh, and I’m thankful I decided on a dress this evening. Even more so as he pulls aside the v-neck, teasing my breast through my silk bra.

As his fingers dip beneath my panties and find my center, I suck in air, trying desperately to remain quiet. His strokes, firm yet gentle, unwrap me from the inside, and as I crest, I clutch his shoulders, burying my face in his neck to avoid crying out.

He savages my mouth, and I return his fervor. When he pulls me from the counter and turns me so he can press his erection against my ass, I fall back against him, languid from my orgasm.

“I want to fuck you.” He meets my eyes in the mirror, his hair mussed from my hands.

I hold his gaze for a moment before leaning forward, enjoying the surprise and lust on his face. “Go ahead.”

He’s prepared with a condom, and within seconds, he shoves my panties down and slides the head of his cock against my clit. I watch us in the mirror: the sight of him behind me, his penetrating gaze as he slowly guides himself into me, serves to heighten my arousal.

One hand grips the back of my neck as his other reaches beneath me to tug on a nipple. “God, all I could think about all night was how much I wanted to make you come.”

Between his barely audible words and our reflection, I can’t contain my orgasm, but I want to go with his, to enjoy our climax together. He has no intention of letting me, though, and as I squeeze my eyes closed, getting lost in the sensation, he plunges into me even faster. I bite my lip, tasting metal, as I struggle to stay quiet. Once I’m satisfied, he holds my hips, moving from his steady rhythm to a punishing one. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he whispers, watching my face closely.

I shake my head, unable to say how good it feels, or how I’ve never experienced anything like this, but I’m starting to crave it. He deepens his thrusts, and I cover my mouth with my hand, determined not to moan. Since sleeping with Ian, I seem incapable of having just one orgasm, and the fury of his need makes me even hotter.

He drops down to the toilet and pulls me back against him. “I need to touch you,” he whispers, his hand lightly holding my throat. In the mirror, his eyes meet mine as his other hand glides down to torture me, pinching and swirling over my clit. My muscles contract around him, and I’m unable to stop my climax, but as I constrict around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure buffets me, he clutches me tight against his chest and finds his own release.

We don’t move for moments, and when someone knocks at the door, I nearly leap off him. The door knob wiggles, but the person walks away when it doesn’t yield. I slap my hand over my mouth, holding in a bit of hysterical laughter.

Ian’s looking at me with amusement. “You okay?” he mouths to me, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

I nod, hand still firmly over my mouth. The happiness in his eyes makes me want to melt against him, but there’s work yet to be done. And people waiting for the bathroom.

We right our clothing, and then pause at the door.

“Should I go first?” I whisper.

He draws me to him, his arms anchored behind my back. “In a moment.” He holds me, dropping a kiss on my head. “You are like breathing, Ella. I can’t seem to get enough of you.” He tilts my face so our gazes meet. “And it’s not just this—it’s all of you.”

The sweetness of his statement shakes me, but there’s something else in his gaze.

It can’t be…not yet. But deep down, I know what I see, and it scares me as much as it thrills me.

After Misha leaves with our van and the actors, only the three-person band remains, and they play old blues and R&B hits while the guests converse.

Noah looks like he’s about fall face first onto the table.

“Why don’t you head home? I’ll be right behind you. I want to do a little mingling with business cards.”

He shakes his head, though weariness informs his every move. “No, I’ll help you.”

I glance at the room of mostly men, with a few wives or girlfriends present. I shake my head. “Somehow, I think I’m better suited.” I grin. “Seriously, you look like death warmed over. Go home. I’ll finish up.”

It takes a bit more cajoling, but when I call a cab as I don’t trust him to have enough energy to take the right train, he capitulates. With any witnesses gone, I can breathe a little easier, and when Ian gestures to the seat beside him, I accept it gratefully. He rubs my knee beneath the table, but it’s more comforting than arousing, and the simplicity of it reminds me yet again how long it’s been since I’ve enjoyed closeness with anyone.

Mick, his eyes bleary with booze, slaps the table near me. “Tell us about you, Ella! We want to know where you got this fucking brilliant business idea, and who does all the work,
really
, between you and Noah.”

“Yeah, what’s your story?” The follow-up question comes from Mason, known to the world at large as “Em Dawg,” one of the up and comers on the R&B scene, though you’d be hard-pressed to tell he’s reaching celeb status. He’s as laid-back and friendly as they come in a football jersey, his dreads pulled back, and an easy way about him that’s very engaging.

Another man sits to Ian’s right, but he’s much quieter than everyone else, seemingly taking in the environment rather than participating, so I’m surprised when he actually asks a question after I explain the story behind Elementary.

“You write all of the mysteries?” His tone isn’t skeptical exactly, but there’s definitely some disbelief there.

I nod. “Yep. Every single one. I’ve been writing mysteries since I was twelve, so it’s sort of habit.”

“You’ll have to forgive Casey. He’s very suspicious of anyone that claims to write full-time, given that he’s a never-ending novelist,” Ian teases, doffing Casey on the shoulder.

Casey laughs demurely and nods. “True. I’m probably just ridiculously jealous. But kudos to you for making it happen. This was brilliant,” he compliments as he gestures to the room, which only hours before had been a stage. “If you ever need anything writing-wise, I’d be happy to help.”

I remember Casey’s name from the conversation Ian and I had on the way to Connecticut. There’s a sadness to Casey, or at least, I interpret it that way, but he seems at ease, his smile relaxed. We talk about his writing, which is more along the lines of literary fiction, but he’s also been working on a bit of genre fiction.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about working on a vampire mystery, something fun, and maybe a tad bit cheesy. I could use some consultation, if you’d be up for it.”

Casey runs a hand through his short blond hair, clearly pleased at being asked. “That would be great. I have a friend who might be interested in something like you are doing here, so maybe we can help each other out.” He grins, a blush brightening his cheeks.

I smile at him, appreciative of his offer. “Sounds perfect.”

The evening ends with business cards passed out, Mick’s promise that he’ll be in touch as he must know the end of the story, and more compliments than I can answer without turning a bright shade of pink. If they notice Ian’s arm brushing mine or our hands touching beneath the table, they don’t say anything.

“That was a brilliant night.” Ian wraps his arms around my waist, grinning down at me. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome. You have lovely friends.”

He kisses me, and I forget what I was even thinking, much less anything else I wanted to say.

“And thank you for throwing Casey a bone. He’s actually quite good, though I don’t know if he’ll ever finish his great American novel.”

“He’s the one you told me about? With the wealthy, nonexistent parents?”

Ian nods. “That’s him.”

I hate to interject, but I have to ask. “Did Mick mention anything about Noah’s performance?”

Ian grins. “I only had a brief moment to talk to him about it before dessert, but yes, he thought he was really something. He’s directing a film in the next year or so, and he might have a small role for him.”

What I mean to do is smile brilliantly and kiss Ian. What I do is yawn expansively.

“If that news didn’t perk you up, I know you’re done for. You’re exhausted.”

I start to shake my head, but I’m so tired, the effort of denial isn’t worth it. “I’m sorry. I am. I need to get home.”

“You won’t stay here?” he asks wistfully.

“Next time. I promise.” I kiss him, hoping he can feel my apology. “But Noah doesn’t know about us yet, and I want to be the one to tell him.”

“Fair enough.” He pulls his cell phone from his pocket, but I still his fingers. “I can take a cab. I usually do.”

“Nonsense. I’ll call you a car. If I can’t use the perk of my job, why have it?”

He’s either made a good point, or I’m too far gone to care. He practically lifts me into the car before nestling into the seat with me. I fall asleep during the ride, and I’m pretty sure he would have tried to carry me into my apartment, but I manage to get my footing.

“I’m okay,” I insist when he tries to argue. “I just need sleep.”