The Idea of You (23 page)

He abruptly pulled away and strode to the table. He downed the rest of both of their wine, clinked the glasses together between his fingers, and picked up the bottle. “I assume there's one of these—” he gestured to the ice bucket “—in the limo?”

“Probably.”

“Good.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “Because I want this to stay nice and cold before I drink it from your navel.”

A
S SOON AS
they were ensconced in the back of the limo, Evan pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. His cock was hard and thick beneath her ass, and now
she
was cursing the proximity of her stupid after-party. It was back in Ribbon Ridge—just outside actually—but the wait to get there would be worth it.

She ran her hands down the lapel of his black jacket and pulled back, pushing against his chest. He looked so hot tonight in a black shirt and the black jacket. The look was very Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes. In a word: scrumptious.

“Any chance we can torture ourselves and wait until we get to our destination?” she asked.

“You're evil,” he said. “I need more wine if you're going to expect me to be patient.”

She slid from his lap and poured wine into a flute and handed it to him. “It'll be worth it. I promise.”

Even though he wasn't looking right at her, his gaze smoldered nonetheless. “I don't doubt it.”

“Could you look at me for just a second?” He did as she asked, and she felt the brunt of that smolder. Heat bloomed between her thighs, and she was sorely tempted to throw her plans out the window. “Never mind. Look away now. Please.”

He laughed, and it was deep and throaty. Utterly sexy, and unlike any sound he'd ever made. He seemed to have reached a new level of comfort with her tonight. She'd never seen him so self-assured, so loose.

“The one time I look directly at you, and you can't handle it. Maybe there's a reason I suck at eye contact.”

“What, you don't know the power of your own fuck-me eyes?” She couldn't contain her laughter over the absolute absurdity of this conversation.

“Maybe. I actually like that. I can't look directly at people without them falling in thrall.”

She had to put the bottle back in the bucket before she spilled it because she was laughing so hard.

He took her glass. “Let me.”

“Oh, screw it.” She snatched the empty glass from his hand and dropped it to the floor. Then she snaked her hands around his neck and pushed him back against the seat. She hiked up her skirt and straddled his thighs, grinding her pelvis down against his. He clasped her waist and held her tight as he arched up, pressing his cock into her heat.

She nipped his lower lip as she left his mouth and moved down to his neck, where she kissed and licked at him. He smelled fabulous. He was wearing cologne, which was a first in her experience with him. It only added to his off-the-charts fuckability factor tonight.

“Fuckability factor?” he asked.

“Did I say that out loud?” she muttered against his flesh as she flicked open the topmost closed button on his shirt. She traveled to the next one and pushed the cotton apart to expose his delicious chest. “You are so
hot
. Why do you not have women drooling after you in long swathes?”

“What, like some pied piper of sex?”

“Dude, you're on a roll.” She opened her mouth and kissed his flesh, dragging her tongue in a wide whirl.

“Holy shit, Alaina. If you don't knock that off, we're having the after-party right here.”

“I decided I'm impatient.” She lifted her head and kissed him again, mouth open and greedy.

He emitted a low, primal grunt from deep in his throat just before he thrust his hands up under the hem of her dress and pushed it up to her waist. His fingers dug into her hips and ass as he kneaded her flesh. They ground against each other in helpless abandon.

He sucked on her tongue and slipped his hands into her underwear until he palmed her bare ass. Damn, this was not the slow, romantic seduction she'd planned.

She ripped her mouth from his and flung herself backward, landing on the rear-facing seat. She wiped the edge of her mouth, panting from their kisses and her excitement.

“Why did you stop?” The question was husky and low, full of masculine demand.

She pulled her dress down, shimmying her hips to help it descend. “We'll be there in a minute.”
Please drive faster
, she mentally urged the driver.

“Where are we going?”

“Ribbon Ridge-ish.”

“That's not terribly helpful. I'd like to know how long you expect me to suffer this agony.”

She looked at the bulge in his pants and licked her lips.

“Alaina,” he growled. “Stop looking at me like that and licking your damned lips.”

She turned and knocked on the glass separating them from the driver. It slowly descended. “Hi. How long until we arrive?”

He glanced at the navigation system in the dash. “Five minutes.”

“Thank you,” she said sweetly, and the glass went back up.

Evan tossed back his wine. “That's an eternity.” He leaned forward and poured more into the glass, but she took it from him before he could drink.

“I need a hit of this, sorry.” She downed what he'd poured and went for the bottle again.

“Hey, I need some of that for later.”

She gave him a saucy look. “There's more of it where we're going.”

At last, the limo started climbing.

“We're going to the monastery,” he said.

“The Ridgeview, actually. And more accurately, the upstairs suite.”

“You thought of absolutely everything.”

“I hope so.” She'd started planning it several days ago—the prom part. And after touring the Ridgeview with Sara, the after-party had taken shape.

The limo pulled into the dirt and gravel lot and then took them down the lane to the cottage. A moment later, the driver opened the door. Evan nabbed the nearly empty wine bottle and jumped out, then held out his hand for her. She grasped it, and the electrical current of lust nearly made her stumble.

“Will there be anything else?” the driver asked.

“No, thank you.” Alaina had already taken care of paying him, including tip.

Evan pulled her next to him. “How are we getting home?”

She didn't intend to leave until the morning but wasn't going to say that. She hoped to get him to
sleep
with her, but she didn't want to scare him off. “Your car's over there.” She pointed to the other side of the lane.

The driver nodded at them and then got back into the limo. Alaina turned to Evan. “Sara left a key under the mat.”

“She knew we were coming here?”

“Yes, does that bother you?”

“Not at all, and of all my siblings, she's the most trustworthy one you could ask.”

Alaina laughed. “I thought so. I'm getting to know you Archers pretty well.”

“But I also have a key.” He took his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. “Sara knows that. I'm surprised she didn't tell you.”

“She did, but we planned for every contingency.”

He pushed the door open and set the wine bottle down on the floor next to the wall. He turned, swept her into his arms, and carried her over the threshold. Maybe this was going to be the romantic evening she'd planned, after all.

She locked her hands behind his neck and kissed him just beneath his ear. “Leave the wine. There's more upstairs.”

He tightened his hold on her and bore her to the staircase at the back of the cottage. He carried her up the stairs like she weighed nothing, but then, she'd seen what he could bench-press. The stairs opened up to a landing with two doors. She knew one led to a closet and the other to the suite.

He knew which was which and carried her into the suite. The room was aglow with candles—battery-operated, like at the high school, so that she could have everything set and ready without worrying about burning something down. Music played softly in the background. She'd chosen instrumental with a bit of a Celtic hint. She liked the beat because it was primal and heavy. Sexual.

He lowered her to the floor, and she slipped her arms from his neck. “Where are you going?” he rasped.

She perched on the edge of the four-poster bed. “I was going to take off my shoes, if you want to help.”

He squatted down and lifted her foot. With deft fingers, he unbuckled the slender strap and slid the shoe off. “These can't be very comfortable.”

“Not particularly, but they look fantastic, right?”

He moved to the other shoe. “They're without question the sexiest shoes I've ever seen. On the sexiest legs to ever walk this earth.” He ran his hand up her calf and cupped the back of her knee.

She jerked, giggling. “I'm ticklish there.”

“Are you?” He slid his other palm up her other leg and drew a fingertip into the cavity behind her knee. “Like that?”

She squealed and pulled her leg away. “Stop it!”

He sobered. “Sorry. I hate to be tickled. I shouldn't have done that.”

She stood from the bed, eager to banish any discomfort. She wanted tonight to be perfect. And it had been going so well. She'd never seen him so comfortable, so easily witty and carefree. It was intoxicating.

She pressed her palms against his chest and slipped them under his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. He arched his back and let the garment fall behind him. “Do you want more wine?” she asked.

“Not right now.” He fingered one of her earrings. “These look expensive.”

“They were a birthday gift from a producer I've worked with a bunch of times. And yeah, I think they're worth about fifteen grand.”

He blew out a breath. “I hope you don't expect me to buy you a present like that.”

She reached up and took them off. “I thought you said you had a trust fund. If you don't, I might have to rethink this relationship.” She set the earrings on the nightstand, and when she turned back, he was staring at the bed. “Evan?” She touched his arm. “I was kidding. I don't care about your trust fund.”

“I know. But you said . . . relationship. Is that what this is?”

She took his hands in hers but didn't ask him to look at her again. “I think so. Are you okay with that? We don't really have to call it anything. I'm happy with you, are you happy with me?”

“Yes. And I don't care what you call it either.” He cupped her face and kissed her. Where their connection had been intense and rough in the limo, now it was soft and gentle. Sweet. “How does your dress come off?”

She smiled against his mouth. “There's a zipper on the side, underneath my arm. Here.” She lifted her shoulder and reached over with her other hand to slide the zipper down. The dress gapped open, and as she shrugged to dislodge the one shoulder of the dress, her breasts fell out. His gaze dropped to them. “Fancy built-in bra with this dress—it was made for me by the designer.”

“Fucking brilliant. Every single dress should be this easy.” He lifted her breasts in his hands, weighing them almost reverently. “I have zero experience with fake tits, but I'm guessing these are real.”

“Completely.”

“Your maker was incredibly good to you. And by extension me.”

She laughed again, unable to suppress the joy cartwheeling inside of her. “Lucky us.” She shimmied her hips, and the dress fell to the floor. Without waiting for him to ask or touch her, she slipped her underwear down and kicked them aside. Standing naked before him, she looked up into his face.

He'd let go of her breasts and was staring at her hair. “Can I take it down? I almost don't want to. You look so perfect. Like a fancy cake.”

She began to pull the pins out one by one, and gradually her hair cascaded down her back until it became too heavy and the mass fell before she was finished. She managed to find the last few pins and dumped them next to her earrings.

He touched her mouth with the tip of his finger, and she sucked it into her mouth. His indrawn breath spread heat outward from her belly. “No one's ever done that to me before.”

She continued to suckle him, drawing him deeper into her mouth. He gripped her waist and closed his eyes briefly. Then he pulled his finger out and trailed it down her chin and along the front of her throat. He slowly dragged it down between her breasts, leaving a path of trembling want.

He splayed his hand flat against her belly, his touch light and oh so arousing. Her pulse sped as he moved to her side, skimming his palm over her heated flesh as he went.

“Are you really mine?” He caressed her ass as he circled around her, pausing to brush his fingers up and down her flesh and drawing a needy sigh from her lips.

“Yes.” But her answer was to so much more than that simple question.
Yes, I'm yours. Yes, touch me. Yes, make love to me. Yes, never let me go.

Yes.

He slipped his hand between her legs from behind and found her core. She was wet and hot and so ready. She gripped the bedpost to her right and held on as he stroked his finger into her. “Oh God.”

He withdrew, then surged forward again. And again. He pushed her hair to the side, and most of it fell over her shoulder and grazed the top of her breast. His breath whispered against her neck a moment before his lips pressed down. His tongue, all velvety softness, brushed along her spine. All the while, his finger kept up its relentless invasion.

His other hand came around her and cupped her breast, squeezing her flesh lightly and then pulling on her nipple until she gasped. She widened her stance and arched back against him, wanting more. “Please,” she begged.

He moved his hand around to her front and slipped his finger in that way. No,
fingers
, this was fuller, better. She cast her head back against his shoulder as he tugged her nipple and latched his mouth onto her neck.

She moaned, rotating her hips, seeking release as her orgasm built. He pressed his hand flat, then found her clit, grazing it with swift, delightful strokes. Then his fingers were inside her again, and he kept his hand flush against her clit as he pumped hard and fast.

“Come, Alaina,” he whispered in her ear. He tweaked her nipple, and the floodgates opened. She cried out as pleasure slammed into her, weakening her legs. If not for him behind her, holding her, she would've collapsed to the floor.