Trust (7 page)

Ethan handed Sophia her cup. “Do you like the view?”

“Uh-huh. Fantastic.”

“Let’s drink this in the living room.”

They sat on the sofa, side by side, Ethan’s arm casually on her shoulders, his hand, undemanding, caressing her bare arm.

“I love Pollock and Francis Bacon,” she said, looking at the paintings hanging on the wall. “They’re among my favorite painters.”

He smiled at her, “Mine, too.”

He made small talk about art, waiting for her to finish her coffee and put her cup and saucer on the center table beside his.

The second she sat back beside him, he shifted on the sofa and his hands framed her face. “Sophia…” His voice hoarse.

Oh, God. Time to face the beast or rather the beauty
. She crushed the hysterical nervous laugh that threatened to escape.

Sophia looked up and stared into his eyes. They were charged with a potent hunger. She parted her lips and wetted them with the tip of her tongue.

He groaned with desire and his mouth descended on hers.

He tastes of coffee
.

He ran his hands down the sides of her body, searching for the edge of her dress.

She sank her hands into his hair.

His lips were insistent and his tongue, thrusting in her mouth, danced with hers. His beard was soft and pleasant to the touch. He nibbled her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. His hand wandered up her thigh until his thumb found her panties.

She moaned in his mouth and arched on his hard chest, her nipples aching for skin contact.

“Let me love you, Sophia.” His azure eyes blazed with passion.

She was in no state to speak.

He rose and held out his hand to her. “Come.”

She put her hand in his and stood up; giving him the permission he sought.

His rooms occupied most of the second floor. They were white, glass and steel, as the rest of his home. Spectacular contemporary paintings and sculptures gave color to the rooms. An office, a bedroom, and an adjoining sitting room made up his quarters.

He stopped in front of the bed. The linens were turned down.

Sophia noticed a bottle of champagne cooling in a silver bucket with two crystal glasses on the center table in the sitting room. She smiled; he had everything prepared previously.

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she whispered.

“Yes, I am.” He dragged her into his embrace, kissing her passionately as his hand unfastened her black belt and flung it on the armchair in the sitting room, without even looking that way.

Her hand stopped him as he started to unzip her dress.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

She bit her lower lip, unsure. “I didn’t tell you. I have an ugly scar on my arm. I was shot once.”

“Hush.” He took off her dress, letting it fall on the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Immediately, his hands went to her breasts, gently kneading them. “Beautiful. Perfect.”

His eyes wandered over her body, taking note of the scar. He smiled naughtily when he noticed her dark red and gold lace panties. One of his hands went down and cupped her as his mouth latched on a nipple, sucking it into his mouth. Her head fell backwards and she tangled her hands in his brown, sun-kissed, silky hair.

“Undress me,” he ordered.

Her trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, opening them. Her hands tentatively searched his chest and felt soft chest hairs under her fingers. He was muscular and well-shaped. She felt bold and tried to free him of the shirt, but his hands were busy elsewhere. She moaned when she felt his fingers going inside her panties to tease her. Her fingers undid his belt and the sound of his zipper rang through the room. She pushed his trousers down and they fell to his ankles.

He toed his shoes off and stepped on his trousers to take them off. He ripped off his shirt and looked at her, his eyes burning her, “Touch me.”

Her hands went to his chest.

“No.” His voice rumbled deep in his chest. He took off his underwear and his socks. Covering her hand with his, he placed her hand on his rigid shaft, stroking himself. His other hand circled her throat and nape, pulling her to a scorching kiss.

Unfamiliar with his way of making love, she felt unsure of what to do.

“Tighter, faster,” he demanded with labored breath, distributing kisses on her throat. He bit her shoulder and lapped at the bite. She gave a startled gasp.

Sophia shifted to take off her black velvet high heels but he halted her. “Leave them on,” he said in a husky voice.

He smiled on her skin and trailed to her breast, suckling and biting her nipple, “You’re delicious. I want to taste you. All of you.” He directed her to lie on the pillows and knelt down at the end of the bed, snatching her panties away. He took hold of her ankles and opened her legs, setting his large shoulders between them. His mouth moved over her soft stomach, his hands ran over her legs.

She moaned low as he made his descent to her core.

He lapped at her, once, twice, teasing, as if waiting for a reaction. When she grabbed his hair, he grinned and latched his mouth, sucking her. She spoke his name in a gasp. And he entered her with his tongue, delving, licking.

She feels so good, so soft
.

Her thighs were silk against his hands. She was liquid heat against his mouth. He could hear her choppy breaths.

“Oh, please, Ethan.” Writhing on the bed, her hips undulated.

He rose over her, kissing her breast as a blind hand searched for a condom in the drawer of the bedside table. He sheathed himself and rocked his body in between her thighs.

“Please.”

“Not yet. I want to see you burning,” he said huskily near her ear, nipping the earlobe and rimming the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. He kissed his way to her neck and throat. She jerked beneath him and moved her hips, trying to ease the pressure building inside her. He laughed quietly and moved to her shoulders, kissing, lapping, and nibbling. Her fingers clung to his upper arms, needing some support, as his mouth found her breast. Lightning shot through her and she gasped out loud, arching her back.

“I. Am. Burning,” she pleaded. He didn’t answer, his mouth busy now with the other breast. His fingers moved to find her slit and he entered her deep with two long fingers. In and out, his fingers teased her. His thumb pressed her clitoris.

Her hands entwined in his hair and she yanked his head up to gaze desperately at him. “In. Flames!”

He smiled hungrily and braced himself on each side of her head.

“You. Are. Tight,” he bit out as he thrust shallowly, but slowly and steadily, torturing her. In a bit, out some more, until he was fully inside her. Hip to hip, no space between them.

She clutched his hair to pull his head down for a kiss.

What started slowly grew into a crescendo, as he began to move faster and she joined him, matching his tempo.

He felt she was near. “Come for me,” he commanded, kissing her hard. Her nails scorched his back and her heels dug into his buttocks. “Yes, baby.”

Sophia opened her eyes to look at his flashing blue eyes.

“Ethan.” She threw her head back and cried out as he took her over the edge, falling limp on the pillows as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her, hugging him tightly inside her, ripple after ripple extracting a deep groan from his throat. She felt him move fiercely once more, shouted her name and stilled above and inside her, his pleasure so strong it pulsated through her.

He rolled to his side; rose on one elbow and with a shaking hand combed her splayed hair.

“You will be the ruin of me, Sophia,” he rasped and placed a light kiss on her shoulder.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Couldn’t even open her eyes. Her world was spinning.

“Sophia?” His hand cupped her face and turned it to him.

Her eyes fluttered open; the honey color transformed now to a yellow diamond color. “Need a minute,” she managed to say, a barely there smile on her lips.

He trapped her in his arms. “Sleep with me tonight. You don’t have to work tomorrow.”

“Hmm?” She tried to make some sense of his words. She raised her head a bit from his chest. “Your heart is beating too fast.” She smiled at him, her wondrous eyes shining and he melted completely.

“Stay with me. It’s late.”

“I don’t do sleepovers, Ethan.”

“I beg your pardon?” He looked astonished.
A woman that doesn’t want to stay overnight? With me?

“I only sleep alone,” she smiled, apologetic.

“Why?” he asked baffled.

She shrugged. “Because.”

“Please.” He caressed her hair, twisting a lock between his fingers. “I’ve never asked a woman to stay with me. I really wish you would stay, Sophia.”

“All right. I have to go home before one o’clock tomorrow,” she acquiesced. “Oh… I don’t have anything with me.”

“Clothes are not a problem. My secretary will bring you some, tomorrow morning.” He stood up, picked up his BlackBerry from his jeans on the floor, and started texting. “Do you want a T-shirt to sleep in?” he asked while he entered his walk-in closet and his bathroom.

She shook her head and rose from the bed, toeing off her high heels and gathering her clothes. “What are you doing?” she asked surprised when he exited the closet in pajama shorts, still texting.

“Informing my secretary what I want her to buy for you.” He raised his eyes to take a good look at her body.

“At this time of night?”

“Sophia, I pay her quite well. She works twenty-four-seven,” he said dismissively. “What is your shoe size?”

“I don’t need shoes. In fact, there is no need for clothes. I can return home in mine.”

He frowned at her. “You’re not going home wearing this dress and high heels. What size?”

“Er… Really, Ethan.”

“Aren’t you aggravating?” He grumbled and his demeanor suddenly darkened. “Do you want to arrive at home looking like a whore?”

Sophia flinched and paled.
Gabriela! What will Gabriela think?
“I think I should I go home now, Ethan,” she said in a small voice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.” He hastily apologized. “Please… Stay. I’ve never asked a woman to stay with me, Sophia,” he repeated. “It’s always the other way round.”

Almost two years since I have slept with a man. Should I indulge? Could I?
“All right. I will stay.”

“Shoe size?”

Oh, damn
.
My shoe size
. “Er… seven and a half for sandals, eight for shoes, and eight and a half for boots… UK size.” Sophia eyed him closely waiting for a smirk that didn’t come.
Good, Mr. Ashford
. “But sneakers would do.”

“Sneakers?” He made a face at her. “Do you want a shirt, baby?”

“I just want a toothbrush.” She smiled mischievously at him. “If you don’t mind, I sleep in the nude.”

He laughed, “I don’t mind at all.” He pulled her into his arms, kissing her tenderly. “Oh, Sophia.” He sighed. “There is something special about you…”

She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled at him.

“Tomorrow, I’ll drive you home.” He kissed her lips and grabbing her hand, towed her into the bathroom. He gave her a toothbrush and paste he had retrieved from a drawer. “Make yourself at home.”

God!
She shook her head, smiling when she entered the bathroom.
The man has art even in here
.

When Sophia reentered the bedroom, he was sitting on the bed waiting for her holding two flutes of champagne. No sign of the condom he had flung on the floor.

He stretched his hand, pulling her into the circle of his arms as they toasted and drank.

An emotion Ethan didn’t recognize unfurled in his chest. And then, he knew it would be her for him, forever.

After thirty-five years of waiting I’ve found my other half. She will be mine. My Sophia. Forever
.

Come hell or high water
.

Mine
.

He shook his head, scared to hell. “You don’t know what you have done to me, Sophia.”

A frightening scream shattered the air, waking Ethan.

He switched on the lamp on the bedside table. Sophia, on the other side of the bed, clutched her scarred arm and moaned, as if in pain. Her head thrashed on the pillow and she spoke incoherently.

“Nooooo!” she cried hoarsely, chilling Ethan as her pained voice laced the room.

Jesus!
He shook her by the shoulders. “Sophia! Sophia, wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”

She opened troubled eyes and looked around, confused. Her gaze fixed on his face and her breath whooshed from her. She put her hands on her face, heaving.

After a minute, she let her hands fall. “I’m sorry.” She pushed up on the bed and rested on the headboard, eyes closed. “That is the reason I don’t do sleepovers, Ethan.” Her voice shaky. “I have nightmares,” she sighed. “Terrible nightmares.” She left the bed. “I’ll be right back.” She crossed the room and entered the bathroom. She twisted her hair and made a loose bun. She waved her hand under the faucet, cupped the water. She wet her wrists, face, and nape.

Don’t look in the mirror, don’t look in the mirror
. She knew what she would see. Big, spooky, dark-brown eyes and white lips on an ashen face. They were neither her eyes, nor her features. They belonged to a ghost, not to her.

Sophia heard a knock and she turned. Ethan leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching her with worried eyes. “Everything okay?”

“No,” she grimaced, “but it will be.”

“Want some port? Or a whisky?” He stepped into the bathroom, thoughtfully. “Here.” He put a white cotton shirt beside her on the sink. “I’ll wait for you in the sitting room.”

“Wait.” She gripped his wrist and stared at him, her eyes troubled…
Get a grip, Sophia. You’re going to frighten the man away on the first night
. She let go of his hand. “It’s okay. I’ll be-”

He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist, his head dropping to her neck. “I’m here,” he whispered near her ear. “Come on.” He dressed her with the shirt, which fell to the middle of her thighs. “I like you in my shirt.” He smiled at her, leading her to the sofa. He retrieved a bottle of port from a small bar under the bookshelf. He looked at her and motioned to the opened champagne bottle, “Or perhaps do you want the champagne?”