His lids lowered. “Are you going to be good for me?”
“Never,” I said, but with my lips parted around the word, he slipped his thumb inside. The invasion felt strange and complete, like something I should fight, like something I couldn’t hope to fend off. I tasted salt and a sort of metallic flatness, like earth. My tongue tried to push him out, and only caressed him instead, licked him. His lower body surged against mine, reacting to the touch of my tongue. It was heady, that power, finally something I could control beyond kicking and screaming. Beyond throwing a temper tantrum. No longer child-like. A woman.
I closed my lips around his thumb and sucked, swirling my tongue around the tip and across the pad.
He groaned. “Your mouth feels so good. I can’t wait to fill it with my cock.”
My breath caught. “Dirty talk?” I managed. “That’s new.”
“Yes, well, I’m full of surprises.”
I laughed, breathless. That was the understatement of the year.
He sat back and pulled me up. “Let’s go inside. I didn’t make it this far to get arrested for public indecency.”
There it was again, a sly omission to his true identity. I wondered if he’d ever spell it out for me, if he could trust someone that much. A conversation could be recorded or at least recounted for a court of law. This innuendo, not so much.
It felt surreal to know that one of the FBI’s Most Wanted was in my house. I tried to tell myself this was serious, that it was bad. But if he wanted to hurt me, he could have already done it. He might still do it. There wasn’t much I could do to stop it from happening, if it was going to, so there was no use worrying about it.
That might have been a strange reaction. Maybe normal people were supposed to get scared when their abuser stalked and attacked them. But this was me, with my past, and I could only feel relief. Like falling off a cliff and laughing on the way down. Crazy from the perspective of those solid and safe on the ground. But in the air, with the wind in my face, the sheer momentousness transformed loneliness into respite, fear into joy.
He led me to my bedroom, walking in front of me instead of carrying me—both tender and commanding all at once. Then I had stirred only to find him gone. Here, now, I found the same thing. He hadn’t followed me inside.
I looked back and realized Ian stood in the doorway.
“Invite me in.”
“What, are you a vampire?”
He laughed darkly. “Why, afraid I’ll take your blood?”
The words sent a shiver down my spine. He’d drawn blood when he’d taken me. But he’d stopped shortly after that. He’d hurt me, and he’d been careful with me. He’d kidnapped me and cared for me. Our moments together were strung together with extremes, skating the edges before coming to rest in the middle.
“Come here,” I asked softly.
And he did, taking me in his arms and pushing me back on the bed. We fell together, landing in a sensual tangle of limbs and light. The windows had old lacy coverings that hung open. Neither of us made a move to push them closed. Neither of us turned on the light. I wanted to see him just like this, in silvery shadows. Without the fluorescent office lighting, without the blindfold. His body was made of reflection like this, the line of his hip and the curve of his bicep. Sleek muscles over bone, coarse skin sprinkled with hair. A beautiful male body that curved around me and pressed against me.
He touched and moved and conquered me until I gasped, breathless and naked. Modesty and shame meant nothing with him. There was a rare form of security with a man who had broken laws just to be with me, a surety that he wanted my body, craved it beyond normal reasoning.
And he proved it again in the way that he caressed me, not with hands and mouth. That would be too ordinary for him. With a pinch and drawn breath. Squeezing to the point of pain and a tear that fell from the corner of my eye. With a desperate shuddering sigh that made me run a finger along his brow. So much pain inside that he had to cause it to find relief. And that was fine. I was strong enough to take it. My body writhed, and my stifled cries filled the room, but I never told him to stop. Never wanted him to.
He licked my nipples, slow and tender. Then bit me, so hard it felt like I would bleed. I didn’t bleed though, not on the outside. Only inside, where it felt like I’d never come together again. Where bleeding wasn’t death, it was release. Where all my hopes and fears could spill into the air around us, leaving me pure and unbroken.