Anew: Book Three: Entwined (12 page)

I manage to stay still but only
just.

“And here,” he continues, applying
more of the whipped cream to each of my pebble hard nipples. The chill makes me
gasp but the cream warms swiftly in contact with my skin. Tiny rivulets of it
begin to paint the curve of my breasts.

“And here,” Ian says. His voice is
husky. He traces the line of my slit, gently parting me. “Or here.”

Although I knew what was coming, the
feel of the chilled cream
there
makes me gasp. Above me, in the shadows
cast by the palms, I see Ian’s smile. Our eyes meet for a moment before he
lowers his head and begins to suck my nipples, first one and then the other,
even as his fingers continue stroking between my thighs.

The pressure growing inside me
becomes irresistible. My back arches, drawn to him, yearning.

“Ian--” Why, oh, why, did I
describe--and in such explicit detail--what I thought or wanted or hoped or
feared he would do to me? Because apparently he is intent on carrying out every
single part of it.

Several times over.

Oh, god!

I look down the length of my cream-bedewed
body. Our eyes meet. I can only imagine what mine look like--dilated, dazed,
filled with excitement and yearning. But his…

The light in them is at once
demanding and tender with an added note of the salacious. It takes my breath
away. As does the dazzling expertise of his tongue dancing over me, so lightly,
so torturously and ultimately, just when I think I can’t bear it any longer, so
effectively.

I cry out, my back arching. Above
me the sky is streaking pink and orange. The parrots, startled, rise like
multi-colored thistledown against the sun. I am weightless, rising with them,
soaring until, at last, I settle back into myself still feeling feather-light.

Ian is looking at me. Gruffly, he
says, “You are beyond exquisite when you come.”

I should be embarrassed but I can’t
manage it. We’re beyond such concerns. With this man, I want to be only and
entirely myself. Reaching down, I brush my fingertips gently over his face.

My mouth curves in a smile as I
say, “Wild is definitely best.”

He laughs, suddenly boyish again,
and stands, drawing me with him. Pressing me hard against his length, he
tangles his fingers in my hair and pulls my head back gently. His lips brush
mine--slowly, savoring.

“You taste delicious, as always.”
His big, hard body rubs against mine. “But you’re also sticky.”

His cock is long, hard, and thick.
As always, I marvel at his control even as I want to take it from him.

“I like being sticky with you,” I
say.

“Do you?” he murmurs. “I’ll have to
see what I can do about that later but first--”

He draws me back under the
waterfall but before he can begin to touch me as he did earlier, I trail my
fingers down the soft arrow of hair that extends from beneath his naval to his
groin. The flare of heat in his eyes emboldens me.

Taking his cock in the palm of my
hand, I confess, “Your body fascinates me. It’s so beautifully formed--both supple
and muscular, perfectly balanced. I love the sweep of your shoulders, the way
your torso tapers downward, the sculpted strength in your legs…” Stroking him
lightly, I add, “I love seeing you get hard, knowing that you want me, feeling
how much--”

He makes a guttural sound low in
his throat and braces both of his arms against the smooth rock behind the
waterfall, effectively trapping me.

“You’ve become very bold,” he says,
smiling.

“It’s my nature,” I admit, wanting
him to understand. To remember. Meeting his gaze, I say, “I’m not spun glass,
Ian.”

At those words, the same ones he
used to describe how he treated Susannah, something flickers behind his eyes. A
spark of fear goes through me when I think that it’s regret. I don’t want him
to be sorry about anything that has passed between us, not at Carnival or any
other time. But even more, the thought that he might secretly wish that I was
like Susannah despite his claim otherwise makes me feel as though I’m teetering
on the edge of an abyss. I can’t help thinking that if he truly had no such
regret, he would find it in himself to say it again.

The saving grace is that
confronting my fear makes my inhibitions crumble. Still holding his cock, I rub
the tip of it lightly over the flat surface of my belly. On a breath of sound,
all I can manage, I murmur, “I lust for you, Ian. Every part of me does--my
body, my heart, my soul. Just catching sight of you or hearing your voice is
enough to make me wet. I can’t feel complete without you.”

Drops of his pre-come glisten
against my skin. I stare down at us, unable to look away. The sight enthralls
me until some instinct makes me look up. What I see wrings a gasp from me. Ian’s
gaze is raw, filled with ravenous hunger. I wanted him to lose control? By the
look of it, he has.

He wraps one arm around my waist
and with the other lifts me. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his lean
hips.

“Is this what you want?” he demands
as he shoves me back against the smooth rock face behind the waterfall. “Me,
like this, driven mad by you, desperate to possess you?”

With each word, he thrusts against
me, his cock rubbing all along my pussy, still swollen and hyper-sensitive from
our whipped cream interlude.

I hold onto him as waves of
pleasure build inside me. “Yes, oh, yes!”

Over the broad curve of his
shoulder, I see the glistening curtain of water separating us from the world.
The shards of light gleaming within it are suddenly exploding as Ian takes a moment
to position himself, then drives into me with a single deep thrust. I can’t
breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel every exquisite sensation that
he evokes.

The rock is smooth and cool behind
my back. My legs are spread wide, held firm in his grip. He’s holding nothing
back, surging harder and faster, hurtling us both toward shattering release.

The world spirals away from me. I
cling to him, my rock, my anchor, the only reality I want or need. I sob his
name, trying to absorb all of him into me even as my spirit overflows with
piercing gratitude that he is alive, whole and with me.

His wild urgency carries us both
away until, finally, we are left gasping, clinging to one another. We are still
together, my legs still around his hips, his cock only now softening within me
when he says, “I wasn’t entirely honest with you earlier.”

Drops of sweat fall from his
forehead and slip slowly down my breasts. I stare at him as a deep, thick
apprehension stirs in me. I know what’s coming, I have known all along at least
in some sense. I just haven’t wanted to face it until now when, in his arms,
our bodies still one, I find the strength to do so.

“This is about Davos, isn’t it?” I
say.

His eyes meet mine. In them, I see
the barely banked fires of his passion slowly giving way to implacable will.

“He is alive,” Ian says gruffly.
“That was confirmed a few hours ago. We’re closing in on his location.”

With care, he withdraws and sets me
down but he continues to hold me. Gently, as though he believes I will find
this reassuring, he says, “It won’t be long now.”

Bile rises in the back of my
throat. I want to scream at him not to put his life at risk yet again for my
sake, to weep, beg, plead, tear my hair, do whatever I have to keep him safe.
But I know how futile all that would be.

Accepting it, I let it go. In its
place, my own will rises. I am only beginning to understand that it is, in its
own way, as strong as his.

I take a step back, beyond the
sheltering circle of his arms, and look straight at him.

Ian isn’t the only one determined
to do what is right. So am I. Over the rush of the waterfall and the pounding
of our hearts, I say, “I’m going with you.”

Ian

“S
o what do you think?” Hollis asks. “Lemon chiffon or
chocolate?”

His voice breaks my train of
thought. I turn away from the monitors I’ve been staring at sightlessly and
come smack up against his broad grin.

 “What?” I ask.

He shrugs innocently, or as
innocently as an ex-Special Forces instructor turned ultra high end defense
contractor can look.

“Fiona can’t decide which she wants
for the wedding cake. She’s driving me crazy. So since you obviously can’t keep
your mind on business, maybe you’d like to chitchat about girlfriend management
issues instead.”

The barb hits home. I flush but I can’t
really be pissed. First, I’m happy for Hollis, who finally got up the nerve to
propose to his former high school girlfriend and recent bubble bath companion,
the latter being an image that I don’t need in my head. And secondly, he’s
right. I’m still reeling from the little bombshell Amelia dropped two days ago.

She thinks she’s going with me to
kill Davos?

Pigs. Fly.

Flying pigs with flaming farts
coming out their assholes, strumming ukuleles as they swoop and dive across the
sky.

 “What about raspberry?” I ask.

He looks horrified. “Oh, shit,
don’t suggest that to her. We’ll never get this settled.”

I drop my voice to glacier. “Then
how about you and I move on?”

No one has to remind me that I need
to focus but damn Amelia is making it hard. She won’t back down.

After two days of dealing with
stony looks and monosyllabic answers, I get that she’s not happy that I won’t
even consider letting her leave the atoll while Davos is still breathing. But
it doesn’t stop there.

In the wolf’s light of pre-dawn
this morning, I woke to the exquisite sensation of my cock in her mouth. She
didn’t say a word or make a sound, she just made me come. The woman plays by
her own rules, I have to give her that.

I drag my thoughts back--again--to
the matter at hand. “How close are we to pinpointing Davos’ location?”

“Closer than we were yesterday,”
Hollis says. “The bastard left breadcrumbs for us to follow everywhere from an
A-team hacker hang-out in Shanghai to a brothel in Majorca. But after that we
got lucky. All that work Clarence has been doing on human network mapping is
paying off. We’re down to a short list of half-a-dozen locations where Davos is
likely to be. We’ve got sat coverage on all of them now and within hours we’ll
have eyes on the ground at each set of coordinates.”

“Our people know to be careful? I
don’t want him tipped.”

“They know,” Hollis says as he
brings up the schematics for the target locations. For the next couple of
hours, we brainstorm attack plans, looking at points of entry and exit, likely
defenses, the risk of collateral damage, and so on. The exercise has a calming
effect on me. Finally, I’m able to think about something other than Amelia.

Except not really. Everything I’m
doing is for her sake, including not letting her anywhere near the mission. Now
all I have to do is get her to accept that.

Pigs. Fly.

At last, Hollis looks at me and
says, “I don’t know about you but I could use a break.”

I suspect that he thinks I need one
more than he does but I don’t call him on it. Instead, I say, “Good idea. I’ve
been meaning to drop by the dojo and touch base with Takashi. You know that
whole unit cohesion thing he has going--”

Hollis nods like he believes me. “Martial
arts training for the non-combats? That sounds like a good idea. Let me know
how it’s working out.”

I assure him that I will knowing
full well that Takashi doesn’t need me looking over his shoulder. What I really
want is to check in with Amelia and make sure that despite my refusal to
pretend that her idea about going with me is anything other than an insanely
dumb non-starter, we’re still good.

Takashi assured me that he wouldn’t
see how hard he could push a class of beginners. The thud of bodies that I hear
as I get near the dojo suggests that he and I may have different ideas about
what that means. I quicken my pace and step inside

just as a guy I
recognize from cyber-support brings down one of our mechanics with a quick two
step flip. She jumps right up and squares off against him with renewed
determination.

Nothing wrong
there. Maybe I’m worrying for no reason. I scan the room and see Amelia at the
far end. She’s been paired with…

What the hell?
Has Takashi lost his mind? Why would he match her with a six foot something logistics
specialist whose grinning at her like she’s his next meal?

And who promptly
takes a quick step back as she comes at him with a high, fast kick that stops
just short of the bridge of his nose, knocking him off balance, then whirls
around and lands one for real to his solar plexus.

Whoa, Amelia.
They teach that in ballet class?

Minutes later,
Mister Logistics is lying flat on the mat and Amelia’s glowing. Holding out a
hand to help him up, she looks more than ready for round two.

The hell with
that. Stepping out from behind the pillar where I have only just managed to
stay rooted, I catch Takashi’s eye. He raises a brow but walks over to Amelia
and has a few quiet words with her. She listens intently, nodding as he speaks.

Whatever he says
to her, it can’t be about my being here because she doesn’t so much as glance
in my direction. I’m wondering what it would take to get her to listen to me
like that when the next round starts.

This time Amelia
is paired with Daphne. I breathe a sigh of relief that turns into a groan when Amelia
flips the blond elf onto the mat so hard that the impact has to leave a bruise.
I’m still wincing when Daphne jumps up and returns the favor with extra.

Damn.
Back
and forth they go, looking for all the world like they’re out to kill each
other. The match gets so intense that the other students pause to watch. Only
respect for Takashi stops me from intervening.

He lets the
face-off play out until both women are bent over, hands on their knees, sucking
in air and grinning at each other. By the time he finally calls a tie I’m
thinking that maybe he’d like to swim back to Japan.

I scarcely
breathe until the class ends half-an-hour later. Until then, I only just manage
to hold myself in check as Amelia goes up against a guy who looks like a tank
and moves like one, too. Especially when he flips her across his hip and
hurtles her to the mat.

She gets up
wincing. I’m seeing red around the edge of my vision, thinking about all the
things I can do to him before he even sees me coming, when she regains her
balance and goes right back at it. Fuck if she doesn’t make him hurt but she
takes a few more bruises herself in the process.

Finally, it
ends. As the rest of the students file out, I cross the room quickly and take
hold of Amelia’s arm. She starts and for a moment I think she’s going to give
me a sample of what she’s been learning but then she realizes it’s me.

Her eyes narrow.
“Ian, what are you doing here?”

The fact that
she’s obviously not glad to see me stings. I didn’t really expect anything else
but still--

“What are you
trying to prove?” I demand. “From what I just saw, you could have been
seriously hurt half-a-dozen times at least.”

If I really had
any sense of self-preservation--something I’ve accused her of lacking--I’d stop
right there but I’m on a roll. “I’ve got a good mind to tell Takashi that you
can’t--”

I don’t get any
further. She jerks free, puts her hands on her hips, and glares at me. Her face
is flushed and her eyes are spitting fire. Damn if she doesn’t look amazing.
Not to mention really hot. And furious.

 “I can’t what?”
she demands. “Take this class? Because if that’s where you’re going, let me
tell you right now
don’t
. I’ve got as much right to be here as anyone.
And moreover, I’m good at this.”

She narrows her
eyes, training them on me like a laser beam about to scrape off my skin. Low
and hard, she says, “Maybe that’s what’s bothering you. I’m not the helpless
person you’d like to think I am. I can take care of myself.”

Score. She’s hit
me right where it matters most, deep inside issues about her, me, us, and above
all, the fear I have of losing her. I don’t react well to that kind of
challenge.

“Like you were
doing at the club?” I snarl.

Dumb, dumber
than dumb. I know it the minute the words are out but it’s too late. We’ve been
building up to this for two days, maybe longer if I’m being honest. Hell, maybe
since the first moment she walked into my life and I started making one mistake
after another where she’s concerned.

Fine then, let’s
do it. Takashi has cleared the dojo and after a last,
what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking glance at me, he disappears. Amelia and I are
alone.

It’s on.

“I didn’t notice
you getting yourself out of there, sweetheart,” I say.

A flash of hurt
moves behind her eyes, almost unmanning me, but she recovers quickly and hits
right back.

 “I wouldn’t
have been there in the first place,
sweetheart
, if you hadn’t been
dreaming of your lost love right after we--”

What the fuck?
What is she saying? I was dreaming of Susannah? Why would I do that. And even
if I did, how would she know?

A memory
stirs--deep, fuzzy, damaged but still enough for me to get the sudden sense
that I have screwed up royally. So, of course, my first instinct is to deny all
knowledge and play for time.

“What are you…I
did what?”

She shakes her
head and turns away, like she’s done with me. “It doesn’t matter. Just let me
go.”

The hell I will.
I don’t care what I did. Well, I do but it pales in comparison to how I feel
about Amelia. She’s not getting away from me.

My hand tightens
on her arm. Not enough to hurt--please god--but it happens all the same.

Amelia freezes.
She turns her head and looks at me. Her gorgeous eyes go hard. I realize what
she intends but my reflexes don’t kick in quickly enough to stop her.

She hooks a foot
around my right ankle at the same time that she pivots, using my own weight
against me. It’s a classic beginner’s move; I should have seen it coming a mile
off. As it is, all I’m seeing is the ceiling of the dojo from flat on my back.

Amelia moves
into view over me. She looks surprised, although she’s trying to hide it, and
far too pleased with herself.

No fucking way.

I jackknife to
my feet and take two steps toward her, still giving her time to stand down. Instead,
after a bare second’s hesitation, she lobs a kick in my direction. I avoid it
easily.

“Seriously?” I
ask, staring at her.

Damn if I don’t
see the second kick coming. “You think I’m weak,” she says even as she lands a
blow just south of where it would have had a real effect. Apparently, she’s not
mad at my cock, just at the rest of me.

“You’ve thought
that from the beginning,” she adds, spinning around and getting off a punch
that I only just manage to block. “I’ve told you over and over. I’m not spun
glass--”

She aims a punch
at my jaw but pulls it at the last minute. The horrible suspicion occurs to me
that she’s going easy because of my recent injuries. A moment later, I have
reason to rethink that.

“I’m not
Susannah.” Kick. “I’m not like her at all.” Kick. “The truth is that I’m a hell
of a lot stronger.” Kick. “I’ve had to be.”

Busy dodging the
barrage of blows she’s aiming at me, I’m nonetheless struck by what she’s
saying. Why has she had to be stronger? I’ve known for awhile now that there’s
something she isn’t telling me.

What starts as
regret that she would withhold any part of herself from me blossoms swiftly
into something a whole lot bigger and darker. I’ve bared my soul to this woman,
admitted what my father’s influence did to me, while she--

“Enough!” I
snarl and go at her, bringing both of us down hard and fast. She’s under me on
the mat but she’s still struggling. There are tears on her cheeks. For a
moment, I’m struck by the sickening thought that I’ve hurt her.

“Amelia?” I hear
the concern in my voice but maybe she doesn’t because she redoubles her efforts
to get away. She’s fighting me in earnest.

Desire--molten
hot and remorseless--rips through me. I don’t think, I just grab hold of her
arms, stretching them above her head while at the same time pinning her legs to
the mat with mine. I’m hard and getting harder fast. My erection presses against
her.

I see the moment
when she realizes. Her eyes widen, the pupils dilating. Her breath is as ragged
as my own.

Holding my gaze,
she says, “Do it.”