Chapter 26

Four days passed in a daze. Ophelia's father called her as soon as he arrived in New York. And as the doctor predicted, his gunshot wound broke open and an infection set in. But he cheerfully announced that he was receiving excellent care at a local hospital, currently and officially retired, and richer than God – or so he claimed. Ophelia knew better than that, but for the first time in her adult life she actually looked forward to going home for the holidays this year. She felt that they crossed a bridge of some sort and wanted to make the best of the time her father had left.

The rest of her days were full of working in the bookstore and growing lonely from the absence of friends in her life. Tiki's sister had an emergency hysterectomy, so she had to leave for a few days. And Noah stopped pestering her. He seemed to spend most of his free time with Mira, at the coffee shop or upstairs in his apartment. Ophelia swore that if she had to listen to one more hour of his bed frame bouncing through the ceiling, she was burning the darned thing – with him and Mira still in it. But deep down, she felt happy for him. The few times they ventured downstairs, they were obviously very enamored with each other, and that made Ophelia's heart sing for her cousin.

Ian...well, he was a different issue altogether. After that night when he stayed with her, she didn't see him once. He never went into the coffee shop across the street – and Ophelia kept a tight vigil on the place – and he didn't come to see her either.

So, after four days, Ophelia realized...she missed him. Very much. She missed his gorgeous smile and deep chuckle, and she missed they way he tilted his head to study her with his remaining senses and the way he touched her with his sensitive fingertips, sending shock waves up her spine. She missed how he could always work up her nervous energy and make her forget her own name when he said it in that very sexy voice of his. And she missed the way he always claimed she was the most beautiful woman in the world...even if he couldn't see her. She missed feeling wanted and loved.

The advance from her modeling burned a hole in her wallet. She had yet to deposit it in her bank accounts, and thinking of doing so gave her heartburn. How could she accept that much money when she didn't fulfill the obligations of the contract she signed? And how would he be able to finish the pieces for his exhibit without her to pose for him? Or did he decide to find someone else?

That thought gave her a near heart attack.

Standing in the middle of her bookstore, she wrapped her arms around her waist and fought off another wave of tears. He said he loved her, and yet he hadn't pursued her like he proclaimed. Did she love him? Could she love him? What did she possibly have in her emotional armory to prepare her for such a feeling?

But if she didn't take a chance on him, she’d never know.

With her mind made up and her eyes dried, she announced that she was leaving for the rest of the day. Tandy didn't look up from his/her magazine as Ophelia grabbed her purse and went in search of Ian. She found him in his studio, the music from his stereo system blaring so loudly it muffled the sound of the door clanging shut and her heeled pumps tapping across the cement floor.

She paused for a moment to watch him. With his back turned to her, he seemed oblivious to her presence as he chiseled tiny chunks of wood out of a giant, round sculpture...the face of the woman in the wood coming to life before her eyes.

That's me, she thought with amazement. That's...me. It's...I'm beautiful.

Ian stopped his work and cocked his head toward her. An eternity drifted by, and he put down his tools and slowly walked to her. She licked her lips, taking in his masculine stride and clear green eyes behind his safety goggles.

“Hi,” she struggled to say calmly, but the lone word came out of her mouth more as a sigh than anything.

He halted three feet in front of her. “Hi.”

“I-I...um, I'm here for our next session,” she managed to say.

Relief washed over her like a soothing bubble bath when he didn't make a snarky comment about the night they last spoke. Instead, he only nodded slightly and took her hand. He led her to the same stool she sat on before. Ophelia boosted her bottom up the high seat and wished her heart would stop pounding so loudly. Ian left her to roll a long table over to where she sat and placed another brick of soft clay on its surface.

Then the touching began anew. Ophelia closed her eyes and just barely contained her sigh of pleasure at the way he caressed her skin. Neither spoke, but neither needed to. This time here...this time together like this...she could bask in the way he loved on her and safely imagine him doing this to her every day of her life.

*****

Ian kept a lid on his heart as he memorized her features all over again. He'd been half afraid that after all these days, he'd remembered her falsely. But no. Her skin was as soft as ever. Her lips, as lush...her cheekbones, as dainty... Time came to a standstill as he smoothed both his palms and all his fingers over her face, the clay beside him forgotten.

Still unable to believe that she showed up today, his mind wandered back to that night after Mira called him. Ophelia's father had been shot. Though he didn't like the man and Ophelia said some interesting things about her father, he knew her. She'd go to him, because that's who she was. And she would be hurting. He shoved aside his anger and anguish then and went to her. She'd been more worn out than he'd originally assumed. She couldn't even make it up the stairs properly that night.

So, when he put her to bed, he couldn't leave her. He stayed with her, unable to keep from touching her all night as she slept. And when dawn rose up that morning, he finally found the energy to leave. If she'd woken to him in her bed, there was no telling what she might say to him, and his heart didn't own the stamina to endure more pain.

But he knew it wasn't all her fault. He'd said some things that fateful night, intentionally meant to hurt her as much as he'd been suffering. The apology of his life formed on his lips, and when she leaned her cheek into his hand, he whispered, “I'm sorry.”

“I know,” she whispered back, “and I'm sorry, too.”

His throat seized up. “Ophelia...”

“Don't,” she said, placing a finger over his mouth. “Just...just kiss me, Ian.”

He did. He cradled her face gently as he pressed his lips to hers, sending all the feelings he had for her in that one little touch, and she kissed him back with as much tenderness as he could ever hoped for. The kiss deepened and intensified, and a strong urgency raced up his body, strengthening his hold on her. A cute, mewing moan escaped her lips. His pulse increased. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and it was enough to send him over the edge.

With wishful thinking, he'd tucked a handful of new condoms in his bag yesterday, and if he could only convince her to join him in his office, he'd love nothing more to finish what they started four nights ago. Ian backed away, using every remaining sense to determine a possible reaction to what he was about to ask her. She didn't give him the chance.

Ophelia slid off the stool and grasped his hand. This time, she led him...straight to his office, where she closed the door behind them and locked it. Rooted to the floor, Ian felt as nervous as a teenager about to experience his first sexual act. Ophelia didn't speak. Her hands shook violently as they settled on his forehead, lightly caressing across his brow and down his cheekbones. They trailed further down his neck, lower over his shirt, tickling his abdominal muscles, and settled around his hips.

By then her whole being trembled with nerves, but he allowed her the freedom to take charge of the seduction. Hesitantly, she kissed him again, one soft touch to his mouth, then another on his chin, tracing a line of kisses down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt. All the while, her hands nimbly pulled the hem of his shirt up as her cool fingers sent tendrils of fire through his skin, in every spot she touched him and some spots she didn't. He raised his arms as she removed his shirt, and her mouth followed her fingers as it tasted a line across his chest and down his stomach.

Ian stopped breathing, and his lungs protested with the lack of oxygen. In all the years since learning about the appeal of a woman's body, he'd always been the seducer, never the seduced. And for a woman who claimed limited knowledge on such things, she was doing an amazing job. It was damn difficult to stand there calmly – well, relatively calmly – and take it.

He twitched when her hands pulled his belt free of the loops, wanting so much to take over and get her as naked as possible, as quickly as possible. But she continued – tortuously unhurried – stripping him of his clothes until he posed in front of her in all his manly glory. Ophelia took his hands in hers and allowed him to feel how she undressed herself, undoing every tiny button of her blouse, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the floor, unfastening her bra, and slipping her panties down her hips to land on top of her other clothes. She dropped three inches in height when she kicked off her shoes, and he began to sweat from wanting her so much.

If what she'd done so far wasn't enough to give him heart failure, her next act startled him enough to send his pulse scrambling for a reboot. He had no idea where it came from, but she grasped his erection and rolled a condom down its length. Then she stepped into his arms and whispered, “I'm all yours.”

His control snapped. He whipped her around and pressed her back against the wall. His mouth sought hers, lapping up her very essence as his hand fled down her body to find the heated core of her womanhood. He slipped a finger inside her, and...Sweet Lord! He'd never felt a woman more ready for a man. He couldn't wait. Ian hitched her knee up around his hip and thrust into her.

“Momma Mia,” she cried in his ear. “Oh, yes! Yes! Yes!”

So much for slowing down... He'd never believe that sweet, innocent Ophelia would be a screamer. He drove into her, stroked her from the inside, staking his claim on her body, grasping and squeezing handfuls of that miraculous ass, and she groaned and moaned and trilled against his neck and into his mouth, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. Her muscles quivered under his fingertips, and he felt her inner walls clench around him.

“Ian!...Oh, heavens! Ian!”

He cupped her lush bottom tighter, pulling her up off her feet and angling deeper into her. “Let go, love,” he said breathlessly. “Just let it happen.”

“I...I can't,” she wailed. “It won’t…God!”

Shit...she's so close. “What do you need, love?” he asked her, slowing down to gather his wits. Ophelia wasn't the only one who was close to exploding.

“I don't...I don't know...maybe you just go ahead and, um, you know…finish.”

He picked her up and carried her to the couch, knocking his shins on the lower edge and gently laying her down, keeping their intimate connection. Hovering over her body, he kissed her sweetly, preventing her desire from cooling while his brain regained control over his instincts. He couldn't screw this up for her. He refused to bungle her first real orgasm...her first real experience with making love the way two people should. How many men in her life had done that? How many lovers had slaked their desires on her delectable body and left her wanting? Ian understood just how easy that desire could take over a man when buried up to his hipbone in Ophelia's heavenly body, and he did not want to join that club.

If anything, he was about to start his own club. The one to make love to Ophelia properly, a one-man club...no one else was allowed to join. “I can’t do that,” he said fiercely. “I won’t do it. I won’t be another disappointment to you, Ophelia.”

“Oh, Ian,” she sighed, her voice thick as though close to crying. “I guess I’m just not made that way. You tried…It’s not you; It’s me. I can’t do it.”

“No! You can do it,” he urged hotly. “I’ll find a way…I promised you.”

“Ian…”

“Shh,” he commanded, kissing her again. “I can do this.” She didn’t protest again, but he felt her body sag like she’d given up. She came to him today, and that kind of honor didn’t come around a second time.

What he needed was to concentrate...truly pay attention to her. To listen to her breathing patterns and heartbeat, to feel the flush of heat on her skin, to taste the passion on her lips…to inhale the sweetness of her scent and push all those sensations to the point of no return.

So, he did. With their mouths still united in a sizzling kiss, he began to explore her entire being in ways no average man had ever done. He kept a steady rhythm to his strokes that coupled them, but his nose flared, drawing in every little miniscule change of her smell, and his taste buds sparked as they focused on the alterations of her flavor. All the while, his hands massaged their way down her shoulders to her breasts.

When he cupped them gently, she exhaled slowly, and when he squeezed them, her breath sucked in sharply, but when he ran his thumbs over the distended nipples, her back arched and she moaned with pleasure. For a short time, he did all those things, even taking his mouth down there to love on those twin globes with ardor, but he soon figured that not much else changed in her.

So…he moved his hands down her belly to the nest of curls between her legs. The little bud hidden in her folds swelled with anticipation, and immediately as his fingertip brushed over it, her whole body jerked and tensed. That reaction accompanied a husky whimper of yearning that nearly caused him to spiral out of control. He played and teased her with swirling touches and slow glides down the sides and up the middle…but though Ophelia’s breath stuttered a bit and her heart sounded out tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-tha-tha-thump, she didn’t seem any closer to her climax than before.

And that just won’t do.

Determined as he’d never been before, Ian set his jaw and hit her from all angles. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, massaged one breast with one hand and her clitoris with the other…and nudged her hips upward so that he stroked the ceiling of her insides, going deeper inside her than he thought possible…and he sensed it coming.

She ceased to participate in their kiss as her mouth gaped opened, panting out miniature gasps of, “Oh…oh…oh…yes…there…” He didn’t know which part of there she meant, but why nitpick? Her hands clutched his shoulders and her body bowed upward, suspending over the couch. Her head fell back, and he felt her…the muscles of her inner wall constricted around him so tightly, it was almost painful…and she screamed.

Ian wanted to jump up and down with joy. He grinned brightly and kept pumping, letting her get all she could out of the experience. His own orgasm came and went with only a slightly smaller reaction, yet he almost – almost, mind you – screamed out, “I love you!”

Bringing her down from that high required all the self-control he possessed. He wasn’t ready to end their lovemaking just yet. Inside her, he felt this was where he belonged, this was his reason for existing, the reason that God created Earth and Heaven and all the angels, for him to love on Ophelia, the sole reason love existed in the universe at all. He dropped his head down to nuzzle her neck and she slumped into the cushions of the couch and said, “Oh…my goodness. I never imagined…”

“I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he said with a chuckle, slowing his movements but not letting himself slid out of her just yet.

“Oh, yes. I enjoyed it very much,” she replied softly, and he felt her smile at him.

He searched for her mouth, wanting – needing – to taste the saccharine adrenaline rushing through her veins. “Good,” he whispered on her lips. “How about another?”

She gasped and then giggled and then moaned as he picked up speed again.