Chapter 15
Ian
I was drunk, and that was going to be the excuse I used when I found myself daydreaming about her. I’d tried to shake my head and wish away the sudden images that were popping in. But the silence wouldn’t let it happen.
In my daydream, a small moan left Kate’s lips. "Ian..."
I wanted to press nibbling kisses over her long, sensitive neck. I wanted to kiss, lick, suck, and nibble every inch of exposed flesh.
I envisioned her delicate hands sliding into my hair, gripping hold of me, pulling me closer. I imagined her grabbing my shirt right at the hem along my lower back. I imagined her sliding a hand to my front to travel the length of my body.
I shivered, almost as if I felt it in real life — the sensation of her delicate soft hands atop my burning skin. I wondered if she touched me if she might get the same satisfaction that I would experience by having her touch me — or better yet, by touching her.
It was almost like I could feel her warm hands pull at me, and her hips against mine as our mouths made contact with each other. I imagined teasing her lips, barely touching them to mine before capturing her lower one just between my teeth, tugging and suckling gently.
I imagined her sigh, a sigh of pure ecstasy and bliss. I was growing impatient with my own thoughts. I hated that I liked someone so much that I was willing to think about what it was like just touching her…
Usually when I imagined myself with someone I would jump ahead to the action—the real action, that is. I didn’t usually imagine sex like this, though. Never a soft, gentle thought of something closer to lovemaking rather than just pure hungry sex.
I wondered what it was like to shove my mouth on hers and have our lips sync into a wonderful, longing rhythm. I wanted her to wrap her legs around my waist, pull me closer as I felt her tongue on mine.
I wanted to feel the electricity that I knew was between us — even knowing what I knew now. I wanted to explore every crevice of her mouth, and I wanted her to do the same with me. I wanted to feel her hot heated breath fall over my skin when she gasped my name.
I wanted my hands to flow through her luscious red hair and wander down her body — that perfect, perfect body — so far that I’d find her soft delicate skin doing the impossible, lighting a fire of friction right in the palm of my hands, scorching me to the core.
I could only hope that I wouldn’t be alone in my exploration. I could only hope that she’d want me just as much as I wanted her. I could only hope she’d explore me, tear away at my shirt and never pull away from my kiss unless it was to gasp for a much needed breath.
I imagined what it’d feel like to feel her hands roam down my bare chest, and I felt myself tighten in my pants, despite the large amount of alcohol in my system.
I wondered what it’d be like to feel her mouth on mine, our tongues dueling as we ripped at each other’s clothes. I wondered if I’d have the strength and smoothness to skillfully rip everything away without damaging it. Over the years I’d perfected the art of undressing a woman. It was something I was proud of. Because hell, I knew how I was — I was impatient, and not only was I impatient, I was also very in-the-now. When it came to sex, I was ready. The problem was that women — no matter how in a hurry, no matter how heated, no matter how incredibly turned on — hated when you ripped their clothes.
Once I got her clothes off, I wanted to know what she tasted like. I wanted to expose her breasts. I wanted to drink them in with my eyes and tease every single inch of her with my tongue.
I wanted to look into her innocent eyes and see mischief. I wanted to see the look of pure enjoyment — of blissful lust — all over her face.
I wanted her to tease me, too. I wanted her to tighten her legs around me and press the most sensitive area of her against me. I wanted her to grab me. Squeeze me. Claw me. Shred me to fucking pieces.
A low, throaty groan escaped my lips as I thought about it all.
“Kate,” I found myself moaning out, completely absorbed in my own imagination.
Somehow I’d made it back to my dad’s chair, but moaning Kate’s name woke me from my fantasy. My eyes shot open and I sat up in the chair, sweat trickling down the back of my neck, dampening my shirt collar.
In all honesty, I’d felt bad for fantasizing about someone I’d ended things with. Or, someone who was basically supposed to be my sworn enemy. I couldn’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous that sounded — even in my head. My sworn enemy. Kate wasn't an enemy—far from it.
I pulled at the top few buttons of my shirt and pulled my shirt open just a little more. My bare chest felt cooler almost immediately as the air from the room whispered against it.
I wondered if I’d drifted off. I wondered if parts of my fantasy Kate images were actual dreams, but I didn’t bother thinking about it too long.
My brain was flooded and I really needed to lie down. But just as I was about to stand to head toward my room, a loud banging sounded from my apartment door.
It took a moment to realize what was happening, but then it clicked. Someone was there, and they sure as hell weren’t going away by the sound of it. The knock was loud, hurried, and annoying.
I groaned at the incessancy and rudeness of it.
“Who the fuck?” I got up from the giant chair, suddenly realizing just how tipsy I was. The room started to spin, as well as the buildings outside my window. I groaned and closed the curtain with one hand. Setting my drink down on the kitchen counter just a few wobbly steps away, I shouted, “Who is it?”
No answer. I walked to the door. I honestly didn’t give a damn who it was; I just wanted them to go the fuck away.
Whoever it was, they were going to get a huge piece of my mind. No one needed to get into my apartment as much as this person’s knocking seemed to suggest. The pounding continued, as if the knocker had an issue with my door.
“Hold the fuck on!” I yelled. I gripped hold of the door handle, but just before I slung the door open, I halted. Maybe this was a stupid move. I had no idea who this could be. Did I really want to open it quickly, without any sort of thought of what kind of psycho waited on the other side? A small bit of determined carefulness might have been the answer I needed. So instead of slinging the door open, full force, I opened it slowly.
“What the fuck do you want this late in the—?” I started to bellow, hoping that a bout of anger might scare someone away if they intended me harm. But what I saw caused my breath to catch, and I couldn’t finish the question.
Kate. She was standing there, right in front of my door.
I didn’t know whether to be happy, to be relieved, or to be worried.
Maybe I was losing my mind all over again. Or dreaming. Was she actually there, or was she a mirage? She could be the product of the most realistic fantasy I’d ever had in my entire life.
I didn’t know what to feel. Didn’t know what to say.
“We need to talk!” she barked, and immediately I knew that this was no fantasy.
I had no idea why she was here, or how. But there she stood, and all of a sudden, the energy in the room was intense. It crackled all around us and pulled tighter and tighter. I felt so many emotions whirling up inside of me, assaulting me from the inside out. I knew my facial expression probably looked pained. It wasn’t pain, though; it was confusion that I was feeling. It was raw emotion. I wanted nothing more than to take this woman in my arms and kiss her.
In that moment, I realized something. I didn’t give a shit if she was Michael Murphy’s daughter. I liked her too much for something stupid like that to matter.
I held my face still, trying not to show too much emotion until I could figure out why she was here. For all I knew, she was there just to punch me in the face and leave. It would be nothing less than I deserved, after the way I treated her today.
“Come in.” I moved to the side and gestured toward the living room, almost lazily, as if I didn’t care at all.
“You, Ian Cross, are the biggest phony ass, lying assfunk I have ever met. And on top of that, I can’t believe you’re going to judge me by my family!” she started as soon as she crossed the threshold into my apartment. She didn’t even wait until I closed the door to start in on me.
Before I could respond, she continued, “How dare you assume that I’m a certain kind of person just because your dad had issues with mine? I kept out of my father’s business on purpose.”
I could tell that a lot of her feelings had been pent up and I wondered if she’d been thinking about our encounter all day like I had been.
“I’ve always wanted to be my own person,” she snarled. “I disagree with most everything my dad says, pretty much, and every action he takes. Shame on you for making assumptions!”
I couldn’t help but watch her as she paced back and forth, her hair wild, her face flushed. She had never looked, or sounded, any more amazing than she did right then. “I’ve been distancing myself from him and his ways ever since I can remember. I love him, but I’m not him. And you’re an asshat for thinking I might be.”
I realized how stupid I’d been.
She was a good person. A beautiful person, inside and out.
She was caring — not just with her sister, but other people too. I mean, hell, she had even tried to rescue me when I forgot my wallet. Who did that in New York City these days? Who was kind in the city at all, really? Especially to strangers?
And she had a fucking amazing desire to make the world a better place. She wanted to be a teacher for Christ’s sake. Special education. She was a miracle, and she was here in my apartment.
I smiled as I thought about all the wonderful things she was, while she continued to rant. After a couple of minutes, she suddenly noticed my grin.
“Not to mention, you have a fucking girlfriend already. And what the fuck are you smiling about?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit at the outburst, but she didn’t seem amused. She stopped and took a deep breath, as if trying to size up the enemy: me.
We stared at each other for what seemed like forever, and I felt my smirk completely fade away.
“Well, say something,” she whispered.
The whispering was worse than the ranting. It meant she was calming down, and some of the passion was leaving her. No, I couldn’t have that. I opened my mouth to speak, but words wouldn’t come. This was an important moment, and just minutes ago I’d been ready to pass out. My buzz was all but gone now, after being flooded with the adrenaline that had started up as soon as she walked in.
I took a step toward her. Don’t think about it, Ian. Just do it. I took her in my arms and pulled her toward me.
My lips crashed into hers with more passion than I’d ever experienced before. For the briefest moment, she seemed to melt into me, clenching me even tighter. But just as quickly, she pulled away.
“I can’t do this. Not with a man who is trying to get back together with his ex-girlfriend,” she said as she pushed me away from her.
I tilted my head, not quite sure I even heard her right. “What did you just say? What ex-girlfriend? I’m not trying to get back with anyone,” I insisted. “I haven’t even had a girlfriend since well before my dad died.”
Her hard glared softened into confusion.
“What ex are you talking about, Kate?” I asked her again.
“Umm. Amelia,” she stuttered out.
I laughed. Loudly and uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop myself. The idea that I would ever work things out with Amelia was one of the funniest things I’d heard in some time.
“This is not funny, Ian,” she exacted.
“Oh, I beg to differ,” I snorted between laughs. “The idea of me being with that self-centered, money-hungry witch again is hilarious. Where did you get such a crazy idea?” I asked as I calmed my amusement.
“She told me,” Kate announced matter-of-factly.
“Well, she is delusional if that’s what she thinks,” I said shaking my head in disbelief. I took a few steps closer to Kate, closing some of the gap she’d put between us. With a gentler tone, I told Kate how I felt. “Besides, Kate, there’s only one woman I want to make amends with.
“She wrinkled her nose. “How much have you had to drink tonight, Ian?”
I stopped in my tracks and exhaled hard. Dammit. She was going to think I was even worse than I’d thought my dad had been.
" You’re going to lecture me about this, now?” I sighed dramatically as I threw myself on the couch. I realized after I’d done it, that it probably looked childish. But I felt myself sobering even more as I flopped back against the cushions.
A few moments passed before she finally broke the silence and walked closer to me. “I’m not judging. I pretty much ate my feelings this afternoon. You should have seen the size of that hamburger."
“Those must have been some major feelings, then.” I glanced up.
She looked at me with kind eyes, beautiful eyes full of compassion. They still flashed with emotion and agitation, but behind that, I could tell she really cared.
I wanted her badly.
I wanted her then—right then.
I had a sudden urge to reach out and touch her. Her face, her hair—anything, really. I just wanted to touch her. I wanted to run a hand through her loose curls and pull her toward me.
“I guess that means you’re the only person in the world not judging me,” I said, smiling.
“I’m not judging, but you’ve definitely had more than enough.” She grinned, and I couldn’t help but flash her a sideways grin in return.
We continued to gaze at each other. I kept marveling at how strange it was that she was here. And now that she wasn’t yelling at me, I felt a sense of peace growing inside of me. There was no argument, there was no bullshit about our families or my company. There wasn’t any of that shit to get in the way.
It was just us, as if nothing had happened. As if she was still just the woman I’d met in Starbucks. As if there was no reason she shouldn’t be here in my suite with me tonight and glowing like this with emotion and kindness.
I broke the silence. “Kate?”
“Mmm?” she said in a tone that made me, once again, feel a familiar constricting in my pants.
I smiled and propped my elbow on the couch pillow. “Are we done with your rant?”
Stupid move. I watched as the content expression on her face changed again.
“Are you this big of an asshole all the time?”
“Pretty much,” I admitted sheepishly.
“It’s a miracle you have any friends at all.” She looked like she was about to start yelling all over again.
“I actually don’t have a lot of friends,” I said. “No one really likes me unless it’s for my money.” I chuckled a little bit, because, in all honesty, it was true.
“Shocking,” she said with a wry look.
I looked hard at her and gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not really a nice person, I guess.”
“I thought you were,” she said softly. I could tell that she was being genuine for a moment, but then she smiled devilishly and continued. “But then I guess I got to know you.”
“So you’re saying that my shining personality didn’t draw you to me!” I laughed, standing up, pretending to be offended.
“No,” she said, still smiling. “It was your suit. I could tell you had money.”
“You could tell I had money even though you had to pay for my coffee that first day?” I laughed and moved closer to her. She was just a few tantalizing steps away. “I just always thought it was my wit that drew you to me.”
“You’re not that witty, actually,” she said, eyeing the distance between us.
“My charm, then?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Hmmm . . . It wasn’t your charm, either.” She seemed to be thinking. “Honestly, I don’t know what it was.”
But I could tell from the glimmer in her eye that she knew exactly what it was. So without any more bullshit between us — I pulled her to me once again, and kissed her.
I thought I’d had meaningful kisses with her before, but this was the most passionate kiss I’d ever experienced.