“I knew there was something I liked about you.” He reached out and caressed her cheek, a small gesture, but one he hoped gave her a clue as to how their night would unfold.
“Come sit down, it’s all ready.”
He removed his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, then loosened his tie, sighing deeply as he sat.
London went to the kitchen and returned with two more dishes that she set on the table before sitting down herself.
“I didn’t know what kind of food you like—”
“Anything that doesn’t come from a paper bag,” he joked.
“Good. I made you a traditional Persian dinner—koresh, which is the stew in that red dish, kuku, a soufflé with lots of vegetables, and nan. You’ve probably had nan at Indian restaurants.”
Derek looked hungrily at all of it. “Show me how to serve it all and keep it coming,” he said.
She laughed and began scooping rice and stew onto his plate.
Thirty minutes later Derek took the last bite of kuku and the last swallow of wine and leaned back in his chair. “That was seriously one of the best meals I’ve had in months. Where did you learn to cook like that?”
London’s eyes shifted away briefly before she answered. “My mother loved to cook. She taught me.”
He knew her family was a sensitive subject for her, but he’d decided that helping London rediscover her feelings of all sorts, on all levels, was his new mission in life, and that required some gentle prodding.
“She’s a professor? Linguistics?”
“Yes. Last time I heard anyway.”
“And you miss her.” He stated it as accepted fact, because anyone who saw the look on London’s face when she discussed her mother could see it in a moment.
“Sometimes,” she answered quietly. “But then I remember the things she’s done and I stop missing her at all.” She gave him a look that challenged him to pursue the topic further and he altered course.
“So, in gratitude for the spectacular meal, why don’t I do the dishes and make us a couple of nightcaps?”
She stood and grinned. “Be my guest. I’ll be in the living room.”
Once cleanup was finished, Derek grabbed the tray with the cocktails and the whipping cream he’d found in her refrigerator and went to her in the living room where she was flipping through a magazine.
“All right, it’s late, I’m taking you upstairs.”
She stared at him, eyes wide.
“Don’t give me that look,” he warned. “I’ve had one of the worst days of my life and about the only thing that got me through was thinking about being with you at the end of it. I told you we were going to work on your issue. Nothing you’re not ready for, but I’m going to be the teacher and you’re the student, and class is starting so get your pretty ass up the stairs.”
London’s mouth dropped, and for a moment she looked like a gaping fish. Derek laughed and reached out to grab her hand, pulling her from the sofa.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, balancing the tray in his other hand. He brushed his lips up the long column of her neck until he reached her ear where he nipped at the tender little lobe. “Come on gorgeous, let me show you that feeling things isn’t all bad.”
She gasped and arched her back, pressing into him harder. He spun her and smacked her on the ass. “Move it. Now.”
She looked back at him over her shoulder, smirking before scurrying up the stairs. He followed chuckling.
London landed on the bed with a bounce, Derek’s big frame following her down until she lay flat under him as he hovered over her, his arms and knees creating a cage that trapped her, willing detainee that she was. His eyes sparkled as he took her in, and she felt her heart rate pick up at the heat in his stare.
He kissed her softly on the lips before pulling back. “Nothing you can’t handle. Only good stuff, and if you start to feel like things are going too fast you just say so, right?”
She nodded, itching for him to touch her, because even though it was frightening, it was also intoxicating.
He blew softly on her neck and cheek, licking the same earlobe he’d nipped a few moments ago. She felt her entire body turn to hot liquid, her center beginning to burn and ache.
“But first things first,” he murmured. He stood, leaving cold air washing over her. She felt bereft immediately. He walked to the corner of the room where he’d put a duffle bag at some point earlier in the evening, and after rummaging in it for a few moments, emerged with a blindfold.
Her eyes widened. “Mr. Ambrose, I would have never guessed.”
“Hush,” he said, grinning evilly. “This is all in the name of your instruction.” He strode back to the bed. “Off with the top.”
She sat up and watched the expression on his face as she slowly removed her sweater, leaving on only a lacey pink bra.
Derek’s eyes grew hungry. “Pink,” he murmured. “Perfect.” He handed her the blindfold. “Put this on.”
She took it, but before she could slide it into place Derek began unbuttoning his dress shirt and she paused to watch, her mouth watering when he revealed all those muscles covered in smooth skin and a light dusting of golden hair.
“Blindfold, gorgeous,” he rumbled.
She pouted but pulled the blindfold down over her eyes.
“Now, lie back, cede some control to me and let me make you feel all the best things.”
London lay still, waiting in heightened anticipation for what might come next. She heard rustling, and then Derek’s hands were unbuttoning her jeans. She stiffened.
“Shh. Just getting you more comfortable, nothing you don’t want, I promise.”
She relaxed as he peeled the denim from her legs leaving her in the matching bra and panties set.
“Jesus you’re gorgeous,” he rasped out. He ran his hands up and down her legs, his touch whisper soft, on the outsides of her legs only, stopping when he reached her hips. Over and over until she felt a thousand tiny sparks dancing along her skin and her breathing hitched.
“Do you feel that?” he whispered in her ear. “It’s electric, this thing between us.”
She sighed, melting into his touch, and then he was gone. She writhed, needing to feel him there with her again. Then she heard it, a hissing sound, and the smell of vanilla wafted around her. Something cold danced over her belly and in its wake she felt hot, rough flesh stroke along with the coldness. The whipped cream. He was licking the whipped cream off of her skin, and it was so much feeling she nearly came off the bed.
“Derek,” she hissed.
“Shh,” he hushed. “Breathe, let your mind turn off. I’m just having some dessert, all you need to do is lie here and enjoy it.” He chuckled and she couldn’t help but smile imagining what he must look like, bare chest, rippling muscles, dress pants, with a nearly naked writhing, sticky woman underneath him.
He deftly unsnapped the front clasp on her bra, then the can made another whooshing sound and she felt the cold whipped cream surround her nipples. His tongue followed, licking slowly in circles around her areolas, then closer, almost to her nipples but not quite. Her breasts ached, almost painfully, as the rough flat of his tongue rubbed along her skin. When she thought she’d die from the want, his lips closed over one nipple and he sucked. Painful pleasure radiated from the point he was focused on straight to her core, and her inner muscles clenched.
“Oh, oh God,” she moaned, canting her hips, craving pressure and relief. One of his hands swept along the curve of her waist while the other plumped her breast as he continued to suck and swirl her nipple in his mouth. She needed to touch him, and one of her hands found a fistful of his silky hair while the other clawed at his back, trying to pull him closer.
But he didn’t comply, letting her pull and scratch at him as he leisurely moved on to the other breast, lavishing the same attention on it. When he finally released her second nipple, she heard him shift positions, as he sat back on his heels, his knees straddling her hips. Th
e new position provided weight and pressure exactly where she craved it and she gasped in relief and agitation, pressing her pelvis against him as she writhed.
“Mmm,” he groaned. “We’re not there yet, gorgeous.” She felt his stubbled face brush against her cheek as he planted tiny kisses along her jaw while his hands palmed her waist, holding her steady. Then his lips found hers and he thrust his tongue in her mouth as his hips rocked, pressing down on her clit, rubbing the fabric of her panties against the swollen, tender skin. She wanted to spread her legs, take him inside of her, then his chest brushed against hers, his hairs scraping her overly sensitive nipples, and she felt a shock of electricity run through her.
As if she were a glass of water and someone had just poured over the rim, it suddenly became too much. She knew she was close, an orgasm to end all orgasms hovering just beyond the next touch, kiss, thrust. And she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let herself go. Her heart raced, and she wasn’t able to catch her breath. Dammit. No. Not like this.
In a moment Derek’s lips were gone, his weight disappearing, and his voice rumbling in her ear. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll stop. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m right here, but no pressure. Just breathe.”
She reached up and ripped the blindfold off, blinking for a moment in the low light of the dimmed nightstand lamps. Derek hovered over her on his hands and knees, so close, but not touching, his face full of nothing but concern and empathy.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, turning her head to the side in humiliation. She wasn’t a crier, wasn’t much for emotional outbursts of any sort, but she was frustrated, embarrassed, and longing for something that she was starting to fear she’d never have.
He cupped her cheek as he shifted and sat next to her on the bed. Forcing her gaze to his as he stroked her skin with his thumb. “Don’t be sorry. You did fantastic. You’re beautiful, and I love being with you. It’s not going to happen overnight. You have a lot of years to overcome. But I know we can do it. I know you can learn to trust me. If you want to?”
She leaned in to his touch and kissed his palm as he slid down and lay next to her. “Yes. I want that more than anything.”
“Then we’ll make it happen. You don’t need to worry.”
She took a deep breath and looked into his beautiful eyes. How had she ever gotten so lucky to find a man like him? She knew she didn’t deserve him, and she could only hope that he never realized that.
“I’m just so…” Her voice trailed off, not knowing what she wanted to say.
“Horny?” he asked, grinning.
“God yes, that too.” She wiggled as if to verify that everything below her waist was still on fire.
He ran one finger along her torso, pausing briefly to caress the soft skin around her belly button.
“Are you able to do it yourself?” he asked quietly.
She swallowed. “You mean…?”
“Do you get yourself off?”
She nodded, feeling her face flush. That she could be embarrassed by talk of sex after the last eight years of her life was nothing short of amazing.
“Then do it,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “Right now.”
She rolled to her side and looked at him silently. They breathed in unison and she felt a sense of being in sync with another human being that she’d never experienced. Their breaths, their heartbeats, the energy of their want, all of it circled around them, swirling in and out of the cocoon that they existed in for that moment.
She leaned forward the two inches between them and placed one perfect, butterfly-light kiss on his lips. “You too,” she whispered. He nodded before taking her hand and gently moving it to the waistband of her underwear. She slid her fingers under the elastic and further until she felt the slick skin of her sex. She looked in time to see him unzip his pants and shove his boxers down enough to bare his cock. It was dark and smooth, swollen and shiny with precum. It made her throb and she released a small moan as she stroked her clit, circling it with one finger.
“Watch,” he rasped. “Look at what you do to me.”
She kept her eyes glued to him as he fisted himself, spreading the moisture from the tip around the head with his thumb. He began to move his hand up and down in firm steady strokes, his breath increasing in speed as his hand did.
London pressed on her clit, then circled and pressed it, pausing to dip inside her channel every so often, touching her g-spot briefly before moving back to her clit. The intense ache that was already burning in her gut worsened, and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for that wave of ecstasy to pour over her.
“Eyes on us,” Derek commanded roughly and her eyes popped open as she looked down again, finding him thrusting into his hand rapidly, his body straining, muscles flexed, face tense.
She pressed her hand against her pelvis, pushing hard on her clit. “Oh, oh, God,” she cried out.
“Come for me, gorgeous,” he growled, and she did. Her eyes snapped shut and the waves of pleasure rolled through her. Her muscles spasmed and released over and over as she gasped for breath. At some point she realized that she heard both Derek’s voice and her own as she cried out and he roared his release, her name on his lips like a curse and a benediction all at once.
As the orgasm slowly subsided she moved her hand aside, letting her panties shift back into place. She felt sticky warmth on her hip and looked down to see Derek give himself one final stroke before he released his cock, groaning in satisfaction. His entire body melted into the bed as he flopped onto his back in exhaustion.
“I’ll get you something to clean up. Just give me a moment. I’m not sure I can move right now.”
She giggled, the relief making her giddy. Derek rolled back toward her and kissed her on the lips. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said quietly. “How do you feel?”
She smiled shyly at him, butterflies dancing in her chest at his words and the feel of his lips on hers. “Really good,” she admitted. She paused, amazed that it was true. She felt like a weight had been lifted from her soul. There was a lightness that she’d not even realized she was missing.
He hoisted himself off of the bed and went to the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth. Tenderly he wiped her hip clean, then his cock, before tossing the cloth back into the bathroom. Then he peeled his pants off, leaving his boxers on and picked her up, as she laughed, struggling in his hold. “Be still, woman,” he bellowed. He flipped back the covers and deposited her on the cool, smooth sheets before climbing in next to her.
He turned her back to him, banding an arm around her waist and grasping one of her breasts possessively. He nuzzled the back of her neck, breathing in deeply with his nose in her hair. “Mmm. Now go to sleep,” he mumbled. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
London smiled in the darkness, completely surrounded by his big body, bossed by his big mouth, and the happiest she’d been in years. Just for that one brief moment, she let herself bask in the warmth, the glow, the sensation of being cared for. She ignored the fears that lurked in the dark corners of her mind, turning a deaf ear to the warnings that whispered through her head. For that one night, London Sharpe let herself be happy, and it was better than any dream she had after she drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man she was rapidly falling in love with.
Chapter 10
It was almost seven when Derek woke the next morning. He was usually up before six, but even he had to admit it had been a stress-filled few days. He spent the first few minutes watching London sleep, her face and hair lit up by the weak sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains.
God, he hadn’t known what to expect with his little experiment the night before, and he had to admit that it had gone better than his wildest imaginings. He was no therapist, but he had a gut instinct that told him if he could ease her into the physical feelings the rest would follow. And he had to admit that he wanted both kinds. He wanted to fuck her senseless, and he wanted her to care about hi
m. He’d have never expected it, but this damaged, fragile, beautiful woman had turned his heart and mind inside out, and now all that mattered was how to get her to want him as much as he wanted her.
He quietly put on the running clothes he’d brought with him the night before and tiptoed downstairs. Outside he met up with the security detail who had arrived to accompany him throughout his day. London’s house was still blissfully free of press, but the security guys told him that his Georgetown brownstone had been overrun with media, all waiting for him to show back up.
“We’re keeping them at the requisite fifty feet from the property line, but they’re not going anywhere for now, Mr. Ambrose,” the guard who’d replaced Owen said.
“That’s fine,” Derek answered. “I’d rather they be there than here bothering Ms. Sharpe. I’ll make an appearance at home later today to keep them interested. I want to keep them away from here as long as we can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You ready for a run?” Derek asked.
“Looking forward to it, sir. Let me go tell Charlie to come up to the house.” After Charlie was in position at London’s front door Derek and the other guard went for a short run to Hamilton Park. Derek put in his headset and dialed Kamal before putting the phone into his armband.
“Any more news on Melville?” Kamal answered without preamble.
“He’s sitting up and eating according to the text Angela sent this morning. I’ll go see him as soon as I finish this run and grab some breakfast.”
“Good. You’ll put out another press release once you’ve seen him?”
Derek’s feet pounded on the concrete as he turned the corner onto Harlow Street. “Yes, I want everyone to know that he’s going to be fine, and whoever did this to know they didn’t succeed.”
“And I’ve got some news on that,” Kamal said, his voice deadly serious.
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