by Vanessa Vale
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lexy
Two weeks later, I still hadn't met him. Eating wasn't overly important. The memories of the one night of passion lingered, burned in my brain. My pussy clenched when I thought about Ian's touch, his large cock satisfying my sexual hunger. I'd touched myself, bringing myself to climax thinking of him. I'd even used my vibrator in more unusual ways. I'd liked everything we'd done together and I wanted to stay prepared.
Having a job that filled all of my time helped. I had briefs to write, clients to meet, court appearances to prepare for. I'd never noticed how flat my life was until after my night in Scotland. I couldn't say it was a dream, nor could I say it was a trip. I didn't know what it was, how to classify it. I couldn't tell anyone and only Tracy saw the ring and said she was waiting for Ian to appear. It was possible the only way for her to truly believe was to go to the jewelry store on her birthday.
The anguish of what happened didn't fade though, and I searched the Internet for details on them to find some closure. My high school teachers would have been proud of what I learned about Scottish history. The clan MacInnes had records and Ian had been relatively easy to discover, however the content was minimal. He'd been laird for a short time and had died at Culloden in 1746. He'd gone to fight the English after all and lost.
One of my co-workers had found me crying at my desk. I lied and said a relative had passed away and they'd let me take the afternoon off. Sitting in my apartment and moping was not going to make Ian survive that horrific battle. It had happened hundreds of years ago. Instead, I'd written out a list of errands and remained busy. I'd just dropped a bag of clothes at the dry cleaners and stepped onto the sidewalk, stopping to check my bag for my car keys. Turning, I rammed headlong into someone's side, knocking me to the ground.
"I'm sorry. Are you all right?" he asked, leaning down toward me, concerned.
After clearing my wits, I finally looked up and my breath stalled in my lungs. My heart lurched into my throat. I couldn't do anything but take in the man looming over me. Ian.
His hair was a little longer than I remembered, but his eyes, those whiskey colored eyes, were the same.
His dark eyebrows went up. "How do you know my name?" I hadn't realized I'd said his name out loud.
He held out a hand to help me up. One I recognized all too well. One that had done things to me, touched me in ways I'd never known existed. Those fingers had fucked my pussy, that thumb had stretched my ass wide. Heat flared. I felt it in my cheeks and other, more private places.
My heart leapt into my throat. A wave of exhilaration swept over me, my heart pumped with the surge of adrenaline. Ian!
I gladly took his proffered hand, and he pulled me easily to my feet. The touch, the contact of palm on palm was electrifying. Not just for me but for him, too. I could see the surprising flicker in his eyes. A recognition. Awareness. He didn't understand it, but he sensed it all the same.
The white shirt and plaid were replaced with jeans and a black tee shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and hard muscles. He was just as tall and virile and powerful and… perfect as I remembered.
The ruby ring, pressed between our palms, singed my skin as if I'd grabbed hold of a burning pan. His too, since he released his grip, looking down at his palm.
His surprised gaze slowly lifted again to mine. We stood, staring at each other, for long moments. I held my breath, waiting nervously. Had the old woman been right? Would he just make sure I didn't hurt myself and be on his way?
He narrowed his eyes, studied me. "I… I know you… from somewhere."
I nodded, hope flaring. I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face.
How did this work? Would he remember our time together? I shook the thought away just as quickly as it had formed. How could he? This was a different Ian. The Ian I'd spent the night with in Scotland was an Ian from a different time. A different life. But, the old Ian and this one were kindred spirits, alike. Identical in everything but the centuries between them. The ring, my presence and hopefully a flash from a past life experience combined together might trigger a flicker of recognition. On what level Ian knew me was something else entirely.
"Somewhere," I said absently. I couldn't say, Yeah, we met in a past life, and we had this one amazing night. And you were a Highland laird. He'd never believe me and would consider me a nutcase, for just the same reason I didn't tell my mother. I had him in front of me and it would be best if I didn't scare him off right away. We were eternal mates. We had the rest of our lives to… do whatever we wanted. The thought of forever with him was amazing. Happiness filled my very soul.
"Really? Where?" He stopped to think for a moment, cocked his head to the side and looked me over, then ran a hand over the back of his neck. "It wasn't Bob's wedding was it, because I don't usually drink like that."
I laughed at how uncomfortable he looked. This Ian didn't have an accent. "No, not Bob's wedding." Our wedding. "It was a long time ago."
"Oh," Ian said, his look disappointed because he couldn't place me.
I touched his arm, felt the heat, the connection. "Don't worry, we've met again now." I smiled. I couldn't help myself. It was difficult to remain calm when all I wanted to do was jump him and lick him and then, once alone, suck his cock. Okay, the last was an add-on, but I hadn't had a chance to do it that one night.
He smiled back. The perplexed look was still there, combined with something else. "You're right. You know my name, but I don't know yours."
"Alexandra, but my friends call me Lexy." I held out my hand to shake as way of introduction. Ian took it, again the ring pressed between our palms.
"Alexandra," Ian replied, a hint of awareness dawning in his voice. His eyes widened.
I recognized the sound, the timbre, the deep quality of my name as it rolled off his tongue. It sent currents of pleasure to my pussy as I remembered what the old Ian had done to me when he'd last called me that. His head had been between my legs, his breath fanning over my—
His hand squeezed mine. "God, I've seen you naked," he said, clearly stunned. He released my hand and stepped back. He even lifted his hands up. Surprised by his words, he must have wanted to redeem himself because he added, "No offense, and I think I might be losing my mind. Shit. It's not a line. Don't slap me. But I have. Seen you naked, that is."
He ran a hand over the back of his neck again as his gaze roved over my body. He looked left and right, then stepped closer to me, then leaned down. "I remember your breasts were full, the tips a rosy pink and… God, I remember more… your nipples turned rock hard inside my mouth."
I felt my cheeks flush. So did the rest of my body. How could I not when the man was right? "I remember too."
He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "Then I'm not losing my mind?" he wondered. "How the hell did I forget a night with you?" His eyes widened in alarm. "It was just one night, wasn't it? Oh shit. The blood. You… you died." He glanced down my body to see if the knife I knew he was picturing was still in me.
"Yes," I replied, blinking back tears.
"What the hell? That was… awful. Shit, I can feel how bad that had been." He exhaled a deep breath in obvious relief. "I don't consider myself a big drinker, but crap, how did I forget you? All of that?" He froze, then leaned in, lowering his voice.
I didn't want to dwell on the painful part. "Do you… remember the rest?"
He paused. "Wait. Was I too drunk to perform? Is that why I've never seen you since, because I swear, if I was sober, I never would have let you go."
He still didn't believe. I may have died in the past, but the entire concept was new to him. He had recollections of it, I'd lived it. What had happened to us, our horrible ending, wasn't part of our story. His words gave me the reassurance I needed. He might not remember… yet, but he was attracted to me in his own right. That meant he wasn't just going to walk away. Although, I hadn't asked him the crazy question. "Do you believe in past lives?"
"Past lives?" Ian looked me over, gave me a little sniff. "Are you drunk now?"
"No," I replied, laughing. "And, yes. Past lives. Eternal mates." I mentally crossed my fingers. "The idea that we all have one mate forever. Past lives. Future ones. For all eternity."
Ian stared at me, his eyes piercing, as he tried to glimpse something more. Remember something else. He stepped closer once again, this time where I felt his body heat, saw the flecks of gold in his eyes. "No. But how do you explain what I'm remembering?"
"The ring." I held up my hand. "Touch it again. I bet you'll remember more."
"The ring?" He looked skeptical, but reached out and tentatively touched the ruby and gold anyway. He stared at our joined hands briefly, lifting his gaze to mine. I saw awareness flare to life.
"Scotland," he whispered, in awe. "A previous life, right? It had to be, because I swear I have never worn a kilt in this life."
I nodded and laughed, my hopes lifting with every heartbeat, every breath.
"This is crazy!" he said, continuing to touch the ring. "This is crazy, right?"
I curled my fingers so that mine were linked with his. "Yes, this is crazy. It's insane."
"The images that just popped into my head are so vivid, so real. I remember you dying, holding you in my lap as you took your last breath. How could you be dead then and alive now?"
"That wasn't us. That was another Lexy and Ian. They had a sad ending, but we… we get one of our own."
"I remember more than the sorrow." Besides surprise and awe and confusion and awareness in his gaze, I saw heat.
"Me, too," I admitted.
He leaned in close, so close that his lips barely brushed over mine. He was watching me, checking to see if it was okay to kiss me. I didn't respond, just leaned so our mouths touched. He didn't wait, but angled his head and took the kiss deeper. His tongue delved into my mouth, tangled with mine. His hands cupped my jaw, holding me just where he wanted me.
"Ian," I murmured as I took a breath, then sank back into the kiss. It was all so familiar, but completely new. He tasted of mint, as if he'd just brushed his teeth. His mouth was tentative at first, then grew bolder. He was gentle, yet demanding. This wasn't a borrowed Ian, a sexual snippet—as the old woman had said—of someone else's love, but my own. This was my first kiss. My last first kiss.
"Was it as good as I remember?" he asked when he lifted his head, watching me.
"God, yes," I whispered. "Better. So much better."
Ian squeezed his palm against the ruby ring, then sucked in a deep breath.
"Holy shit." His eyes widened, then grazed over my body. It wasn't a simple 'check out the girl' kind of look, but a 'I know what you look like naked and I know what I did to you' look. Thank God I hadn't left the house in sweats and no make-up. Bending down, his breath fanned my ear. "Did you like the ass fuck as much as I did?"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lexy
Ian didn't wait for me to answer. He just pulled me down the street, keeping a firm grasp on my hand with the ruby ring. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, "You're not going to say a stranger kidnapped you off the street, are you? This is insane, so I have to check."
He didn't stop walking, so his belief was obvious. But he had lingering doubts because it was insane. I'd just been dropping off my dry cleaning and now Ian was here. Forever.
"No, because we know each other," I replied.
That slowed his steps. "We do. Hell, I know you. I know what you taste like, what you look like when you come. I know you more than just sex. I know you."
"Exactly." He started walking again with purpose now that I agreed. It amazed me how he quickly remembered our time together, down to the minute detail. To the ass fuck. The nerves at the entrance of my back door tingled. I needed so desperately what only he could give me. I'd tried, oh, I'd tried to satisfy myself alone in my bed, but while it had taken the edge off, it hadn't worked. I needed him.
He growled and picked up the pace, practically tugging me down the street. I let him take me wherever he wanted, which was less than a block. "I live here."
He tilted his chin up, directing my gaze to a brownstone. I was only about two miles from my own apartment and I was stunned that we lived so close together. He'd been nearby all this time and I'd never met him before. As he unlocked the door, he said, "If we're eternal mates as you say, as the ring shows me, then you're mine." His gaze roved over my body, took in every inch of me. Possessively. He looked at me as if he could see through my clothes. "All of you."
That completely and totally worked for me. I didn't even get a nod of agreement in before he kicked the door closed behind us and his head lowered to mine, in a kiss as good—no better—than I remembered. His tongue traced over my lips and when I opened my mouth for him, he dipped inside. I tasted him, yes… yes! This was Ian. While his scent was mingled with that of soap, I found the familiar tang of pure, unadulterated male. Even a few hundred years later, he smelled the same.
I pulled back, momentarily worried. "I'm not a slut. I don't go home with guys on the street like this. It's you." My heart was racing and I tried to catch my breath, for he had stolen it with that first kiss. "I… how are you okay with all of this? Don't you find it strange? Ten minutes ago you didn't even know I existed. Now you say I'm yours."
Even though his eyes remained locked on mine, his large hands roamed over my body. I had a hard time focusing, remembering I'd even asked him a question, as his heated palms skimmed over my hips, my waist, then higher still to brush and mold my full breasts. My eyes slipped closed.
"The ring has shown me all I need to know to want you. Again. In my bed. In my life." He dipped his head for a quick kiss. "In my heart."
"God, yes." I was so thrilled my heart felt ready to burst. In my heart. It was more than I could hope for. He wanted me. Body and soul. Blood pumped through my veins quickly, hotly as if my heart would burst. It was. With love for Ian.
"That's the last thing you said to me," I told him.
He shook his head. "That wasn't us, not really. We can be sad for what happened to them, but I think we owe it to them to do it right this time, to spend the rest of our lives together. I mean the next fifty years or so."
I quirked an eyebrow. "You don't have any stalker ex-girlfriends, do you? Women scorned?"
He laughed and shook his head. "Let's let them go. Leave them in the past, all right?"
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I replied, "Yes. All right."
Stroking a finger over my cheek, he said, "If I remember correctly, while you weren't a slut, you were a naughty girl." He grinned at me, his lips wet from the kisses, his lids lowered with eager desire.
I bit my lip, remembering all the things he'd done to me because I'd been so naughty. "I was," I agreed, letting the past slip from me. Reveling in having Ian—my Ian—in front of me.
"Just for me," he added. There was a touch of dominance, a hint of that alpha male in there that had my panties soaked.
"Oh yes, just for you."
Curling my palm around the back of his neck, I pulled his head down. Kissing him. Like I'd never kissed before. I poured my soul… and heart into it with everything I had. I gave over to him completely. Nothing held back. I could bare my soul, give up my heart to Ian and he'd protect it. Keep it safe. Nurture it. Love it.
"Bedroom." His tongue dipped in again. "Now." He angled his head. "Upstairs."
Somehow we made it up the steps as our fingers groped and tangled trying to undo buttons, zippers, belt buckles. By the time we'd made it to Ian's bedroom, I had my shirt off, my jeans unzipped and one shoe off. Ian yanked his tee shirt up and over his head.
I was able to run my hands over his all-too-familiar chest. The one I longed for over the weeks of separation. My head lowered to it, my tongue ran over the warm skin, the springy hairs. Ian's rugged and familiar scent once again overwhelmed me, visions of our encounter in Scotland appeared before my closed eyelids. His hard body glistening with s
weat from exertion, flickering gold in the candlelight. A lock of hair falling over his brow. Jaw clenched, holding his desire in, then unleashing it on me in the most primal way possible.
Stomach muscles tightened beneath my mouth. Ian's lungs filled with air, chest expanded. I swirled my tongue over one of his nipples and heard him groan, felt it. I smiled at the power I had over him.
I couldn't keep my hands off of his body. My palms touched his smooth skin, ran up his sides and across his broad back all the while I kissed and licked his body. Dropping to my knees, I dipped my tongue in his navel, swirled once before moving lower, following the trail of hair that led me to the front of his pants. My fingers worked at the button and zipper of his jeans, pushing them down over his lean hips along with his boxers. His cock sprang free. It stood ready and erect, only inches from my mouth. Thick and hard, the skin dark and smooth, his cock was all I could hope for. Remembered. And then some. My pussy clenched in anticipation. So did my ass. Where would he make love to me first?
I licked my lips when a pearly drop of fluid seeped from the tip. There hadn't been time in Scotland to suck Ian's cock, to pull the seed from his balls and taste it. I longed for the flavor of him on my tongue. The wait was over.
I licked the pre-cum from him, the spicy taste of him awakening my taste buds. I couldn't help the satisfied moan that came from my throat. I licked at the flared head as if it were an ice cream cone.
"Lexy," he growled.
Just my name spoken in such a guttural way was all I needed to continue. Opening my mouth wide, I took all of his cock. Deep. The head was wide and touched the back of my throat, the silky length of him spreading my lips.
"Jesus Christ, woman. Don't you have a gag reflex?"
I'd never considered it before, but it was easy to take him deep. It was hard to breathe, but I concentrated on swallowing, which pulled the head of his cock to the back of my throat. I kept him there for a second or two, then pulled back just enough to take another breath. Cupping his hefty balls, I squeezed them gently.