5

  Lizzy's eyes fluttered open and her gaze flew to the nightstand beside her. Midnight. Oh thank God. The night wasn't over yet. The strong arm wrapped around her tightened slightly as she tensed.

  "Are you all right?" Ian asked, his voice a soft rumble.

  "I'm fine." She let herself relax against him for a few more delicious seconds, and then she pulled away and sat up on the bed.

  "Did you ever…" she paused, not sure how to ask what she wanted to without sounding needy.

  "Think about you as more than my best bud's little sister?" he finished for her.

  "Yes, that." She could feel heat creep up her cheeks, but she ignored it and shifted to face him where he still lay on the bed with a sheet pulled up to his waist.

  "Of course I did. At totally inappropriate times too."

  She grinned at him and tugged on her hair, suppressing a wince at the stiff feel of all the product the stylist had used to make it look shiny and glamorous. "Oh yeah? When?"

  "I remember the exact moment I realized you weren't a kid anymore—your senior prom."

  Heat flushed her face and she glanced away. "Oh my God. That's when you realized I wasn't a kid?"

  "What color was that dress?" He laughed.

  "It was teal. And it was very much in style then," she said, mock outrage coating her tone.

  "Fluffy sleeves included?"

  "Yes," she said, primly. "Fluffy sleeves and all." She pulled the sheet tighter around her chest. "I can't believe you noticed me then."

  "You'd just gotten your braces off, and I'd just started my company—right out of college. Talk about feeling like a perv."

  She risked a glance at his face, and then returned his rueful grin. "I was eighteen."

  "Just barely. I remember going to see Jacob. You were mad about something—I can't remember exactly what now. But you stomped down the stairs, face pinched with that adorable expression you get when you're angry. You were carrying your shoes—they were teal too, if I remember right." His eyes grew distant and she held her breath, afraid to interrupt and break the magic of the moment. "You were so beautiful. I don't think I'd seen you wear makeup before that night, or something tight enough to show you were a girl. Your eyes were so bright, your face flushed—with anger then." His gaze fell on her. "Are you angry now, Lizzy?"

  She touched her hot cheek with her fingertips. "No," she whispered.

  He cleared his throat. "What were you so angry about?"

  "My date was late, and I didn't like how my mom did my hair." And she'd been embarrassed for Ian to see her like that. He'd looked at her oddly that night, and she'd immediately decided that it was because her hair was wrong, her dress was ugly, her makeup was too heavy. Even the adoring eyes of her slightly-late date didn't counteract her disappointment at Ian's reaction. "I didn't have a clue you even noticed me that night."

  "Oh I had to hide it. Your brother's not a total idiot. If he'd noticed me looking at his teenage sister with drool dribbling from my chin—"

  The snicker escaped her before she could turn it into some sort of a sexy laugh, but Ian didn't seem to mind, and he joined her, his deep chuckle filling the room.

  God, she loved that laugh.

  A weight settled on her chest and she pushed away the dangerous thoughts teasing the edges of her mind. "Well I think the jig was up on my feelings when I was sixteen years old, and following you guys around my house incessantly when you showed up for college breaks."

  "You think so?" he asked, eyes way too wide and innocent.

  "Oh my God, you knew, didn't you?"

  He grinned. "Well I knew you had a crush on me when you were sixteen. But later…" He frowned. "Well, later you didn't seem as interested. Once you grew up."

  She'd gotten better at hiding her crush, that was all. But she wasn't going to admit it. "Jacob did his best to put a kibosh on me following you around after a while."

  "I think he was worried about his little sister."

  She snorted. "As if there were any risk of you pursuing me then."

  Ian grimaced and shrugged. "Not then, no. You were too young. I wouldn't have taken advantage." His gaze captured hers and she couldn't look away. "But later, I don't know. If you'd looked at me with those doe eyes, so full of desire, after you'd finished high school? I might have pursued you." He took a deep breath. "I don't think I could have helped myself. And you were still too young." He looked away. "Something your brother was well aware of."

  The idea that she could have spent the last few years with Ian if she'd shown an interest rattled around her brain. But he hadn't said that, had he? He might be talking about something very different, something akin to the single night they currently shared. Suddenly, she had to move. Had to get away from him, if only for a few minutes.

  "I'm going to take a quick shower." She needed space to think, to get some sort of grasp on this situation, but she half hoped that he'd offer to join her—an offer she knew she'd be unable to refuse. But he didn't offer. Instead he watched her from under hooded eyes as she walked to the bathroom.

  Barely noticing the gorgeous fixtures around her, she twisted the knob and hot water flowed from the showerhead. The large shower with sprayers at both ends was obviously made for two. Great.

  God, what had she done? Things would be awkward now—so awkward. She still had to see Ian at family gatherings, after all. Her hands clenched at her sides. It was more than that. She'd just made love with the man of her dreams—the man she'd loved since she was sixteen years old. And it had been even more intense and wonderful and amazing than she'd imagined.

  The water was hot against her already too-hot skin, and she turned the knob to cool it. How was she going to get over this man, now that she knew her fantasies were even better out of her head?

  A small knock sounded against the bathroom wall. "Mind if I join you?" Ian's voice sounded a bit unsure, not a tone she could recall ever hearing from him. Even when they were kids, he'd always been so certain of himself.

  "Sure," she said, the cheerfulness of her tone sounding forced, even to her.

  Ian stepped into the shower and her breath caught. The man was too darn gorgeous for his own good.

  He opened his mouth and looked like he wanted to ask her if she was okay again, but then snapped it shut. Instead, he picked up the soap and raised an eyebrow at her, crooked grin rising on his lips. "Want me to scrub your back?"

  She giggled and turned, letting him give her a back washing that was more a massage than anything. His hands were just a little rough against her skin as he ran them over her, but they glided easily with the soap. When his hands slid to her front, running slowly over her breasts to tease her hardening nipples, she turned around.

  "My turn," she said, voice just a little too breathless.

  He smiled and opened his arms wide. "I'm all yours."

  She leaned against him, teasing him with her body and reveling in her own newfound confidence. Lathering the soap thickly on her hands, she washed him all over, coming so close to his hardness he hissed. She smiled and left the very obviously interested area until last. When she finally slid her hands over his cock, smoothly with the help of the soap, he groaned.

  "You're killing me here, sweetheart."

  "Am I?" she said, innocently. Then she gripped him hard, and ran her hand up and down his length. Nice and slow.

  Then, keeping her gaze locked with his, she lowered herself to the ground.

  "You don't have to—"

  She stifled his argument by flicking her tongue against the head of his cock. The tile was hard under her knees, but not too uncomfortable, and the moan he let out as she took him between her lips made the discomfort worthwhile. She ran her tongue along his length, then sucked gingerly on the tip. He smelled of the hotel soap, but tasted just a little salty.

  "You're killing me, Lizzy," he said, but his hand moved to stroke her hair as she took as much of him as she could into her mouth. His length filling her, she stroked back and forth with her hand and mouth, until he gripped her hair so tightly it pulled. He groaned when she released him.

  A head rush hit her as he helped her up from the floor. He growled and kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. He ran a hand between them, and slid a finger into her. She gasped against his lips.

  "Like that, do you?" She could feel his grin against her mouth. Then suddenly, she was turned around, his erection pressing into her back.

  "Put your hands on the wall," he said. He released her, and she felt movement behind her, and then heard the snick of a condom wrapper. Had he brought a condom with him and left it just outside of the shower? That seemed rather presumptuous, but at that moment, she didn't mind.

  Dizziness from coming to her feet so quickly made her cling to the wall. The steam and heat from the shower, the big man behind her, filling the shower with his presence…it was almost too much, too erotic.

  She placed her hands against the wall and she could feel him behind her, positioning her, pushing her legs slightly farther apart with his thighs. Then, gripping her hips tightly, he thrust into her aching wetness.

  She cried out at the sensation, and he withdrew most of the way before thrusting into her again. One of his hands slid up her wet skin to massage her breast. He pinched her nipple, just hard enough for it to send a twinge down to her swollen sex.

  The sensation was too much, and she felt herself shudder against him and she gasped his name. He cried out and returned his hands to grip her hips. With his fingers digging into her skin, she rode the orgasm as he continued to ride her. Finally, she heard his guttural cry, and he thrust into her hard, his body spasming. Weak knees barely held her as she collapsed against his chest.

  6

  He'd never felt so tender toward another human being as he did when he helped Lizzy out of the shower and into one of the terry cloth robes that hung in the bathroom. When she collapsed into a small ball on the bed, a twinge of guilt ran through him, despite the satisfied smile that enveloped her face.

  "I wonder what Jacob would say if he could see us now," she said, voice slurred with satisfaction.

  Ian snorted. "He'd be too busy kicking my ass to say much."

  She giggled, and his heart twisted. "Maybe. Although you tended to win the fights you guys had growing up."

  He'd only won around half, but he wasn't going to tell that to the woman of his dreams. "Sure did." He flexed at her and her grin widened.

  "It's pretty tough to take a man in a robe seriously."

  "Oh? I can take it off if you prefer." He waggled his eyebrows at her, earning him another musical laugh.

  "Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked. The bottle that she'd had open when he arrived still waited on the small table.

  "Sure."

  He poured the wine, watching the dark red liquid fill the glass, and tried to bring his thoughts into some kind of focus. That he was here with her, with his Lizzy, seemed impossible. And what if she only wanted one night? She was a librarian. What if she loved the quiet life? She might have no interest in joining him in the spotlight. Oh, he wasn't a movie star, and now that he wasn't forced to escort Elise to all of her pet charity balls and socialite gatherings, he didn't go to fancy events that often. But what if even that was too much for her?

  What if she just wasn't interested in him for the long term?

  He grimaced at the thought. If she wasn't interested in him for more than a fun-filled night, well then, he'd just have to change her mind.

  When Ian handed her the wine glass, his playfulness was gone. A serious expression coated his face, and she wondered if he'd finally realized that she might want more than just the night. Maybe he wasn't ready for a relationship and wasn't sure how to tell her. Darn it. She'd known this would be awkward.

  No. She wouldn't let this be weird. There had been enough of that word today. She would pretend that one night was just what she had planned, and then compel her expression to agree with her words. This wasn't something she could force on him. He was the man of her dreams, but those dreams would shatter if he stuck with her past their one night together out of guilt.

  "So, I guess we should get some sleep," she said, voice cheerful. She took a sip of the wine, but it seemed to have lost its flavor. "I'm flying out tomorrow, and I don't want to be totally dead on the flight. And I'm sure that you have things to do. You're a very busy guy, or so I hear," she teased.

  He hesitated, then said, "Work keeps me pretty busy, I guess."

  She nodded. Thank God. She could do this. "I'll bet." She turned and set her wine glass down, then reached out to click off the light, but his hand caught hers.

  "Lizzy, we need to talk."

  "There's nothing to talk about," she said, firmly. Dammit. She wasn't as good an actress as she'd hoped. He was probably picking up on the fact that she was upset, and now the guilt was setting in. She pulled her hand from his, and he let her go. She switched the lamp off, and then set her head on the pillow, closing her eyes.

  The last thing she felt before sleep caught her was the covers being pulled up more securely around her neck. He was, of all things, tucking her in.

  Ian watched as her eyes closed. Only seconds after he pulled the covers around her, her breathing evened, and she fell fast asleep. He touched her damp chestnut hair softly, not wanting to wake her. She'd always been like that. Once, he'd teased her that she could fall asleep as quickly as any house cat.

  Walking back out to the small table, he left her to slumber. The wine tasted bitter in his throat, but a glance at the bottle assured him that the fault was his, not the expensive merlot's. Could she really just want a one night stand?

  He cursed under his breath and set his wine glass on the table. If she did, he'd just have to convince her otherwise. She was his Lizzy, whether she knew it or not. She always had been. He just hadn’t been able to show her or prove it to her until now.

  He couldn't let her go.

  Lizzy awoke to sunlight streaming in from a small opening between the curtains. A hard body lined her back, and a muscular arm held her close. She could feel Ian's stubbled chin against the back of her neck.

  Keeping things light, keeping her feelings firmly hidden behind a cheerful facade, had seemed so much easier in the darkness of night. The light streaming in, while narrow, was too bright. Too revealing.

  She had to get out of here.

  Lizzy wiggled out of Ian's arms and grabbed her dress off the floor. Would he ever forgive her for sneaking out? Of course, he'd probably be happy she'd done it. No awkward conversation. No feeling like he had to act like he wanted more than the single night to spare her feelings. Besides, she wasn't sure she could resist even the most obviously guilt-driven request from him to stay.

  After last night, one crook of his finger and she'd be a goner.

  She pulled her dress on and worked the zipper up as high as she could get it. Darn it. You had to be a contortionist to get the thing all the way up. It was high enough. She had a jacket in her overnight bag. She just had to get to the elevator and she could pull it on and no one would be any wiser.

  "Going somewhere?" Ian's deep voice cut the air behind her.

  She froze like a rabbit trying to convince a wolf she was merely an oddly shaped rock.

  "I can still see you even if you don't move," Ian said, voice laced with amusement. She could hear the swish of clothing behind her. He was dressing—thank goodness. One thing she could never say no to was a naked Ian.

  "You're awake," she said with false cheerfulness. Keeping her back to him, she grasped her bag tightly, and tried to come up with something clever to say. "I just thought that I—"

  "Would slip out like a big wimp before I could talk to you?"

  She turned around, face hot. He'd already pulled on his slacks, and his shirt dangled from his fist. "You don't know what you're talking about. I just…I didn't want it to be awkward. I didn't want you to make this into a big deal."

  He was standing in front her before she could turn away. "Last night was a big deal to me." He took a deep breath. "I'm not going to pressure you, but I will take the risk and be honest with you."

  She opened her mouth to stop him from speaking. His gaze was too intense, his expression too fierce. But he placed his index finger on her lips.

  "I love you, Lizzy."

  "You don't have to say that," she protested desperately.

  "I'm not saying it because I have to. I love you so much—so damn much. I think I've loved you since your prom night—inappropriate as that sounds."

  She opened her mouth again but he stopped her with a kiss—a soft, tender touch of his lips. Then he stepped back, holding her gaze with his own. She tried to force words from her throat, but they wouldn't come.

  "I'm going back to the penthouse. Going to give you some space to think. I'll be waiting for you."

  And with those words, he was gone.

  Ian stomped in his penthouse suite. Back and forth he traced his steps. Had he made a mistake? Giving her time to decide what she wanted—space to let her really think—had seemed like a good idea. The right thing to do. But now, as he indented the carpet of the suite, he wondered if he should have stayed, talked to her.

  A quiet knock sounded on the hotel room door, and he stopped pacing, afraid that the slightest movement might chase away his visitor. He stiffened his spine and headed for the door, but it clicked open before he could reach it.

  His breath caught at the sight of her. She'd showered and changed her clothes. Jeans and a casual blouse adorned her slender form. Loose hair hung around her shoulders. The styled curls she'd worn the night before had been replaced with a casual look that fit her better. Her face was clean of all but a touch of subtle makeup. She looked like she always did. Casual. Comfortable. Beautiful.

  "Hi." She shoved her chin up and pushed her shoulders back, meeting his gaze with a look so full of steel he could envision her across from him at a conference table, trying to seal a multi-million dollar business deal.