Ian's Ultimate Gamble - Brenda Jackson [24]
She felt her jaw go slack. "What?"
He pulled back just a little, enough for her to see the darkness of his eyes. "I need to leave in the morning for Memphis to finalize the sale of the riverboat. I'll be gone for two days."
"Oh." She tried hiding her disappointment and couldn't. Her pouty expression must have given her away.
He looked somewhat amused when he asked, "Are you going to miss me?"
She gave him a weak smile. Oh, yes, she would miss him, but then the separation would give her a chance to screw her head back on straight. "Not at all," she said teasingly.
"Um, then maybe I should give you a reason to miss me... and to look forward to my return." Before Brooke could draw her next breath she was swept off her feet into Ian's strong arms.
Ian didn't have to go far to the sofa, which was a good thing because he was so terribly aroused his zipper was about to burst. Only Brooke could do this to him this quick and fast, with an urgency that made him want to tear the clothes off her body and do it then and there.
But he knew with Brooke he could never just do it. Oh, yeah, in the past they would mate like rabbits several times over, and he would take her in every position known to man— even some he'd conjured up that actually defied the laws of gravity— but still, in his mind they had never just done it. Each time they'd come together, intimately connected, it had meant something emotionally, too. They had always made love and never just had sex. Even now when he wanted to work her out of his system, he knew it would mean something.
And that was the gist of his dilemma.
Although he wanted to believe otherwise, making love to Brooke would be more than a means to an end. His best-laid intentions could backfire, and she could get even deeper under his skin. That thought was unnerving.
And yet that possibility hadn't lessened his desire for her, hadn't stopped his testosterone from kicking into overdrive or from giving him the most intense arousal he'd had in four years. In other words, he needed to "do it," like, yesterday, but only with this woman.
He leaned back on the sofa with her in his arms, and before she could open her mouth to utter a single word, his tongue was there, lapping her next breath from her parted lips. He kissed her deeply. His heart throbbed, his pulse was going haywire and his hands seemed to be everywhere, but mostly working their way under her dress.
When he realized that in less than five seconds flat he had his fingers right smack between her legs, he snapped his head up and stared at her. This was madness. This was crazy. This was typical Ian and Brooke.
He drew in an unsteady breath when these thoughts rang through his mind. They had always been hot for each other, and nothing had changed. Together they were spontaneous as hell. Whenever their bodies joined as one all they had to do was think orgasm and it happened.
He saw the darkening of her eyes, a signal that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But he needed to hear her say it. He had to know before he went any further that whatever they did tonight, she would be with him all the way and there would be no regrets. "Brooke"?"
She heard her name whispered from his lips in a tone so raspy and sensual it made her breath hitch in her throat. She knew what he wanted. She also knew what he was asking, and at the moment she couldn't deny Ian Westmoreland a single thing. It had been four years for her, and the abstinence had taken its toll. She felt out of her league, something she'd never felt with Ian before. She didn't know how to react. The only thing she did know was that she wanted him.
She reached out and clutched the lapels of his jacket. "I don't understand the intensity of this, Ian," she whispered truthfully, pulling his mouth down closer to hers.
"Then let me explain it to you without words," he said silkily against her lips.
And then he was kissing her again, and with their mouths still connected he slid to the edge of the sofa. Shifting her in his arms he changed her