Page 9 of The Billionaire's Secret Intentions
He wants me. The realization makes me shiver, and my body thrums with need. Taking off my top, he moves me so I’m lying with my back on the couch. I inhale sharply as his knuckles graze over my breasts through the thin fabric of my bra.
“Ian,” I moan, as he trails kisses along my neck.
In one swift move, he unclasps my bra. I gasp as he touches my bare skin. His tongue teases round my areola as his fingers move further. He places a kiss above my belly button, before moving upward. The feel of his hands on my skin make me hot and cold at the same time. I writhe beneath him, taking in shallow breaths. His warm breath caresses my breast.
“You want this?” he says huskily.
“Y-yes,” I say without thinking, wrapping my arms around his neck.
Ending the sweet torture, his lips touch my skin. I shiver, stifling a moan.
“Ian –”
My phone rings.
I jump, and the fog in my head clears. Shoving down my top, I rummage in my bag for my phone. Elena’s voice rings in my ear.
“Have you given the book to Dylan?”
I blink. “Err, yes. Yes, I have.”
“Okay. Thank you. Talk to you later.”
I stare at the phone for several second after the call ends, forcing air into my lungs. My cheeks flame. I was just making out with Ian. What was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking at all. Shutting my eyes, I inhale deeply and turn to him. He’s on his feet, fully dressed, looking at me like he’s just realized what happened to us. We stare at each other for a while.
“We shouldn’t —”
“I’m sorry—”
He nods and takes a step back. “I’ll go.”
“Okay.”
After he leaves, I lean against the door and sink to the floor, shame washing over me. How could I have acted so impulsively? Another moment, and I’d have welcomed him in.
“It’s the alcohol,” I mumble, leaning my head against the door. “It won’t happen again.”
Chapter Four: Ian
“I’m sure your mom will be glad to see you.”
Kaylee’s words reverberate in my head as I sit in my car outside Mom’s house, staring at her door. It’s been three days since my arrival. Three days avoiding the one person I should’ve been all too eager to see. The door opens. I sit up. Platinum blonde hair packed in a ponytail comes into view, followed by the rest of her. Yellow tracksuit, white running shoes: some things never change. For as long as I remember, she’s always gone on a run every evening by six pm. She’s never missed a day – not even the day dad died. That day, she ran for hours before returning to the house with tear-streaked face at nine thirty pm, her face pale and tear-streaked. Her hands were cold as she touched my face. She looked into my eyes and said,
“We’ll pull through together.” And we did. Until we didn’t.
Melissa, I like to call her by her first name sometimes, stretches her arms, turning her neck this way and that. She jogs on the porch for a few seconds, before jogging down the stairs.
I should go.
Yet, I make no move to leave the car. She waves at an elderly woman across the street, her face lit up with a smile. She turns her head, and stares straight at me.
I suck in a breath. Here goes. Removing my seatbelt, I step out of the car. She just stands there, looking at me with wide eyes. I didn’t tell her I was coming home.
“Ian.” Her voice is tiny and soft. “You’re back.”
I stop a few feet in front of her. “Yes.”