Chasing Mrs. Right (6 page)

The only problem was, Roxanne didn’t let go of his towel. It stayed in her hands instead of around his waist.

They stared at each other for three heartbeats before her gaze coasted down his chest to his cock. He could almost feel her gaze there, stroking him the same way she’d done last night. “You and I both know I can have you naked and coming on my cock inside of three minutes, your self-control be damned.”

Roxanne licked her lips. “I…uh…I’m going to go now.”

“That’s probably wise.”

But she didn’t move.

Chapter Eight

Roxanne twisted the towel in her hands. She needed to go. She needed to go
right now
. But how was she supposed to go anywhere when Ian was standing there, sexy as all get-out, looking like some offspring of Adonis who’d wandered into the wrong apartment?

“This is a mistake.”

He didn’t move so much as a muscle. “Then leave.”

“I’m going to.” But she took a step closer to him instead.

“Stop.” He held up a hand as if to ward her off. If it weren’t for the fact that he’d just kissed her and was now standing at full attention down south, she’d think she was misreading his signals. But he had, and his cock was raring and ready to go. Still, she obeyed the command. She was helpless to do anything else.

Ian noticed—he seemed to notice everything. “I’m not a mistake, Roxanne.”

No, he wasn’t. He was a goddamn miracle. One she had no idea what to do with. “I don’t do relationships,” she said. “I don’t do commitment. I don’t do love.”

She’d tried, truly tried, on all counts in the past, desperate to prove her mother wrong, but they all ended the same—in tears and heartbreak. Catching her last ex-boyfriend in
her
bed with another woman the day after he brought Roxanne roses and said “I love you” for the first time had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. When she’d confronted him, he’d actually had to gall to tell her it wasn’t her—it was him. She couldn’t go through that again, especially since she suspected a relationship with Ian would be just as intense as every interaction they’d had up to this point. The inevitable breakup might actually destroy her.

“Who said I was asking for any of those?”

That should have reassured her. It sure as hell shouldn’t have felt like a slap in the face. But none of her reactions to this man fell into the neat little boxes she’d created for herself. She made herself smile. “You say that now. Guys always say that to begin with. But what about later?”

“Why not take things one day at a time? I’m not a fan of closing doors before I get to them. You never know what could change.”

His words were calm, were so damn self-assured despite the turmoil in his eyes—turmoil she suspected she was adding to. Knowing that, knowing her being difficult was adding to his already-towering list of things to deal with, made her want to scream. Last night had been amazing in so many ways, but she hadn’t bargained on ever seeing him again. The plan had been to soothe their mutual pain and walk away, no harm done.

Except she was doing harm right now.

All she wanted was for him to hold her and tell her that they’d figure this out. But it
wasn’t
going to be okay, and she couldn’t deal with every ounce of her limited self-control demanding she go to him anyway. If they kept spending time together, she’d never be able to keep the emotional distance necessary to survive when he walked away. Because he would walk away. Men always did, especially beautifully damaged ones like Ian. He wouldn’t be damaged forever, and when he finally reined in his demons, he’d want a wife and children. A family. He most definitely wouldn’t want the kind of baggage Roxanne brought to the table.

No. She couldn’t do this. Not now, not ever, and definitely not with Ian. No matter how much she wanted to. It was that want, more than anything else, that sent actual fear coursing through her. Realizing her hands were shaking, she dropped the towel, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “I have to go.”

Whatever he saw on her face, it closed down his own, until he offered her nothing. He might as well have been clothed in designer brands for all the calm he exuded. She kind of wished she felt that level of
anything
right now, because somehow he’d put her at a disadvantage even though he was naked and she was fully clothed.

“You know the way out.” He turned and walked away, and damn it, Roxanne couldn’t help staring at his ass until he shut the bedroom door behind him. If the man had an imperfect spot on his body, she had yet to see it.

The worst part was, she wanted to follow him into that room, to lose herself for a few hours in his arms. But that was the problem. She’d lose a piece of herself when she walked away—she already had.
This
was why she kept her distance, why she reduced her sexual encounters to one-night stands and short-term relationships, though even those had dropped off in the last two years.

She should have known better. Hadn’t she recognized a kindred spirit in Ian from the get-go? If she was already feeling a connection with him before they even kissed, she should have guessed sex would make things infinitely more complicated. No, it wasn’t love, but it hurt to walk away. She’d thought she could handle one night, since they’d never see each other again after it.

That hadn’t worked out quite the way she’d planned.

She left the apartment and walked to her car, ignoring the voice inside demanding she go back. Her crazy reaction to Ian was exactly why she had to stay away from him. She’d done her duty to Elle, and he didn’t want to talk about whatever it was driving him out of his mind.

So why did she feel like she was hip-deep in quicksand and sinking fast?

…

No matter what he did, Ian couldn’t get the look on Roxanne’s face out of his head. It had changed from desire to something else entirely—fear. It had surprised him enough to break the connection thrumming between them and walk away. Her warnings still rang in his ears, even hours later. No relationships, commitment, or love. She couldn’t have been clearer if she flat-out said all she’d wanted from him was one night of sex. He shouldn’t be surprised, not after the way she’d left this morning. Now was the time to let it go. She didn’t want anything from him, and he wasn’t exactly in the right place to jump into something serious. How could a woman like her be happy with a guy who didn’t even have his shit together enough to hang out in a bar?

He wished he could shake the connection he felt. Ever since he decided to get out of the military, he’d felt like he was lost at sea, set adrift from life with nothing really holding him in place. Now, finally, here was this woman who actually seemed to
see
him—all of him—without flinching. She understood, as much as one person can understand another.

He’d be a fool to let her slip away just because something about him scared the shit out of her. He wanted to know the source of that fear. Christ, if he were honest with himself, he wanted to soothe her in the same way she’d managed to soothe him. If that meant throwing on a suit of armor and riding off to slay some dragons, Ian was more than willing to do so.

No. It was none of his business. He should walk away before this went any further. He had no business pursuing her, not when she’d made it so clear she wanted nothing from him.

But he couldn’t make himself leave it alone.

Ian got dressed, thinking fast. First things first—he needed a plan of attack. He’d felt completely off his stride ever since he woke up this morning, so he needed time to find his balance before he went in for round two.

Roxanne had already proven herself to be a runner, which meant he’d have to take away her options. If he could find out where she worked, maybe that would be the place to do it. The woman was obviously a professional—she’d balk at the idea of causing a scene in her place of business. He grinned. Yeah, that was playing dirty, but he learned a long time ago that most people didn’t play by the rules.

Who knew years of combat experience would be exactly the training he needed to court a woman?

His smile died at the thought. That was the only thing good to come out of all those months spent crawling through the sand, sleeping with his weapon, and drowning in the constant state of awareness. He’d managed to get out without full-blown PTSD, but some of his friends weren’t so fortunate—and those were the ones who made it home without serious injury or losing a limb. Hell, Ian was one of the lucky ones, even if he didn’t feel it most days.

He looked around the loft, at the comfortable furniture and tastefully painted walls. He didn’t fit here, didn’t fit anywhere in Spokane anymore. The only time he’d actually felt completely at peace was when he was around Roxanne. Not even running was doing a damn thing to help. Nothing could compare to the peace she brought him.

No way could he let her go without a fight.

He’d give her some time, and then he’d corner her and ask her out. She might say no, but he had a feeling he could couch the terms in such a way that she wouldn’t.

Yes, Roxanne was going out with him again.

She just didn’t know it yet.

Chapter Nine

“There’s someone here to see you.”

Another one?
Roxanne should have known this would happen after she got that write-up in
Brides.
Everyone and their dog in the Inland Northwest seemed to have read the article, and they wanted
her
to plan their weddings. Business was booming. It was great—or it would be if she ever got the time to return the dozens of phone calls and respond to the million emails she’d gotten as a result.

So why was she having such a hard time concentrating?

“Probably because of interruptions like this one,” she muttered, then pushed the intercom button and put some cheer into her voice. “Send them in.”

“Sure thing.”

At least her receptionist, Mallory, was a miracle worker. The woman was a scheduling fiend, and she had a gift for calming down hysterical clients. Once they’d paid down the bills enough to breathe, Roxanne fully intended on giving Mallory a raise.

Her thoughts nose-dived when Ian walked into her office. She rubbed her eyes, sure that her fevered fantasies had gotten away from her again. She didn’t particularly want to count how many times she’d come while thinking about him in the last week. Thank God she had a rechargeable buzzy friend, or the battery bill alone would have killed her.

Heat crept across her face, and she mentally cursed herself for letting him get to her again. He was the worst one-night stand she’d ever had, if only because he wasn’t staying in the box she’d created for their interaction. It was a really nice box, all tight and confined and well-defined.

When Ian shut the door and leaned against it, she finally found her voice. “What are you doing here?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing her attention to the short sleeves he wore and how his shoulder muscles molded the fabric so gloriously.

And still he didn’t say a damn thing. She licked her lips, suddenly aware of how dry her throat was. “Ian…”

“I’m here to take you to dinner.”

Wait—what? “Excuse me?”

“It’s the meal you eat in the evening.” He made a show of looking at his watch. “It’s evening.”

“I’m not hungry.” She prayed her stomach wouldn’t make a sound and betray her. Even as she did, she wondered what the point of fighting this was. Ian had a look in his eyes that she recognized—Elle had one just like it. Though Elle never managed to look quite so intense. He wasn’t going to give in.

If she were honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

“Your assistant said you missed lunch.”

“I had a full breakfast.”

“A quad white mocha. Yes, I heard.” He actually grimaced a little. “I have no idea how you can stomach those things, but it explains a lot.”

She refused to ask what he meant by
that
statement. She was going to have to have a talk with Mallory about her opening her mouth to a gorgeous man. “Apparently my assistant needs to have a talk about what would be considered appropriate information to give to prospective clients.”

“Prospective client? Last time we talked, I did mention I wasn’t getting a ring. Maybe you should calm down about planning our wedding.”

Our wedding
. The term made her break out in a cold sweat. Only the fact that his mouth was quirked up on one side kept her from trying to escape through the window. “You’re a terrible person.”

“Not according to everyone who knows me. I have a fantastic reputation.” His smile widened. “And your assistant didn’t tell me about the coffee. You were drinking one last week.”

“So what makes you think I had one this morning?”

He raised his eyebrows. “My sister mentioned you have an addiction to the damn things.”

“You’ve been checking up on me.” Of course he was. She might not know him that well, but even Roxanne recognized that Ian was a man most comfortable when he had a plan. The lack of one was probably part of the reason he’d been so off-balance on the night they met. Not that she’d since gone over every single thing he’d said to her and analyzed it to death.

“Come to dinner.” The request would have been a lot more convincing if he hadn’t phrased it as a command. His dark eyes drank her in, making her really glad she’d worn a little black dress today. It wasn’t quite fancy enough to go clubbing in, but it suited a day at the office. From his expression, he liked it. A lot. “I promise not to ravish you.”

“What if I want to be ravished?” The words were out before she could think better of them. Damn it, when would she get a handle on her impulse control? Oh right—never. Her first response when she felt uncomfortable or threatened was to come back with sexual innuendo or jokes. She shifted, trying to relieve the tension coiling through her stomach and lower, but the movement only made it worse.

Ian, of course, noticed. “Why don’t we play it by ear?”

“Fantastic plan. If I remember correctly, you have extremely sensitive ears.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Do I?” She hated this, hated how careful he was being with her. Even though she feared it, she wanted to reclaim the easy thing they’d had going the first night. Damn him for listening to her babbling worries before. She hated how she felt so vulnerable all of a sudden. As if he really did have the ability to hurt her.

Only one way to take back control of the situation.

A little voice murmured that this probably was the worst way to feel in control, but Roxanne ignored it. She was tired of being cautious and worried and so freaking alone. So she pushed her chair back and stood, watching him watch her.

“You want to know a secret?” She came around the desk, trailing her fingers over the polished wood, and took the three steps that brought her chest-to-chest with Ian. “When I’m touching myself, all I have to do is think about your hands on me in the bar, and it’s enough to send me over the edge.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

She wanted to smack him for not playing along. If he wasn’t going to leave her alone, the least he could do was let their interaction remain on her terms. Who was she kidding? Ian wasn’t the type to sit back and let others make his decisions for him. With a sigh, she backed up and propped her ass against her desk. The angle made her dress ride up to seriously indecent heights, and from his harsh inhale, Ian noticed.

It took him an entire ten seconds to tear his gaze away from the hem of her dress. When he did, she recognized the question in his eyes. Roxanne raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t giving an inch. “Yes?”

“You wearing the same thing under that dress you wore under the pink skirt?” Which was to say—nothing.

Her heartbeat quickened at the way his voice had dropped an octave by the end of the question. “And if I am?”

“Answer the question, Roxanne.”

She leaned farther back, and the dress rose another half an inch—still not high enough to satisfy his curiosity. “Come find out.”

If it weren’t for the white-knuckle grip he had on his biceps, she might make the mistake of thinking he couldn’t care one way or another. He did care, though, even if he didn’t freaking move. “You’re playing games.”

“I only play games I intend on winning.”

“And the loser?”

“If there’s a loser, you’re doing it wrong.”

“I seem to remember someone saying something similar to me recently.”

Why hadn’t he moved yet? He just stood there, retaining every bit of control. “She must have been a smart woman.”

“Yes, she is.” Ian took a step away from the wall. A step closer to her. “She’s also sexy as hell.”

“Think so?”

“Yeah.”

He was still too far away, and she refused to reach for him, even though she desperately wanted to. Instead, she trailed her hand up her thigh. “I guess if you’re not going to take my invitation, I’ll just have to take care of myself.”

“That would be a crying shame.” He took another step closer, bringing himself within touching distance. Instead of kissing her—or, hell, touching her—Ian dropped into the chair next to her knee. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

God, she didn’t want to hear that. Better to keep this strictly about sex. She held her breath as he pressed two fingers to the inside of her right knee. It would have been simple to resist the gentle pressure he exerted. She didn’t. She let him push her until she perched on the desk with a knee on either side of his chair. The position left her completely open—completely vulnerable—and yet she’d never felt more powerful.

“
Christ
.” He stroked up the inside of either thigh with his thumbs, before gripping the top of her thighs and yanking her to the very edge of the desk. “Do you ever wear panties?”

If this was the response going commando got from him, Roxanne would never wear panties again. Except she wasn’t supposed to make this a regular occurrence. God, she should stop this. If she closed her knees, Ian would let her walk away. She was sure of it. But she could admit now, in her heart of hearts, that she was dying to have him touch her again. If she had to submit to a date to get this, then she would. Her reasoning sounded flimsy, even to her. She licked her lips. “Not when I can help it.”

He traced the dip where her thigh ended, spreading her as if he wanted to see every single part of her. “I approve.”

Before she could come up with something witty to say—seriously, what
could
she say?—he dipped down and pressed his mouth to her. She surprised herself by making a high-pitched noise and slapped a hand over her mouth. He lifted his head just long enough to grin at her. “Better keep it down. Don’t want your assistant knowing you’re spread out on your desk with me going down on you, do you?”

“Um…”

He licked her again, going slow. Apparently sure he had all the time in the world. She looked down the line of her body, the position offering all too clear a view of what he was doing to her. With his hands maintaining their iron grip on her thighs, she couldn’t do anything but submit to his desire, take whatever he chose to give her. This wasn’t what she intended when she started this seduction. She was supposed to be in charge. “Ian.”

“If you’re still able to form words, I’m not doing my job right.” Before she had a chance to argue, he pressed a hand against her chest, directly between her breasts. “Down.”

“But—”

“Down.” Again, it wasn’t a request. Roxanne obeyed before she had a chance to wonder why the hell she was doing it. He didn’t give her time to change her mind, though. He shoved two fingers inside her, the brutality of the penetration completely at odds with the slow swirling of his tongue on her clit. Even as he fucked her with his fingers, he made love to her with his mouth. Caught between the warring sensations, Roxanne’s existence narrowed down to the pressure building inside her, each touch pushing it higher.

Her orgasm caught her completely by surprise, bowing her back and drawing cries from her throat until she had to press both hands to her mouth to muffle the sound. And still he kept going, wringing every last shudder of pleasure from her. It was only when her legs fell open, unable to keep up the tension, that he finally withdrew his fingers and sat back. “Jesus, woman.”

Roxanne’s laugh was hoarse, and she couldn’t quite make her muscles work like they were supposed to. She managed to sit up, but that was as far as she was getting. “Me? I’m practically an innocent bystander.”

“Hardly innocent.” He squeezed her knee, even that soft touch making her shiver. Before she had a chance to say anything, he scooped her off the desk and set her in his lap. She went still, ready to shove him away—sex was one thing, but he was cuddling her as if she actually meant something to him. And, damn it, she wanted to melt into him and just let him hold her. When she started to push off him, Ian grabbed her hands. “Just sit still and let me hold you.”

Once again, she couldn’t ignore the command. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t want to. This gave her the excuse she needed to let him wrap her up—not that she’d ever admit that out loud. With a sigh, Roxanne laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. This felt good—safe. When he pressed his lips against the top of her head and traced lazy circles on her back with his hand, she could almost believe her mother was wrong, and not every relationship turned to hate.

She opened her eyes. No, she couldn’t risk thinking like that. If she let her guard down, she was screwed. He had just given her yet another mind-blowing orgasm, but that didn’t mean the truth of her situation had changed. She couldn’t let him get close.

Or, rather, closer than he already was.

“You hungry now?”

She leaned back and stared. “What?”

“I didn’t stutter, Rox. Let’s get some grub.”

“But…” She motioned at herself and at his painfully obvious erection. “We aren’t finished here. You haven’t—”

“I know.” He helped her to her feet and adjusted his jeans. “But I’m not having sex with you.”

“
What?
”

“You can barely admit that you want me, and every time I’ve seen you since the night I got back into town, you practically jumped down my throat. So, no, we’re not having sex.” He glanced at where her dress was still up around her waist. “Honestly, I hadn’t planned on touching you again until you got your shit figured out.”

She couldn’t decide if he was being an ass or sweet or something else altogether. “Ian, I—”

“I repeat—I’m not asking you for a commitment, crazy or otherwise. All I’m asking for is dinner.”

When he put it like that, it didn’t sound so terrifying. Roxanne pulled her dress back into place. She could do this. It was just one dinner, and he had already proven himself to be a great conversationalist—verbal and otherwise.