Trust (46 page)

“You sleep with a gadget?” he smiled, a glint in his eyes. “Tell me more about this device, Sophia.”

She laughed, playfully slapping his arm, “My Kindle.”

“Oh, aye. Your books.” He concealed his disappointment.

“Have you heard of Isaac Barrow?” When he shook his head she carried on, “He was an English mathematician and theologian, who died in 1677. He said, ‘He who loveth a book will never want a faithful friend, a wholesome counselor, a cheerful companion, or an effectual comforter.’ It’s so true. I am alone with a book, but never lonely.”

“Well, well, well.” He bowed low and turned, waving his hand, still a big smile on his lips, “First, Thomas à Kempis. Now, Isaac Barrow. My medieval lady, it’s time for me to say good-bye and leave you to your books.”

“Silly man,” she laughed. “Hey, come back here. You’re going the wrong way, that’s my-” she ran after him and heard his laughter again as he entered her dressing room.

“Do you have OCD?” he asked her with a broad grin.

“What?” She shed her jacket and hung it in its place.

He watched as she did it and laughed out loud again. “OCD. Obsessive compulsive disorder?”

“No, of course not,” she scowled at his laughing face. “Why do you ask?”

“Looks like you do. You rearranged the cushions to perfection in the reception room, shut every door, and turned off every light. You have a perfectly ordered refrigerator and returned the glass immediately to its place. You put Gabriela’s book away and hung your coat in its place. I bet you’re going to put your shoes,” he pointed to the shoes she was carrying, “back in their rightful place. And look at this dressing room! It looks like a shop.” He turned, laughing more, shaking his head. “And I thought
I
was organized. I can’t show you my dressing room,” he chuckled again, this time darker, imagining her in his dressing room.
Oh, yes, Sophia. If I show you my special closet, what will your reaction be?

“Isn’t it easier to find things when they’re organized?” she asked. “I used to have eight employees working at my apartment back in Brazil. Now, I only have four-”

“Four?” he frowned. “You named at least seven people who live here.”

“Six. But the bodyguards don’t help with the house. They are strictly dedicated to protecting Gabriela and me. And there’s a maintenance company that comes twice a week to take care of the garden, clean the pool, and do all the hard stuff. This house is big and difficult to maintain. Coats go with coats, not with shirts. White shirts are followed by yellow and then orange and so forth. The same goes for the rest of the house. It’s not OCD. It’s just that it’s simpler to put things in their place.” Saying this, she put her shoes in their right place and finished her explanation, “I could find anything even in the dark if I needed to.”

“In the dark? You dress in the dark?” He chortled, hugging his stomach. “Some kind of perversion? Or are you absolutely nuts?”

He tried but could not contain a guffaw, imagining a scene, “Oh, Davidoff,” he squealed in a female voice, “I cannot meet the clients today.” He mimicked her, swinging his hips from side to side, dramatically. “You see,” he flicked an effeminate wave down his body, “I mismatched the colors of my clothes and my shoes. I dressed in the dark-” And doubled in a fit of laughter.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that!” She advanced in his direction.

He straightened, his hand up, trying to say peace, while laughing.

“Too late, Handsome.” As she stalked up to him, he backed out into the bedroom.

“Sophia,” he said, still chuckling. “Stop. I wasn’t laughing at you. But you are too good to be true.”

“He who laughs last, laughs best.” With one hand, she caught him by the cardigan and yanked his body to hers, while with the other she enlaced her fingers in his hair pulling his head down.

She stood on her toes and kissed him. He gasped at the attack. She seized the moment to explore his mouth with her tongue. One of his arms pressed her onto his body while his knee pried her legs open. The other hand rose to her breast, the silk no barrier to his touch.

“Sophia, I want you.”

His face showed his disbelief as she started to undo his scarf. His hand stopped hers. She looked up.

“You know what you are about to do, right?” His accent was so pronounced and his voice so husky that she had some trouble understanding him.

She arched on his body, gazing at his green eyes flaming with desire, “I want you, too,” she whispered.

“There is no turning back from here,” he warned, quietly.

“I know,” Sophia breathed.

Chapter 20

Sophia exuded an air full of passion. She pushed Alistair’s scarf to the sides and kissed his chest above the V-neck of his black T-shirt. She undid the buttons of his cardigan, one by one, and yanked his shirt up, licking the line of his pectoral until she found a nipple and sucked it hard.

Pleasure and astonishment flooded his veins as she kissed and licked his chest and his abs with abandonment.
How long? How long since I’ve let a soft, gentle, normal woman take control?
He remembered Tavish’s words.
Don’t rush things with her. Try to become the younger Alistair again
.

I’m enjoying this
. He was so shocked at his reaction that he didn’t notice when the scarf fell to the floor. When her hand went to his zipper, he stopped her again.

“There’s no hurry,” he said quietly. Sophia was shaking. He didn’t know if she was nervous or aroused. “Trust me on this.”

“Make love to me, Alistair. Please.”

A wicked look gleamed in his emerald gaze as he shoved off his cardigan and his long-sleeved T-shirt. He cupped her face in his hands. “I like to hear you begging,” he whispered on her lips.

He bent his head ever so slowly and brushed his lips against hers, his tongue licking the contours of her mouth, leisurely.

His gentle kiss drove Sophia insane with longing. She pressed herself onto his chest, in an attempt to ease the hunger she felt. Her hands stroked his hair and pulled him down as she opened her mouth to suck and bite his bottom lip.

He took control of the kiss, his lips became more demanding, and his tongue dipped in her mouth, entwining with hers. His thumbs caressed the column of her neck and pressed down on her throat as his hands encircled it, narrowing his grip.

Sophia gasped at the unusual caress. The insinuated violence made her giddy with pleasure.
What the hell?
But the thought left as soon as his hands lowered, expanding over her shoulders, and down to the buttons of her blouse, pausing there.

Sophia pushed his head away and stared at his face. “Yes, please,” she breathed hoarsely, gliding her hands from his nape to his chest with a feathery touch. Desire throbbed between her thighs. She parted her lips to search for air as he undid only two buttons and opened her shirt over the shoulders, pinning her arms to her torso.
Oh, my
.

Her ivory lace bra did nothing to hide her breasts and pink nipples. His mouth watered. He dropped his head to her shoulder and kissed it, biting where it united with the neck.

Sophia hissed through clenched teeth, her hands clutching his ribcage.

He murmured with satisfaction, but she didn’t understand the words. And she didn’t care.

He moved down and sucked a nipple through the lacy bra, enjoying the dual feeling of the lace and the soft skin beneath it.

Sophia moaned and Alistair could almost hear her heart pounding. His fingers wandered over her body, as one of his legs pressed between hers.

A tingle of uncertainty flashed through her mind.
I shouldn’t have started this
. But another thought overrode the first.
Why not?

Her belt fell to the rug with a soft thump.

“Sophia, you are so beautiful,” he murmured against her breast and bit and tugged. Hard.

Sophia gasped, her nails dug into his waist. Alistair’s gasped.

A zipper whispered and her skirt fell to the floor. His large hands encompassed her back, his fingers kneaded her butt gently, and his thumbs pressed her hipbone.

Sophia moaned loudly. He grinned and his lips moved to her other breast, his tongue leaving a wet trail. He licked the nipple and sucked it in his mouth, biting it, too.

Ah!
His movements and caresses transfixed Sophia.
He’s well practiced in this
.

He lifted his head from her breast, slowly undoing the other buttons and letting the blouse float to the floor.

Alistair suddenly needed to look at her. He stepped back, without releasing her.

They stood mere feet apart-she in her underwear, he in his jeans-wordlessly, appraising each other.

He had the perfect build for his great height. Broad shoulders and chiseled chest tapered into a narrow waist. Only a thin trail of black hair descended from his navel to waist of his jeans, which encased his long and muscled legs.

And something more
. She eyed the bulge under his fly.
Oh, my. Something very big
.

The sight of her dazzled him. Proudly, she held her head high and her shoulders back. Her black hair, falling almost to her waist, covered one pert, plump breast.
She’s… breathtaking, ravishing… No words do her justice
.

“You are” he breathed, “magnificent.”

Her slim waist widened into slightly round hips. Her lacy panties covered only a small and thin patch of dark hair; she was almost bare. Her legs were long and firm.

Oh, fuck. Brazilian wax. I want her. I need her. Now
.

Sophia followed his rapt gaze and suddenly felt shy.
No one has ever looked at me like this. No one. So much ardor, so much passion
. She felt her whole body on fire, consuming all the air in her lungs.

He closed the gap between them, running his hands from her shoulders down her arms and up again, going to her breasts, cupping them through the ivory lace bra.

He picked her up in his arms and laid her down in the middle of the bedspread. “I have no words.” He shook his head, astonished at the intensity of his feelings.

She palmed her hands on his chest and smiled up at him.

He stretched on his side next to her. “Exactly how I pictured it,” he murmured. “Your glorious body against the sheets, your long hair spread on the pillows, framing your face and shoulders.” He shook his head. “It’s enough to drive a man insane, Sophia.”

Sophia was so astonished that she couldn’t make any sense of his words. “Please,” she moaned.
Oh, please, stop talking and… take me
. She almost giggled. Almost.

“Let me discover you.” His fingers touched her stomach, rounding her navel and her breath hitched. It glided up to her breast and to her shoulder, slowly lowering her bra strap, torturing her. His head bent down and he kissed the edge of her shoulder, his mouth traveling over her collarbone to the hollow of her throat, placing kisses along the way and down to the swell of her breast following the path of his warm hand.

He raised his head and looked at her eyes, the emerald-green meeting the yellow-diamond ones. He leaned, regarding her closely. He lapped at her nipple and sucked it hard into his mouth.

Sophia arched on the bed, moaning, her hands tangling in his hair. She felt his lips twisting into a smile and he took his time, swirling the nipple with his tongue, nipping it with his teeth and suckling her breast; while his now free hand went to the other shoulder and lowered the other strap with no rush.

“So soft,” he whispered as his elegant fingers cupped the other breast and massaged it. His thumb and index finger twisted the nipple between them. As Sophia moaned again, he chuckled and asked, “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes, don’t stop,” she sat up and undid the bra throwing it faraway.

He laughed and pushed her back with a gentle touch on her shoulder. He bent down kissing her mouth. His fingers went down again, fluttering on her shoulder, passing by her scar and stopping to caress it. He returned to the shoulder and moved to the other breast. His mouth trailed behind his hand, kissing her ear, biting her lobe, and caressing her arm. Alistair kissed the scar reverently and cupping a breast, sucked it into his mouth, suckling it.

Oh, my. He’s going to kill me
. “Alistair, please,” Sophia moaned loudly. She moved her hands from his hair to his shoulders, exploring his back. His strong shoulder and back muscles were hard, compared to the smooth texture of his skin, which made her want to lick him all over. Her hands moved down his back and found his trousers, “Jeans,” she panted. “Off.”

He jumped off the bed, took out his wallet from the back pocket and from it a condom, putting it on the bedside table. As he undid the button, he stared fixedly at her. His green eyes flashed hungrily. He unzipped his jeans, pushing them down, but keeping his underwear on. His black boxers tented from his straining erection.

Sophia stopped breathing.

“Boxers. Off.” Her voice hoarse.

He shook his head and returned to what he was doing. “There’s no hurry,” he whispered, “we have all night.”

Who said there’s no hurry?
She was past any coherent thought.

He wanted to hear her scream with pleasure; to make her come so hard she wouldn’t know up from down. He shifted his weight, bracing himself on his elbows, his legs falling on either side on hers; he kissed his way to her navel, delineating it with his tongue before getting on his knees.
She’s pure silk and velvet
.

His hands paused on her hips and he splayed them on her belly.
She’s about to become mine
. With his thumbs hooked under the thin straps of her matching ivory lace panties, he slowly pulled them down. His fingers deliberately touched her thighs, calves, and then her feet. He watched her face intently with his green infernal eyes, hooded by long dark lashes.

He gripped an ankle and lifted her leg to his mouth.

Sophia inhaled sharply and closed her eyes.
Ah!

Just the languid way he raised her leg was torture. “Open your eyes and look at me,” he ordered. When her eyes fluttered open, he licked her instep.

She moaned and fisted the sheets, arching on the bed. Her eyes rolled back in her head.