Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ROSE
All my fantasies didn’t come close to reality.
Making love with Ian is so much better than I imagined.
Those late nights alone in bed, I pictured Ian with all his muscles and his sexy little smile and the way he looks at me like I’m the most important person in the world…
I thought about how my skin is electrified whenever I’m around him—whenever I think about him, really—and the sizzles of heat his touch leaves behind.
My breath would catch just thinking about him.
But those were all wishful thoughts. Now, I have the real thing.
My Ian. Just like he sometimes calls me his Rose. I don’t mind it, this kind of possession. I’m his, just as he’s mine.
And when we’re making love, it never feels more true.
Feeling him inside me, thick and hard and just the right amount of pressure and friction as he moves. Our bodies colliding. Skin on skin. Kissing. Gazes meeting—dark with desire and love and tenderness—and falling into them.
Like now. Ian’s eyes almost twilight, sweeping across my body. The sun hits his face, turning his features into a contrast of gold and shadow.
One hand cups my breast, fingers lazily stroking my nipple, his skin a golden tan against my pale.
With his other, he braces himself over me, and yes, his arm muscles flexing are just as sexy as I thought they’d be.
His chest is broad, muscled, with a light dusting of golden-bronze hair that tapers down to his waist. And then?—
Velvety skin, thick and hot and slick with arousal, jutting out, ready for me. I wrap my hand around him, and Ian sucks in a sharp breath, then groans, “Sweet Rose. God, that feels so good.”
He lowers his mouth to my other breast, suckling at it, teasing and flicking at the sensitive peak. I arch my back, pressing into him instinctively.
As Ian ravishes my breasts, I keep stroking his thickening length, loving the feel of it, reveling in the power to bring him such pleasure.
When his teeth graze my nipple, I moan, and my core throbs with need.
There’s an aching emptiness inside me; my womb clenches and pressure coils low in my belly. In a voice that doesn’t sound like my own, I beg him, “ Please . I need you.”
“Ah. Not yet.” And there’s that smile, the one that drives me wild.
Then his hand moves from my breast to the apex of my thighs and finds that sensitive bud, exposed and waiting. And oh?—
His thumb flicks and rubs and presses, while he plunges one finger inside, then two—pumping in and out, stretching me, and my hips are thrusting against him…
“Ian,” I gasp. “Oh, God?—”
I’m too close, all my inner muscles fluttering, my breath quickening. But I need?—
“Okay, Rose.” His eyes flash at me, satisfaction gleaming. And he pulls his fingers out of me, then notches himself there instead. “ Now .”
Then he sinks into me in one move, filling me.
Oh . It’s so… beyond perfect. Like I’ve been waiting for Ian all my life. Like I was made for him.
“God, hun.” The muscles in his neck tense as he holds himself still. “How do you always… it’s incredible.”
I shut my eyes for a moment, concentrating on how amazing Ian feels.
When I open them, the look in his eyes makes my heart stutter. My lungs seize.
It’s everything I’m feeling, just without the words.
“Oh, Rose,” he murmurs, lowering his head to capture my lips. “You’re?—”
And he starts to move inside me. First slowly, each stroke a breathless tease. Then faster, harder, bottoming out each time. My legs wrap around Ian’s waist, holding him to me.
Everything else disappears except us and this indescribable connection. A pleasure so pure and perfect, it’s hard to believe it’s real.
He grabs my hips, tilting them so he can plunge even deeper. At this angle, he hits that spot , the one I thought was just a myth until Ian.
A primal sound comes out of me, half-moan, half whimper.
Another stroke and then…
A supernova. A galaxy coming to life. An explosion of absolute ecstasy. My inner walls convulse around him. My toes literally curl.
And then Ian rolls me over on top of him, lifts me up, and pulls me back down. Again. And again. Until he cries out—this unbelievably sexy sound—and pulses inside of me. Even harder than before. Thicker.
The rightness of it is overwhelming.
In the aftermath, I collapse onto his chest, feeling his heart pounding hard beneath my ear. His arms tighten around me, and like always, I feel completely safe.
After a minute or two, Ian rolls to the side, setting me beside him. Then he reaches over me, into the nightstand drawer, and pulls out something clasped in his hand.
Laying back down, he turns to me, looking more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. “I got you something. And I’ve been waiting, because I wanted to give it to you at the same time I…” A deep breath, and he opens his hand to reveal a small box. “This is for you. It’s… well…”
His expression is so vulnerable, so unlike the confident Ian he shows to everyone else. As he opens the box to reveal a gorgeous gold heart hanging at the end of a delicate chain, he explains quietly, “It’s a heart. Because you have mine. I was afraid. I didn’t want to fall in love. But with you, Rose… it was impossible not to.”
My heart stops. Is he? Did he? Am I hearing things right? “Love?”
“Yes.” Completely unguarded, Ian looks at me with hope in his eyes. “I love you, Rose. More than I ever thought possible. And… I’m just hoping you might feel the same way.”
Tears burn, but I blink them away. There’s no crying at such a perfect moment. “I do. I love you, too. I’ve known it, but I was too scared to say anything. But I do. I love you with all my heart.”
Ian sags in relief, and a grin spreads across his face. “Oh. Rose. You have no idea how scared I was to say that.”
“Did you think I didn’t feel the same?”
With shaking hands, he fastens the necklace around my neck. “I thought you did. But…”
“I understand.” After such a terrible betrayal, Ian locked his heart away for years. Of course it was scary offering it to me. Framing his face with my hands, I hold his gaze. “I love you. I. Love. You. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Rose…” He sucks in a breath. “I can’t lose you. I didn’t tell you I love you now in an attempt to convince you not to go through with this plan; I know you need to do it. But please, please be careful.”
Tonight’s the night of the pop-up art show, and I’ve known Ian wasn’t happy about it. But knowing how he feels about me… it makes more sense. “I promise,” I tell him. “If there’s anything that feels off, I won’t go through with it.”
He stares at me for a second, then exhales heavily. “Okay.” Another pause, and a slow smile appears. “Since I took the day off and this thing isn’t until tonight, how about if we celebrate being in love?” His gaze slides to my breasts. “A few times, at least.”
It feels funny not having my cast on.
Freeing, but also scary.
Partly because I’m not supposed to have it off yet, so I know I’m taking a risk of messing up my hand if I bang it on something. And partly because of what it signifies—this plan to hopefully trap the person behind all this. To put an end to being afraid.
But I can’t very well go to a pop-up exhibition claiming I’m painting like normal again with a cast on my hand. That wouldn’t be very convincing.
So I’m wearing a brace instead. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them the truth. It’s for protection.
And tomorrow, once this thing is over, I’ll go back to the doctor and listen to him lecture me before he puts the cast on again.
No, I didn’t go to the doctor to have the cast cut off. I convinced Ian to do it instead. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but I wheedled and reasoned until he finally gave in, grumbling, “For the record, I don’t like this.”
I know he doesn’t. And I hate that I’m making him worry, but I really think it’s going to be okay. Or at least, I don’t think I’ll get hurt. My plan may flop, but I trust Ian and the Blade and Arrow team to keep me safe.
Plus the eye strike. I haven’t forgotten about that.
“It’s not too late to change your mind.” Ian turns down a winding driveway lined with solar lights, then glances over at me. A tiny muscle in his jaw twitches. “We can still have the show, but I’ll stay with you the entire time, and that’ll be it.”
“Ian.”
“It’ll just be like a party,” he continues. “We’ll hang out with our friends, have some food, and at the end of the night, we’ll pack up all your paintings and go home. And Blade and Arrow can keep investigating, and they’ll figure it out.”
“Ian.” My voice firms.
“What?” He slows the car to a stop and puts it in park. “I’m just saying. You’re not obligated to go through with this.”
“I know that. But I want to. Yes, it’s scary, but I trust you guys. I trust you . I need to try this.”
In the dim of the car, his face is in shadows, the moon glinting silver in his eyes. He sighs. “I know. And I’m sorry. It’s just… I hate not being with you for this.”
“I know.”
“Okay.” His chin raises. “Let’s go do this, then.”
He keeps his arm wrapped securely around my waist as we walk to the back entrance of Cash’s house—his mansion, really— where he offered to hold the show. It made sense; this way the team could get in early to prepare, hiding cameras and scouting escape routes and whatever else they’re planning. Plus, Cash is a well-known business owner, so it won’t come across as unusual for him to host an event.
Just before we get to the door, Ian stops. “You look beautiful, by the way.” His eyes sweep across the new dress I’m wearing for the occasion, an emerald-green wrap dress that shimmers when the light hits it and makes me look like I have more curves than I do.
“So do you.” He’s wearing a dark charcoal suit that shows off his broad shoulders, and I’m a sucker for a guy wearing a white button-down shirt. Especially Ian. I’m already anticipating all the single women at the show trying to flirt with him.
Not that I’m worried. Ian’s never given me a single reason not to trust him.
His eyes darken appreciatively, and he pulls me close, one hand at my nape and the other at my back. “Actually. Beautiful isn’t a strong enough word. Breathtaking. And I love that you’re wearing this—” He touches my new necklace. “It looks perfect on you.”
Oh . My heart. And other, lower, regions, too.
Ian’s leaning in to kiss me when the back door to the house opens. Zane pokes his head out and says, “Alright, you two. Stop making out. We have a trap to set.”
Ian mutters something under his breath about nosy friends and then calls back, “We were about to. Until you interrupted us.”
Zane chuckles. “There’s time for that later. Come on.”
Ten minutes later, my stomach is filled with a kaleidoscope of butterflies—Thea told me that’s what a flock of butterflies is called and it’s stuck with me—and I’m wondering how I thought I could pull this off.
I’m in the middle of a huddle, but clearly the least skilled of the group. There’s Ian, Cole, Zane, Finn, Grant—who’s a former Navy SEAL—Cash, and Oliver, who’s here unofficially as Maya’s brother. And me. The artist with a broken hand.
“We have cameras set up throughout the first floor of the house,” Cole is saying. “Finn will be monitoring them from the library. If he sees anything, he’ll let us know immediately through our comms.”
The men give a series of chin lifts in acknowledgement. Zane adds, “Anything that looks concerning, report it. Even if it’s someone trying to steal silverware.” His gaze sweeps around the group before landing on Ian. “We’re not letting anything escape our attention.”
Cole nods. “As for our stations, I have Ian in the kitchen. Cash in the living room. Grant in the hallway that leads to the guest wing. Oliver out by the gazebo. Zane in the dining room. And I’ll be roaming. But once Rose gets to the solarium, we’ll all close in.”
Turning to me, Cole says, “Once you’ve made the rounds, let everyone see you, that’s when you’ll head to the solarium. Signal us with your comm—remember, just press the button. You don’t have to say anything; we’ll know what you’re doing.”
I glance down at the bracelet they gave me, a simple gold bangle with a tiny button embedded in it. “Okay. And the earrings? I just press one of those, too, right?”
The earrings are also from Blade and Arrow, and they’re a combination tracker and emergency alert system. So if I’m ever in trouble, I can call for help, and the B and A team can track my location.
“Yes. Exactly. And Rose, if you feel uneasy at any time, don’t hesitate. Better a false alarm than you getting hurt.”
Ian’s arm tenses around me, and his face is like stone. He starts to say something, but snaps his mouth shut.
“Do you have any questions, Rose?” Cole looks around our small group again. “Does anyone?”
“One question.” Cash looks at me. “Rose. If someone wants to buy one of the paintings. Ari is acting as the event planner for this, so she’s the one who’ll be asked. What do you want her to tell them?”
“Well.” The thought of selling my favorites doesn’t sit well, especially now that I know how much Ian loves them, but I could use the money…
Ian jumps in. “No. Not tonight.” His eyes move from Cash to me. “You love them. There’s enough on your plate tonight. If you really want to sell them, we’ll have another show later. Okay?”
If it were anyone else, I’d think they were being overbearing. But with Ian… I’m actually glad to pass over that decision to him. At least for now, when I have so much else weighing on me. “Okay.” To Cash, I say, “Just have Maya say they’ve already been reserved. If someone asks.”
He gives me a quick nod. “Got it.”
“Alright. If there’s nothing else?” Cole raises his brows in question. After a moment of silence, he lifts his chin. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Ian cups my cheek and gives me a quick, hard kiss. “Be careful.” A pause, and then, “You can do this. I know you can.”
That’s what I keep reminding myself as I circulate around Cash’s enormous living room, repeating the same story over and over. I can do this.
I can be pleasant, thanking everyone for their concern, reassuring them that the news blew things way out of proportion. That my hand wasn’t horribly injured, it was only a few pulled tendons, and I’m completely fine. A few weeks of rest and my hand is good as new. Oh, the brace? Just being cautious, it can’t hurt with this many people here.
And there are a lot of people in attendance. Locals, people who came to support me, to support Ian’s girlfriend, or just out of curiosity. Then people from the city: art buyers, other artists, and a few reporters who are hoping for an interview.
But twenty minutes in, I’ve got my story down pat, my smile is glued on, and my heart isn’t beating through my chest. Which bodes well for my anxiety, but not so much for the purpose of this show.
Then I see Brand, and my careful calm is shattered. As he approaches me with a slimy smile, all I can think is, he could be the one .
“Rosalyn.” Silver-haired, portly, Phillipe Patek watch ostentatiously gleaming, he reaches his hand out to me. I let him catch my left hand, hiding a shiver of revulsion. “I’m so very glad to see you. And in good health. What a relief.”
“Yes.” I force my lips to curve into a smile. “I’m fine, busy painting, just doing a little show here to celebrate my new home.”
“Ah, yes. Sleepy Hollow.” It’s said like I just announced I moved to the Alaskan Bush. “It is quaint here, isn’t it. Nothing like the city.”
“It isn’t,” I agree, gritting my teeth. “But I like it here.”
“Well. To each their own.” His expression clearly shows he thinks I’m crazy. “I’m excited to look at your work. Maybe purchase something for my collection. I particularly like that one—” He glances at Ian’s favorite, currently hanging above Cash’s fireplace. “It would look lovely in my study.”
“Oh. That one. I’m afraid it’s already been reserved. Maybe another one will appeal to you.”
Or none of them, the creep. I’m not missing how his eyes are glued to my breasts. Or how he’s eyeballing me like something he’d like to buy.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Cash watching us, ready to step in if I need him.
“Well,” I tell Brand. “I should probably check in with the caterer.”
Do we have a caterer? I have no idea.
“Fine,” he huffs. “It was nice seeing you.”
The relief as he walks away is tremendous. I still have no idea if Brand is the one behind my attacks, but regardless, he gives me the creeps.
I decide to head to the dining room—there are more paintings displayed in there—when I hear a terrible, albeit familiar, voice.
“ Rosalyn! I’m just so happy to see you.”
Diem. The same as always. Pitch-black hair, blood-red lips, wearing a skintight black dress with a corset and a slit that goes practically to her hips. She thinks her style looks eclectic and artsy, but it doesn’t. It looks like she’s dressed as a sexy witch for Halloween.
“Oh my goodness, Rosalyn.” She rushes over to me, her face a mask of concern. “I thought you were injured badly. A broken hand. And here you are, painting again. It’s just… incredible.”
“Yes,” I tell her flatly, forcing a smile as fake as her concern. “It certainly is.”