24. Sadie
24
SADIE
“I failed my sister.” I realize I said the last words out loud and wish I could swallow them back. They expose me and make me feel too vulnerable.
Ian doesn’t respond, but takes the phone from my hand, holds it in front of my face to unlock the home screen, and then opens the door to our room and ushers me inside.
“I’m sorry,” I say automatically. “I’m sorry for bringing you into this.”
“Sweetheart, stop.” He deposits our bags on the floor, then wraps his big arms around me. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, especially not the behavior of people you have no control over.”
He rests his chin on my head, and it feels natural to tuck into the crook of his neck. “For the record, I’m the one who should apologize—in advance. There’s a decent chance that tomorrow I’m going to shove a five iron up your soon-to-be-brother-in-law’s tight ass.”
I laugh against the soft fabric of his shirt, breathing him in. The mix of his soap and the heady male scent that’s unique to Ian relaxes me, and at the same time, it makes my head spin.
“If I thought it would make him a better man, I’d beg you to. Although, based on Bradley’s reaction to meeting The Playmaker in person, he’d probably have that golf club removed, then hang it on his wall like a trophy.”
Ian’s laugh rumbles deep in his chest, and I snuggle in tighter. There’s something powerful about feeling like I’m not alone, even though I know the reason he’s here is because of our fake dating deal.
He smooths his rough hands over my hair, then tips up my head and kisses me. It’s gentle and chaste as kisses go, but my body hums to life.
“Thank you,” I tell him as he rests his forehead against mine. “You want to take a nap, so I’ll be quiet and let you?—”
He adjusts his hold on my face so that his thumb is covering my mouth, quieting me.
“When did I say anything about taking a nap?”
“You said you wanted to rest, and I figured you had a late night, so…”
“I said I wanted to come up to the room and relax with you. To be clear, by relax, I mean naked with you screaming my name. Quietly, of course, because we don’t need you to get a reputation among the wedding guests. Or do we?”
I choke out a laugh, “A reputation? Me? As if.”
“As a screamer,” he clarifies.
Oh, well. Wouldn’t that be something? “But I’m not a screamer.”
He steps back and crosses his arms over his chest. I could melt into a puddle of lusty goo at the intensity of his gaze.
“I take that as a personal challenge.” He cocks his head and offers a half smile. “You have to know I’m dying to be with you again.”
I shake my head, which feels fuzzy, like it’s filled with cotton candy. “I thought after you realized our first time was my first time, you wouldn’t be interested again.”
“Are you joking?” His laugh is rough. “Sadie, look at me. I mean, look south.” He uncrosses his arms and cups the obvious erection straining against the front of his cargo shorts. “Just the thought of a couple of hours alone with you in this hotel room has me harder than the damn Rock of Gibraltar, whatever that is.”
I jab a hand in the air, momentarily distracted because I know this one. “It’s a limestone monolithic promontory on a peninsula between the United Kingdom and Spain.” I’m talking way too fast and not making any sense, but it’s the nerves, and I can’t seem to shut up. “I got into monkeys one semester as part of my pre-vet undergrad classes, and Gibraltar is home to over three-hundred Barbary macaques. Betcha didn’t know that.”
Ian shakes his head, his grin widening. “A guy’s got it bad when hearing his woman talk geography and monkeys and shit revs his engine.”
“I rev your engine?” I ask instead of blurting something about being his woman and how that plays into our future after this weekend.
“Like a fucking Ferrari.” He takes a step closer to me. “I need a good, long rest , sweetheart. So can we move onto the non-nap portion of the afternoon?”
“Yes, please,” I whisper. I may not be experienced, but I’m also not a fool.
He lifts the fitted white T-shirt I’m wearing up and over my head, then reaches around and deftly flicks open the clasp of my bra. Shivers trail along my spine as he drags it down over my shoulders, then cups my breasts in his hands.
“I dream about you like this. I dream about you every night, Sadie. I swear I’m like a damn fifteen-year-old boy taking myself in hand for some relief, but it isn’t the same.”
My nipples pebble as his thumbs stroke over them, and shimmering heat pools at my center.
“There’s that flush,” he says as he bends forward and draws his tongue along the base of my throat. “Are you wet for me already, girl?”
I whimper as an answer, and that seems to be exactly what he’s looking for because he goes to his knees in front of me and yanks my cotton shorts and panties down over my hips.
Then his finger is inside me, exactly where I want him to be.
“More,” I command, even though I’m half afraid my own knees will give way. Waves of pleasure roll through me, and I give myself over to them.
He adds another finger, then runs his tongue along my folds until he sucks my clit into his mouth. Crying out from the exquisite sensation and shock of it—the sparks that flicker through me— I welcome the zing of pain, which only adds to my desire. I just don’t know how I’m going to take much more of this and not fall to the ground.
As if he’s aware of how close I am to losing control, Ian stands and lifts me into his arms. It’s only a couple of steps to the bed. He draws back the covers then lays me on the crisp white sheets—gently, like taking care of me is the most important thing. He’s certainly a man on a mission and doesn’t waste any time spreading my knees apart and putting his mouth on me again.
I don’t know what Ian Barlowe majored in at college, but meeting a woman’s needs must have been part of the curriculum.
I’m moaning now, gasping for air as he licks and sucks, his tongue drawing lazy circles around my sensitive center. Letting instinct take over, I reach down and roll one of my nipples between two fingers. My whole body is a live wire, and touch is the only way to ground myself. His touch or mine, I don’t care.
“Yeah, sweetheart, that’s the way. Touch yourself for me.” His breath is hot against me, and I can’t do anything but obey.
He takes me to the edge for what feels like hours, until I’m on the verge of screaming, begging, doing whatever it takes for Ian to give me my release. I can’t believe I’m letting him—anyone—have this kind of control. I’m the one who takes care of people, but being on the receiving end of his sexual attention is a different kind of power.
It’s a choice to let go, to trust and believe that I deserve this.
Ian’s fingers pump inside me, an unwavering rhythm that builds until I cry out as the first wave hits me. To be honest, you might even call it a scream. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me until I finally return to earth…and Ian.
While my body settles, he climbs off the bed, shucking his clothes in efficient movements. I’m blissed out but still want more. I want him, the two of us. Together.
I sit up and take the condom packet out of his hands, which seem to be trembling slightly. “God, you make me crazy,” he says as he climbs back onto the bed.
I want to make him crazy. I want him to feel what I do. I want everything he’ll give me. Mostly, I want it to last longer.
But wanting and wishing are for little girls. I’m a grown woman who’s going to enjoy this moment and not worry about the future.
He’s kneeling over me, but I sit up and push him to his back on the sheets. He lets me, his blue eyes hooded as I reach for his erection. I wrap my hand around the thick shaft, stroking once, then trace the pad of my thumb along the pre-cum at his tip.
He moans and my body responds with its version of a hallelujah chorus. I sheathe his impressive length, then straddle him slowly, lowering myself to take every inch of him. I’m tight, and although the pain isn’t sharp like the first time, it takes a few moments for my body to adjust.
A muscle ticks in Ian’s jaw and sweat beads on his forehead. “Take your time,” he tells me, his voice gruff. “I could stay here all weekend.”
I lean down and run my fingers up his defined abs and over his chest, then start to move. My body knows more than my brain about what feels good, so I let it be the guide.
Ian threads his fingers through my hair and lifts enough to claim my mouth. I taste my desire and his as the kiss deepens, and I move faster, sliding over him as his hands inch down my back.
His nails graze my sensitive skin, and I arch forward when he squeezes my ass. He takes the opportunity to draw one of my taut nipples into his mouth, swirling the tight peak as I ride him faster.
He’s urging me toward release, but I’m unprepared for the power of it. Sparks seem to rain over me in a dazzling downpour. I shatter in his arms, and Ian flips me to my back like I weigh nothing, then drives into me.
I wrap my legs around his hips, wanting him deeper, reveling in his frenzied movements like I really am making him crazy. Like he’s as affected by our coupling as I am.
A low growl hums in the back of his throat as he finds his own release. This is mind-blowing sex, but also something more—a level of trust I didn’t think I’d ever experience. And it means the world to me. He means the world to me.
His hands grip the sides of my head as if he needs me to ground him, and I wrap my arms tight around his neck and kiss his heated skin. It tastes like salt and sweat, and I’m definitely ruined for any other man.
Realization dawns in a jarring flash, like a crack of thunder close enough to make the ground shake beneath me. Because I’m truly, madly in love with Ian Barlowe, my fake boyfriend.
The one thing I knew better than to do. The one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t do.
For better or worse, there are no takebacks. As impossible as it felt at the beginning to convince people our fake relationship was real, I’m going to have to work just as hard to convince my heart that these very real feelings don’t matter. It won’t be easy to put them aside when this ends.
Ian doesn’t seem in any hurry to disentangle himself from me, and I blink back the tears that spring to my eyes at the thought of letting him go. Not just now, but when I have to say goodbye to this part of our relationship.
Can we still be friends? Before this summer, I would have said yes. I was so good at hiding and putting aside what I truly wanted to make everybody around me more comfortable. Can I go back to the person I was before?
I don’t know that I want to.
Eventually, he pulls out and walks to the bathroom. I watch him go, admiring the view. But as perfect as his body is, that’s not what draws me to Ian the most.
It’s him and how amazing he is. It’s how he makes me feel about myself—like I matter. I spent too long not mattering in my own life.
As the bathroom door clicks shut behind him, I quickly jump up and throw on a pair of shorts, my bra, and T-shirt. I’m too exposed and vulnerable in this moment to stay. We’ve already established that I have zero poker face, and I don’t want to think about what Ian will read in my eyes if I don’t get out of here. Now.
The bathroom door opens, and he frowns as his gaze rakes over me.
“Going somewhere?” he asks as I grab a pair of sneakers from my duffel bag.
“I’m going to find Piper and Max,” I tell him, my voice casual, like I’m not running away.
“Sadie.”
I hear the disappointment in his voice but pretend I don’t. Pretending is second nature for me, so this shouldn’t feel as hard as it does.
“We’re good, Playmaker.” I lift up on my toes and press a kiss on his cheek. “I just want to make sure my sis is, too. She needs me this weekend.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but nods instead. Because he’s a good guy at his core. Good and kind and sexy as sin. And definitely more than I deserve.
“I’ll be back before dinner,” I promise, still willing myself not to cry.
He doesn’t stop me when I slip out of the room, even though the part of my heart I’ve locked away for too long wishes he would. But wishing and wanting aren’t for me.