The other women he’d been with, and especially his ex, had not only expected five-star luxury, they’d demanded it. Since he was rich enough to give it to them, he always had.
Tatiana, on the other hand, was totally undemanding when it came to anything materialistic. It would be so much easier if she were, if she would ask him for something, anything, other than the one thing it would be impossible for him to give her.
The night before, after making a simple spaghetti dinner, when Tatiana hadn’t been able to stop yawning, he’d tucked her into bed. By the time he was done pulling their damp clothes out of the shower and laying them over various pieces of furniture to dry out, she was asleep.
This morning, with the rain still battering the barn, and the sky outside the window still a dark gray, he didn’t need to check with his pilots to know that they weren’t going anywhere today.
Ian knew he should have been worrying about missing his meeting with Flynn. But when every stolen hour he spent with Tatiana was more precious than the last, all he could think was, What the hell am I going to do when the storm finally ends?
How was he ever going to let her go?
He was holding her so close that he felt her come awake from moment to moment, her heart rate just starting to pick up its pace, her breath coming a little faster, her limbs stretching out one at a time, her toes curling against the top of his foot.
“It wasn’t a dream, was it?” She slowly turned in his arms, putting hers around his neck. “Good morning.”
He had to kiss her once, soft and sweet, to tell her without words that it was the best morning of his entire life. “Good morning.”
“Mmm, you’ve never had a beard when you were kissing me before.” She rubbed her cheek against his. “It’s so rough, so rugged.” She nuzzled against him. “I like it. Kiss me some more, Ian.”
Lord, how he loved the way she talked to him—she never weighed her words or spent so much as one second calculating her gain or his response the way other women did.
He kissed her good and long to please both of them, then showed her how good it felt when his morning beard scratched over the sensitive skin on her neck, her br**sts, her stomach, and the patch of slick, heated flesh between her legs. He took her up once with his mouth, and then again with both his fingers and tongue when he couldn’t get enough of her taste.
She was drowsy liquid heat beneath him by the time he kissed his way back up her luscious curves, and he couldn’t wait to feel her surrounding him, couldn’t think about anything but being inside her again, when she whispered, “I want to touch you, too.”
When she reached down to cup him in her hand, he nearly lost it right then and there as she stroked him.
“You’re so hot, and so hard.” There was wonder in her voice, along with infinite curiosity as she said, “I was dreaming last night of holding you like this. And tasting you.” When he pulsed again in her hand, she made a hungry little sound. “I want so badly to make you feel as good as you just made me.”
When she slid down his body to kiss her way down his torso, it was as close to an out-of-body experience as he’d ever had, the first tentative swipe of her tongue over his erection nearly enough to hurtle him over the edge. So when she went all the way from base to tip the second time, he knew that if he didn’t yank her up inside of the next five seconds, it was all going to be over.
But before he could pull her back up his body, her mouth came fully over him. Oh Lord, it was good. So good that he couldn’t do anything but thread his hands into her hair to pull her closer and push even deeper between her lips.
Once, twice, three times he gave himself over to her before he made himself break free from her incredible mouth and rolled her onto her back on the bed. He reached up to lock her hands around the bed posts, then gripped her hips hard and drove into her, as they came together in a dance of desire that was at once hotter and wilder and yet more tender than ever before.
* * *
An hour later, when they were finally out of bed and finished with their shower, they opened the door to find raincoats, umbrellas, and gumboots outside. Tatiana was impossibly cute in the pink raincoat and matching boots that Tim’s wife had lent her, her hair extra curly in the rain as they stood under the eave of the barn and watched the wind whip through the branches of the Douglas fir and arbutus trees.
“I’m thinking we might as well leave our umbrellas here. The wind will just tear through them otherwise.” She slipped her hand into his and smiled up at him. “Plus, it’ll be easier to hold hands.”
If they’d been anywhere else, in a city crammed with people rather than on a farm in the middle of the wilderness, they couldn’t have held hands without making the covers of the gossip rags. But here, in the middle of a storm so severe that everyone else was staying inside, with the thick fog and rain making it too hard for anyone to get a clear line of sight on them from out of a window, they were free to be together.
Neither of them spoke as they walked down the deserted farm road, but the silence was an easy one. A little more than one week ago, when he’d found her waiting in his office, he could never have imagined any of this. Not only more pleasure than he’d ever known before, but learning that holding Tatiana’s hand could be just as good as making her come.
Or that being with Tatiana, both in bed and out, would feel so right. So easy.
A light through the fog about a half mile away in the direction of town caught their eye and they headed toward it.
“What a gorgeous lighthouse!” Tatiana’s eyes were wide with wonder as they came close enough to see it clearly, the red-roofed lantern room rising from the trees that surrounded it.
“Dylan used to make us visit every lighthouse he could find when we were kids. I’ve always been amazed that they were able to create a light that was bright enough and strong enough to cut through even the darkest, fiercest storms. The light, the strength, the hope,” he found himself saying, “reminds me of you.”
Rain spiked her eyelashes as she turned to face him and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. “I know I promised you I wouldn’t talk about certain things while we’re here.” She moved closer and turned to face him. “But I have to do this.”
She lifted her mouth to his and in her kiss he heard and felt the words of love she’d promised not to say aloud.
What, he wondered when she pulled back, had she heard, and felt, in his kiss?
And was it more, even, than he was ready to admit to himself?