“That’s enough, for now,” he said.
Slowly and deliberately, he swept the dress off her shoulders, pushing it down around her elbows. He toyed with her bra straps, running his fingers beneath them, tugging them slightly to either side until they dropped over her shoulders, clinging to her upper arms.
He traced a fingertip over the top of the lacy cups, sending shivers of delight across Jada’s skin. “Exquisite,” he said.
Jada watched his strong, tanned hands move over her soft, coffee-creamy skin which contrasted with and peeked through the snow white lace. She could have watched him touch her forever.
Ian touched her not only with need; any man could touch with need. But this man, Ian, touched her with the boldness of owning that need, both his and hers. It was a level of control Jada had never experienced. And his control freed her.
In a quick motion, he slipped her bra down further, fully revealing Jada’s breasts. He fell on her then, pushing her backward until she lay flat, rising over her and lowering his head to her breasts, tasting and enjoying her body at will.
She moaned, closed her eyes, ran her hands over his hard chest as best she could with arms still partly restrained by her dress. She sought out his buttons, and quickly opened his shirt so she could glide eager hands over the hard, ridged contours of toned pecs and abs.
Ian’s skin shivered as she touched him, and she was thrilled with her power to please him the way he pleased her.
One of his hands roved down her side, over her hip and played along the edges of her skirt, tickling her upper thigh.
“Oh,” she gasped, as he lightly nibbled her nipple.
He licked and sucked, and played feathery kisses across her sensitive skin. His other hand slipped higher under her skirt, seeking and finding the lacy edge of her panties.
He ran a finger under the stretchy fabric, moving toward her hip, then back in, toward her center, toward the overheated part of her that was aching to be discovered. Then he reversed course, back toward her hip, and back again.
Jada closed her eyes and moaned at the tease.
“Is this what you want?” he whispered, moving his finger under her panties so close to his ultimate goal that she almost couldn’t find the wits to tell him, “Yes, yes that’s what I want.”
And then it didn’t matter what she said.
They heard it at the same time, a rustling coming from the underbrush in the woods. Ian and Jada froze. Several more snapping twigs and crunching dry leaves followed. It sounded like footsteps.
Ian’s head snapped up and his eyes searched the forest while Jada struggled for enough space to try to grab the sides of her dress together.
Ian felt her struggles, mumbled a sorry, then lifted up slightly to help her pull up her bra and yank her dress back together.
“Hell,” he said, dropping down onto her, ensuring that whoever came out of the woods wouldn’t see more than the side of a small woman squished under a big man. No naked flesh to see here, nope. Move along, please.
Jada squinted into the dark forest. She thought she saw movement. They heard more rustling.
From behind a particularly ancient and large tree, out stepped the intruder—a whitetail doe.
“Seriously?” Ian asked, loud enough that he startled the shy creature.
The deer raised her head, sniffed the air, then turned and bounded away, white tail flashing, crashing through deadfall into the forest interior. The sound of her flight faded quickly.
Ian lifted himself off of Jada. “We’re going to forget that ever happened.”
She nodded, then realized she was still clutching her dress together when Ian pulled her hands away.
“It never happened,” Ian said. “Never happened.”
And in a few moments, it felt as if it hadn’t. Once more, Ian was attending to her breasts, she was delighting in his firm chest and stomach, his hand crept ever closer to the point of no return, and then—
More rustling.
“Son of a damned—” Ian sputtered, jerking his head toward the woods again. He dropped quickly onto Jada, shielding her. “If it’s that deer again, so help me, I’ll ...”
A bush at the tree line shook, and a multi-colored furry head poked out between the leaves. It looked straight at Ian and Jada.
Jada blinked, and blinked again. Her initial reaction was to throw a rock to run it off, but she knew she’d never do it. She shot a nervous glance at Ian, who was glowering sourly enough to make a Mongol warrior cower in fear. Oh boy.
It was Ms. Kitty.
The little tabby cat slipped out of the branches and trotted toward the blanket, tail high and proud. She pranced up to Ian, nuzzled against his arm, then lowered her head and rubbed a furry ear against Jada’s cheek. Having marked her ownership of the humans, she turned and sauntered over to the picnic basket, sat beside it, looked at Jada and Ian and meowed loudly.
“If we don’t move, will she go away?” Ian asked out of the corner of his mouth.
“Um, I doubt it,” Jada answered reluctantly. “She wants what’s in that basket.”
“If I give her all the fried chicken, will she go away?”
“You can’t give her the bones. She could choke.”
“Okay, what if I pull all the chicken off the bones and give—”
Ms. Kitty meowed again, impatient.
Ian sighed long and loud, and dropped his forehead onto her chest. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could just keep going.”
“In front of Ms. Kitty?” Jada asked. “Ew, no.”
“I didn’t think so. Would’ve hated myself if I didn’t ask though.” He sighed again, then hoisted himself off her, groaning as if he weighed five hundred pounds.
Jada hid a smile behind her hand.
“I know what you’re doing,” Ian said, sitting up then helping her sit up, too. “You have a little dimple that you’re not quite covering.”
“Oops.” Jada dropped her hand. “I can’t help it.”
Ms. Kitty meowed again.
“Hold your horses,” Ian said, “I’m getting to it.” He pulled the basket closer to himself and opened it.
Jada laughed while she squirmed to get her clothes back in order, Ian watching her efforts with regret etched on his handsome features.
In all, Ian was a good sport about everything, a better sport than Jada felt at first. He gave Ms. Kitty healthy helpings of meat and cheese, and refilled their own champagne flutes with cold bubbly and strawberries.
Ms. Kitty ate until she had her fill then leaned against Ian, licking her paws and grooming her face like the tidy cat she was.
“Lydia’s going to be disgusted when she finds out a cat got past her perimeter. I recall her saying a chipmunk couldn’t do it,” Ian said.
He never had re-buttoned his shirt, and it was hard for Jada to ignore all that bronzed goodness. “Don’t tell her,” Jada said. “I don’t want to turn Ms. Kitty into the enemy.”
“Trust me, no one will make an enemy out of that cat. She’s too friendly. When I was in the kitchen picking up the basket, she was sunning herself on a new window seat that Mrs. Best had Trevor build last night.”
“I bet that’s why Ms. Kitty’s here. She followed the scent of the picnic basket,” Jada said.
Ian scrutinized the small feline. “I don’t suppose she’ll go away after she’s done cleaning herself, will she?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s only that I wouldn’t mind another try at—”
Jada’s phone, which she’d tucked into a side pouch on the picnic basket, began to chime. Ian’s brows lowered.
“Sorry,” Jada said. “I was worried about Marina and afraid something might happen, so I didn’t turn my phone off.” She gave a dismissive shrug. “I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll ignore it.”
The phone chimed again, and again. Jada had to fight hard not to pull out the phone and see if it was Marina. She should have set up ringtones so she’d know without looking.
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Ian looked up at the sky in surrender. “Go on. Answer it.”
“No. It would be rude.”
“It’s not rude. You’re worried. Go on. Please.”
“Thanks.” Jada smiled and leaned over, snatching the phone from the pouch. The number was unknown. She answered.
“Hello?”
A familiar voice said loudly, “Jada? Hello? Jada? Is that you? I don’t think it’s her. Jada?”
“Yes, it’s me, Mom,” Jada said, sending an apologetic glance toward Ian.
Ian, upon hearing the word “Mom,” had an expression that said he understood there was no longer a chance in hell of reclaiming their earlier intimacy. He buttoned up his shirt then relaxed on the blanket, propped on his elbows.
He petted the cat, who curled beside him and settled in for a nap. Jada’s chest tightened at the sight of him. He’d never been more handsome than he was right then.
She should have turned off her stupid, stupid phone.
Chapter Seven
“JADA? ARE YOU THERE? JADA?” her mother asked loudly, making Jada wince.
She looked away from the Adonis reclining on the picnic blanket, the only way she’d be able to maintain a coherent conversation at the moment. “Yes, Mom. I said it’s me. How did you get this number?”
“Marina gave it to me. She said you lost your phone. Is that true? Did you lose your phone? Never mind. I don’t know. Hold on. Your father is driving me crazy asking me questions while I’m talking. What? What do you want me to ask her?”
Jada waited. There was nothing for it. They were always that way, though her mother sounded more keyed up than usual.
“Okay, honey,” her mother said after a lengthy pause. “I’m going to put you on speaker phone so I don’t have to harm your father for interrupting me. Hold on.”