Into You Series: The Complete Collection

22. Ian

CHAPTER 22

IAN

E ver since Nia barreled into that lobby with her ivory cheeks flushed pink and heavy breaths accompanying every intake of air, there’s been some unexplainable tension between us.

I’ve felt this type of shift in a relationship before, but I must be misinterpreting my pseudo-Spidey-sense because this feeling is one that comes at the conclusion of a night of close contact and suggestive talk. I’ve been on dates before. I’ve had one-night stands. This spark is the electricity of a woman longing to sleep with me—except Nia just isn’t that kind of woman.

Yes, I must be misinterpreting.

I lead Grant and Harry into my hotel room and let them lumber to the bed. It’s just barely able to fit the both of them, and I’m realizing now that my bunk may be in the bathtub tonight. Nia is quiet when I glance over to her, but when our eyes meet, that familiar sensation washes over me once more.

Her brown doe eyes are large and dilated. Her bottom lip is pouting as if she’s resisting the urge to let it slip into her mouth. Her fingers run through her hair to move it to rest behind her ear.

My breathing quickens and I try to mask my sharp inhalation as blood rushes downward. She’s so damn sexy, and she probably doesn’t even know it. I’m familiar with harsh, demanding, controlling Nia. I’ve never seen this timid version of her. I want to take it all in.

The men on the bed are already passed out on their sides. Harry exhales small breaths of air, but Grant’s obnoxious snoring directly oppose him like he’s in competition with his brother. Even in sleep, he needs to be the alpha.

Slowly walking over, I wiggle a pillow out from under them and stuff it under my arm. I nod toward the bathroom and Nia does as I intended, tiptoeing in.

I’d be an idiot to imagine this will lead to anything. It would almost be unfair to the rest of the world if the universe granted me this one wish. Plus, I’m not pushing it. She doesn’t want me.

I shut the door behind us, immediately tossing the pillow into the tub.

“Who says this isn’t a resort?” I say, grinning from ear to ear.

“Are we sharing that?” she asks, pointing to the bathtub with the lone pillow slumping against the side.

“What? Do you think I’m a monster? I always offer pillows to the ladies.”

I step one leg into the tub and lower the rest of myself in, stopping midway to pick up the pillow and toss it to the other end. Nia makes her way in as well with a less graceful motion. I instinctively reach for her forearm to steady her, but she doesn’t need it. The reaction earns me a smile, though, and my chest is like a tiny bonfire igniting and popping embers through my limbs.

“Nice to know you’re such a gentleman with bedding,” she says, keeping her voice low.

“Are you imagining me in bed?”

She rolls her eyes, but a smile still peeks through. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re blushing,” I point out. She wasn’t, but now her face flushes a bright red.

“Sometimes you say things that offend me.”

“Oh really?” My jaw drops in mock surprise. “I had no idea.”

“Let’s count that as one of my answers for our twenty questions game.”

“But I didn’t ask a question.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I shift in place, trying to wiggle into a more comfortable position, but it’s impossible given both my height and how uncomfortable this situation is. My long legs, though bent at the knee, still reach the opposite end of the tub. Nia settles between my shoes, and we stare at one another—yet another pause filled with what feels like so many unsaid things.

“Okay, twenty questions then,” I say. “Your turn.”

She squints, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, humming softly. “Hmm,” she muses. “Tell me your deepest, darkest secret.”

“Oh, are we going there?”

“We’re going there,” she says with a devilish grin I don’t think she’s ever thrown my direction, nor would I have imagined her wearing it around me in my lifetime. “Spill, Ian.”

I want to admire her smile more, but my gut clenches at the question.

Some people may struggle when asked their “deepest, darkest secret” because their life has been so awesome and uneventful, while others may instantly think of an exact event that crushed their na?ve excitement about the world. I am one of the latter.

Thoughts of a car barreling toward me, my friend beside me with wide eyes and a mouth ready to scream, glass flying everywhere…then nothing, only the blinding lights of the hospital.

I gulp and let my finger rub against the lip of the tub. I’m desperate to have Nia know me for who I am, and I’ve come close to telling her before, so what am I scared of?

“Nah.”

“You said the other night you would tell me.” Her eyebrow lifts and my stomach drops.

How long have I waited to see her look at me like that?

I take the plunge.

“I told you about my car wreck.” She nods. I’m surprised she fully remembers it after her night of drunken debauchery. I long to relive our other intimate, sexier conversations, but I’m now bound to this type of intimacy instead. “I survived. My friend didn’t.”

There’s a pause between us, but Nia doesn’t gasp or pet my arm or even ask if I’m okay. She stares at me with a hard expression as if waiting for me to continue. There’s nothing she can do to change my past and she’s not trying to apologize for it—and this is why I like her.

“I was drunk,” I continue. “He was kind of tipsy too, but I…I should have known he wasn’t fit to drive, you know? They say it happens in slow motion, but it really doesn’t. It’s like lightning then thunder. There was the initial crash, then all I remember is seeing those little pieces of glass flying around. You know when you see lint in sunshine? Or maybe it was dust from the airbag. I don’t know. The next thing I remember is waking up and being told I’d been in a medically induced coma for a month and I no longer had a car or a friend.”

She leans forward, hand brushing up my calf, to my knee, and then to my thigh. Her fingers run over my wrinkled flesh—the cinched skin peeking out from under my shorts. It feels fitting that Nia is the one I’m choosing to tell, and it’s comforting that she isn’t just hearing; she’s understanding.

“Is that how you got this?” Her fingers stroke the healed, grotesque wound, her tone soft and barely audible. I sit up, and the porcelain squeaks and echoes beneath my shoes. My head hovers near hers and when we make eye contact, I nod in response. Her hand leaves my thigh and before I can miss her touch, her finger taps the scar over my eyebrow. “And this?”

I chuckle. “Oh, no, that’s just a guy who punched me in a bar fight.”

The air in the room settles instantly and we’re both laughing. She puts her finger to her lips and slaps my shoulder to shush me.

“You got mouthy?” she whispers.

“Of course I did.”

“I’m not even surprised.”

I notice that, within the past minute, Nia has scooted in toward the center of the tub. She still sits between my legs, just a foot or so away from where I’m trying to hide the growing pressure against my zipper.

“My turn,” I say, loud enough for her to hear but trying to be considerate of the sleeping drunks on the other side of the door.

“Sure, go for it.”

“What’s up with Grant?”

“What isn’t up with Grant?” She exhales with a light laugh. “He’s a drunk and apparently into drugs now. He’s a mess.” There’s a pause and she lets out another sigh. “But, thanks for being nice to him. And to Harry.”

“They’re good guys.” I shrug.

“Don’t let what I’m about to say go to your head,” she says, “but I don’t think you’re that bad of a guy.”

“I find it offensive that you had to give a disclaimer before complimenting me.” I pause. “What happened with us?”

“What do you mean?”

“We were kind of friends and then…nothing. For my last two years I worked at Treasuries—what happened?”

She avoids eye contact, breathing in and out. “I don’t know.”

It’s uncomfortable, and I get the sense that tonight will not be the night I get an honest answer from her. “It’s because you realized how damn cute I am, isn’t it?”

A restrained smile beams on her face. “No.”

“You took a bit to answer that.”

She says nothing, looking at me, but tracing the outside of my leg.

My hands wander to her ankles, stroking her soft skin and letting my fingers explore her bone. I test the waters more and slide up to her calves, caressing the curves of them, tightening my grip slightly to get my fill of her. I reach her knees then, trying the boldness once more, my hands resting on the outsides of her thighs.

I wait for the moment she’ll stop me. I’m anticipating a snarky remark and blatant offense. However, she doesn’t move an inch. Every muscle in my body, from my jaw to my feet, tenses. Her eyes focus on some spot behind me. Maybe she’s contemplating her escape through the door, but Nia will be the first person to voice her opinion, and I wonder if she’s letting me in.

I try not to breathe heavy and seem like a desperate man longing for more, but it’s impossible. I’ve spent years craving to know how her skin would feel, questioning what she tastes like, imagining what my name would sound like on her lips as she moans with pleasure.

Her eyes dart to mine. I expect she was constructing a pros and cons list in her head, adding checkmarks and crossing out qualities of mine. In the end, once she’s made her decision, Nia doesn’t back out. She’s either in or she’s not.

“Do you want me?” she asks. It lacks any hint of seduction or desire. It’s all business, and if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s negotiation.

“Yes,” I say with a curt nod.

“How bad?”

“If you think you’ve been offended before, you have no idea how offensive I can truly be.”

At these words, her hands grip the nape of my neck and she jerks me toward her. Our mouths smash together, and I let out an involuntary groan. Her lips are full and perfect as we move against each other. I run my hands through her hair, taking in her scent of coconut hotel shampoo and the beach air that’s cemented itself onto her.

I use my other hand to grip her waist and tug her toward me. She arches her back and pushes into me, inhaling sharply before taking a fistful of my hair. I shouldn’t be surprised Nia dominates the situation. She only takes action on things she can control. Unfortunately for her, so do I.

As her hands run over my jaw and drop to my collar, I’m already clutching her hemline and pulling her shirt over her shoulders. In the second we part so she can toss the clothing aside, I trace my fingers just below her bra, down to her waist, settling on her pelvic bones. It’s both everything and nothing I imagined. She’s lithe and surprisingly strong. Her shorts hit just below her belly button and the length rides up her thighs, bunched from how we’ve maneuvered closer together.

Before she can drag me to her once more, I lower down to kiss her neck, her collarbone, and the peak of her chest. I nip at the thin, lacy bra, and her shaky breath hitches. I drag the other side down then switch sides to kiss around her nipple. I tease her and wait for I don’t even know what. Begging? A moan? I will take any sign she wants me just as much as I need her, and at that moment she runs her fingers through my curls and pulls me closer, demanding action. I have to suppress my groan of satisfaction as I roll my tongue over her erect nipples. I swirl around, taking her in and nipping once more. Her head falls back and a mix between an exhalation and a whimper leaves her mouth. Knowing I can elicit such a submissive reaction drives me forward, and I’m determined to hear more.

She leans forward again and pushes against my arms so I’m sitting up.

“Hey, I was doing something there,” I whisper, attempting to lean back toward her chest.

“Let’s go back to my room,” she demands.

Well, fuck me.

I nod, rising out of the bathtub without a second thought.

We tiptoe through the door, looking back to make sure her brothers remain sound asleep. They’re still in a snoring competition and probably wouldn’t wake up even if a car busted through the window right now.

I close the door behind me as she pulls out her own keycard and scans it, granting us entry into her room.

Before I can even reach for the lights, we’re already at each other again. I’m kissing her neck and she’s running her hands down my chest. I’m trying to keep my cool while also hoping to God she isn’t regretting this.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, she reaches her hands downward and slides the button on my shorts through its hole. A sharp moan exits my throat and I lift an eyebrow. “You like being in control, don’t you?”

She ignores my comment, all the while tugging down my zipper and spreading her palm against my length. I shift to press it into her as she rubs the base, lightly cupping my balls then releasing them. It’s so fucking hot and bold that I can barely get any words out.

“Goddamn,” I say, voice straining as she pulls the band on my underwear down and holds my penis, pumping her hand up and down and using her thumb to circle the head every time she reaches the top. I wonder where she learned to please a man so well. I’m used to passive women who remain shy and take serious reassuring just to allow themselves to be seen naked. Nia is different. She takes what she wants with no apologies.

She lowers herself down to her knees, allowing her tongue to meet the head of my cock.

“I want to make you come,” I say. I feel her smile against me. I love how she seems eager to please. I love the power struggle and how she’s relentless in her efforts, but this is what I’ve been wanting for years. I want to hear her moan and see her fall apart beneath my touch. She might like to be in control now, but I will teach her what it means to beg.