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With a gentleness and patience she did not know she possessed, Sara began to teach Ian the fine art of human touch. Of necessity, they took it slow; the simple brush of her hand as she unbuttoned his shirt had power to send his senses reeling. Sara marveled at the sheer beauty of his powerful physique. And to feel the invincible warrior trembling beneath her touch was more arousing than she would want to admit. Her breathing quickened in concert with his; a fine sheen of sweat soon dotted her brow as well as Ian’s. Sara wondered –a little distractedly – whether the trembling in her own hands was the Witchblade, or her own desire getting the better of her. Whew, slow down, Pezzini!
Gently removing his shirt, Sara stroked Ian’s face, neck, and shoulders with a feather-light touch. His hands and arms received the same careful consideration. As she brushed her palms across the expanse of his chest, Sara found herself inhaling deeply the heady aroma that was Ian’s alone. Mmmm, I didn’t know he smelled this good! I’d have let him closer, sooner… she smiled to herself.
More than once Ian halted her slow explorations with a frantic clutching of her hands. He must be allowed to process each new sensation. The self-control he had been taught all his life was slipping from his grasp, and this frightened him more than anything – or anyone – ever had. His labored breathing betrayed just how much this one woman affected him. Ah, soft, mm… Ian bit down hard on his lower lip. Control, must control… He clenched his hands at his side, hard enough for the nails to cut into his flesh.
Then Sara moved around behind him and he was helpless to stop her without moving away from her altogether – and ending the sweet torment. Her breath tickled his shoulder even as she played her fingertips across the muscles of his back, then down to the hard curve of his hips. A low, primal, keening groan escaped his lips; Sara heard it and paused for a few seconds, enough for Ian to calm somewhat. She chuckled in sympathy for his plight.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she teased softly, leaning forward so that her lips brushed the hot silky flesh of his back even as her hands slid sinuously around his waist. The heat of him burned through her clothes. She paused again when she heard the hiss of air between his teeth.
“I trust you, Sara,” Ian whispered unsteadily. “I’ve just… never felt…” He stopped; there were no words to describe the sensations coursing through him at that moment. And he silently cursed Kenneth Irons for condemning him to a life without the simple pleasure of human touch. Ah, god, but this woman, those hands… Sara continued her slow exploration of his body, her hands now slipping beneath the waistband of his silk pajama pants, sliding them down a fraction. Ian tried unsuccessfully to conceal another throaty groan. She is going to drive me…
Sara pulled herself against him in order to stroke the fronts of his legs, then back up to his abs, his chest… she took his hands in hers and smoothed them, forced them to open to her. Circling him once more, Sara placed his hands on her waist as she teased the hard nubs of his nipples with teeth and tongue. Emboldened by his seeming quiescence, she brought her hands around to explore the hard muscles of his rear. Ian drew in a tortured breath. Self-control, must control…No, I… Ahh, control, control! What’s …
“Sara!”
Ian’s sudden, gasping cry brought her quickly back to reality. Damn, she grunted silently. A glance at his utterly shocked expression gave her pause. He was visibly shaken but trying for bravado; only the slight sway betrayed the depth of his confusion. The damp spot at the front of his silk trousers told her exactly what had happened. She took a step back, nearly speechless with surprise.
“Nottingham. Do you mean to tell me you’ve never…” Damn it, now I’m getting really embarrassed! Sara tightened her lips in determination and tried again. “You’ve never even… climaxed? In your life?” Ian merely bowed his head. “Never. Not even…”
“Once. I was little more than a child at the time.” Please… don’t make me tell you the rest, he silently pleaded. For answer, Sara merely took his hand between hers and waited. Her eyes, steady on his face, were nearly his undoing. He swallowed heavily and reluctantly continued.
“He… beat me.” A muscle in his jaw worked as he retold the memory. “Pleasure without pain did not exist for him. I never lacked self-control from that day on – until today.” His eyes sparkled in the candlelight – Sara couldn’t tell whether with tears or anger. She found herself blinking back tears for the frightened and lonely boy Ian had been.
“Why did you stay?”
“He was the only father I knew, the only home I knew – where else would I have gone?” Reluctantly, Sara had to concede his point. She found herself hating Irons more with each new revelation. Silently she slid her arms around Ian’s waist once more, this time in comfort. Her hands splayed across his taut shoulders. She rested her head against his broad chest; after a moment Ian’s powerful arms surrounded her in return. A mutual sigh passed between them and he gathered her close. She tilted her face up to him then, and at last their lips met.
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