Page 58 of Saving Ian Pope

Horny. “I’m a little tired. I could probably go to bed.” I winked at Ian, and he gave me that crinkly-eyed smile, so I knew I’dreallymade him happy.

A short time later, Jovan drove up to a tall gate with trees on either side. He left the car idling and hopped out to enter a code set on a stone pillar on the outside of the gate. By the time he got back into the sedan, the gate had slid open to reveal a long driveway.

I sat forward in my seat and oohed and ahhed at the beautiful, Georgian-style, brick-façade house that sat at the end of the driveway. Long windows lined up symmetrically on either side of the dark green, paneled front door with fanlights at the top. I breathed out, “It’s gorgeous.”

“The house is great, but I bought it for the grounds. It sits on about five acres. There’s a pond, stables, but I don’t have any horses, and a swimming pool.”

“A swimming pool in England? That’s...optimistic.”

Jovan parked the car and as he handled my suitcases, Ian ushered me into his home. I crept inside on my tiptoes. The modern interior was at odds with the exterior, but the furnishings were light, airy, and tasteful.

With my head tipped back, admiring the vaulted ceilings, I remarked, “You’re like a real adult, living in a real adult house, and it’s so sparkling clean.”

“Your house is an adult house...and I have a housekeeper, Sharon, who manages everything.” He took my hand and pulled me down two steps into, what I’d call a family room. As he nuzzled my neck, he said, “I want to fuck you in every room in this house. Let’s start right here.”

I wriggled out of his grasp. “Ugh! I’m not having sex with you in my condition. I feel gross. I’ve just been on a plane forever in the same clothes, breathing stale air, wrapped up in a blanket. I’d like to take a shower first.”

“Then onto the master suite, m’lady.” He swept me up in his arms and charged toward the stairs. He took them two at a time without breaking a sweat or breathing heavily.

He nudged open the door to a large room, masculine but not heavy or dark. The scent of the room mirrored Ian’s own—woodsy, spicy, and fresh. He set me down on the patterned rug that covered the gleaming hard wood floor.

“This is our room, baby. Bathroom’s that way—don’t be long.”

The look in his smoldering brown eyes almost had me abandoning the idea of a shower and getting down and dirty right there and then, but he gave me a little push and turned and walked out of the bedroom.

***

Twenty minutes later, I stepped from the bathroom into the bedroom on a rush of steam and lilac and tripped to a stop at the sight of a naked Ian splayed out on his bed, one arm behind his head, propping it up, his legs open, one leg bent, his hand stroking his massive erection, and a huge smile on his face.

My toes curled against the floor. “Is that smile for me, cowboy? Or is it for that hand between your legs?”

“Why shucks, lil’ lady. It’s for both.” His Texas accent wasn’t half bad. “So, why don’t you mosey over here, saddle up, and ride ur cowboy.”

That was the best invitation I’d had in a long time. I let my towel drop to the floor with a swish, and sprinted toward the bed, jumping on the foot of it, landing at his feet.

“Whoa, there, missy. I admire your enthusiasm, but you don’t wanna crush the...cojones.”

“Your Spanish is as impressive as your...” I nudged his hand aside and trailed my fingers along his stiff, smooth cock “...Western accent. You’re quite multi-lingual.”

“I’d like to show you how multi-lingual I can be.” He stuck out his tongue and wiggled it. “And your hand feels loads better than mine.”

I leaned forward to kiss his dirty mouth and gasped as I spotted the ink on his chest. He hid the tattoo quickly with his hand.

“You rat.” I smacked his hand. “Remember that time I told you to keep this beautiful expanse of flesh ink-free?” I ran my hands over his pecs, which were even more chiseled since the last time I’d felt him up. Hopefully, he’d been exorcising his sorrows with exercise instead of drowning them with drink.

“Do you wanna see it?” A smile played across his pouty lips.

“I’m gonna see it, eventually, unless you plan to keep a T-shirt on in my presence.”

“Definitely not doing that.” He slowly inched down his hand to reveal curling green vines of ivy.

I covered my mouth as tears pricked the back of my eyeballs. “That’s...beautiful and sweet. When did you get that done?”

“I designed and sketched it myself. I got it done before I knew you were coming back to me. Before that was even a glimmer of hope.” As he traced the tattoo with his finger, he said, “You know how you always sleep next to me, with your head on my shoulder and your hand over my heart.” He tapped the ivy tattoo. “Right here. I missed that so much, I had to put some ink on the spot.”

I slid off his body and cuddled next to him, covering the tattoo with my hand, his heart beating beneath it. He was right. That’s exactly where I’d placed it. “You know what I did to keep you with me?”

“Huh.”

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