Breathing Space

When Ian got to Sara's door at 8:00 Sunday morning, he found an envelope taped there with his name on it. He felt a quick surge of panic hit the pit of his stomach. He set the large box, garment bag, and overnight bag that he carried on the hall floor, and took the envelope off the door. He carefully opened it, pulled out the single sheet of paper, and read:

Hi Baby,
I worked yesterday so that I could take off Monday to spend it with you. Jake and I caught a case late and I didn't get to bed until after 3:00 A.M. I've got to sleep in a little or I'll be a mess tomorrow. Can you just let yourself in by your old route? It's open. Come join me in bed. I can't wait to see you.
Love,
Sara

Ian took a deep breath and let his stomach settle back down. He'd been afraid that something had happened and their plans were off. He didn't know what he would have done if he couldn't spend these two days with her. Although he knew he was supposed to come in through the unlocked window, it was just simpler to pick the lock on the front door. Once inside the loft, Ian hung the garment bag in the closet and slipped off his boots so that he could move more quietly. He dropped the overnight bag on the sofa and headed barefoot to the kitchen. He made a big pot of coffee and opened the box of pastries that he'd brought from a wonderful bakery in Soho. He poured Sara a big mug of coffee and put some of the pastries on a plate.

Moving to the bed, he set Sara's coffee and the pastries on the bedside table, then sat carefully on the edge of the bed. Sara was curled on her side facing him with her hair tumbled across most of her face. He reached down and very gently pushed her hair back off her face. Ian felt such a wave of love for her run through him that, for a moment, he couldn't breathe. He started to pull his sweater over his head when he felt her hand on his arm. He pulled the sweater back down and met her sleepy green eyes. Stroking her hair, he said, "Sorry, love, I didn't want to wake you. I tried to be quiet."

Sara sat up, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder, "S'okay," she said, yawning, "I…," her head came up like a fox scenting hounds, "Do I smell fresh coffee?" Ian smiled, "Rule number two for being your significant other – get your first cup of coffee to you quickly." Sara blindly reached out a hand and said, "Give." Ian put the steaming mug in her hand, saying, "Careful, it's hot." She took a sip of coffee and said, "Ummm, good," then peered at him over the top of the mug. "So are you," she continued. Ian looked confused, "So am I what?" he asked. The mug tipped dangerously as she leaned in to lick the tip of his ear and whisper, "Hot." He shut his eyes and said, "Oh."

When her tongue had worked its way down to a sensitive spot just under his chin and his breathing had started to hitch, she said, "You really smell good too. Kind of like cinnamon and…do I smell pastries?" she asked, raising her head and looking around. Ian knew that he couldn't compete with that, "From that bakery you like in Soho," he said. Sara squealed and grabbed a luscious cheese Danish from the plate on the bedside table. "Ummmmm," she sighed, mouth full, "I could get used to waking up like this." He smiled, thrilled to have pleased her. "Okay, one more," she said, "Then, I want to unwrap my present." Ian looked startled, "What present is that?" he asked cautiously. She looked at him with only slightly less desire than she'd lavished on the Danish, "You," she said. His smile widened and he leaned in to kiss her sugary lips, "I'm yours," he whispered, "Do whatever you want with me." She put down her coffee mug and licked her fingers while pornographic images flashed in succession through her head.

Sara slid her hands up under his sweater to stroke his warm, muscled chest and returned her lips to that sensitive spot on his throat. He shut his eyes and made a soft, purring sound. After a few moments, she wanted to touch more of him so she pushed the sweater up over his head. It fell to the floor beside the bed. Sara raised her lips to his mouth and Ian tumbled them both back down on the bed, his arms tightening around her. They kissed passionately, tangling tongues, until they finally had to pull apart to catch their breath. Sara rolled Ian over so that he was beneath her and started moving down his body leaving hot kisses in her wake. He buried one hand in her hair. When she reached his stomach, she undid his pants. She grabbed the waistband and looked up at him, "Lift up," she said. He arched his body off the bed and she pulled both pairs of his pants down and off. They fell to the floor to keep his sweater company.

She pressed little kisses along the line of hair that stretched from his belly button on down. Ian's breath was now getting ragged. Sara ran the tip of her tongue slowly up and around his erection just to see what he'd do. He groaned, deep and low, and his whole body arched as if she'd shot a bolt of electricity through him. When he could manage it, he raised his head to look down at her, eyes huge. "Sara?" he whispered weakly, as if he couldn't believe what she was doing to him. She looked into his wide golden brown eyes and slipped her lips around him, sucking and licking. Ian clutched the bed sheets until his knuckles turned white. He was making soft sounds in the back of his throat and fighting desperately to keep his hips from thrusting against her. Suddenly, his whole body went rigid and he moaned, "Sara, I can't…" right before he completely lost control.

Sara slid back up the bed to look at him. She pushed his damp hair off his forehead but he didn't stir. He was so limp and still that he might have been dead. Finally, his dazed eyes opened and a little residual shudder ran through his body. He was still grasping the sheets for dear life and Sara wondered if she'd have to pry his fingers loose one by one. She leaned over to press a soft kiss on his lips and said, "You going to make it there, ace?" His eyes fluttered shut again and he whispered, "What did you do to me?" in a low, shaky voice. She smiled, "There are lots of different names for it, none of them important. Did you like it?" "I don't think I'll ever move again," he whispered, "Just let me die right here." Sara laughed, "I guess you liked it. Don't go away. I'm going to go get another cup of coffee. Then, we can play some more."

By the time she came back to bed with a fresh mug of coffee, Ian was sitting up again. "How come you're still dressed?" he asked. She grinned, "Because I'm not easy like some people on this bed." He grinned back at her, "Easy, huh. I'm the one that brought hope back to unicorns, remember?" Sara laughe"Oh,"Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about that. You've become such a wanton it's hard to remember that all this is still pretty new to you," she replied, taking a big sip of coffee. "Give me that," he said, taking the mug out of her hand and putting it on the table, "You've got way too many clothes on." He pulled her t-shirt over her head and cuddled her close. "Yummm," she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him, "You almost taste better than my coffee." He laughed and rolled her down on to the bed, "I'm going to make you pay for all this abuse you're heaping on me. I'm going to make you beg." Sara stuck her tongue out at him, "You're going to try and you're going to fail, big boy."

Ian gave her right breast his undivided attention; kissing, sucking, and nipping until Sara was squirming against him. Then, he moved to her left breast. She was now finding it very difficult to stay still and she just managed to stifle a cry as he rolled her nipple between his tongue and teeth. "I won't give him that satisfaction," she thought. Now, those clever fingers of his had moved down between her legs to tease her and rational thought was rapidly slipping away. Sara realized that she was panting. And then she was crying out as an orgasm ripped through her. She shut her eyes for a moment to try to regain her equilibrium when she found that he'd started up again and that his tongue had replaced his fingers. She had a couple of seconds to be startled before she felt her body gathering itself to explode in another wrenching orgasm. He let her catch her breath and then he started again, going slower this time – he was learning to listen to the sounds that she made so that he could draw the pleasure out for her and he was getting very, very good at it.

Sara gave up. She knew that she wasn't going to win this particular duel because right now she just wanted him too damn much. "Come here, Ian," she whispered hoarsely, adding, "Please." He raised his head and smiled slowly before he moved back up the bed to her side. Sara pushed him none too gently on his back, moved astride him, and drew him within her. Sara linked her hands with his, pushing them up over his head and holding them there. She rocked hard against him, moving faster and faster, setting her own rhythm. Ian's eyes were shut tight so he could hold on to his own control while he her her take him where she wanted to go. Sara felt the momentum building and she leaned forward and whispered to him, "Open your eyes." His eyes flew wide, tiger golden in the morning light, and met hers just as every muscle inside her seemed to spasm and he came with her.

Sara lay draped across him like a second skin and Ian wasn't moving at all. "Wow," he said softly, his voice vibrating under her ear. Sara laughed weakly, "That about covers it," she responded, her lips against his chest. "I don't think I can move," she added. "Don't worry about it," he whispered, "I'll just carry you to the wedding like this." Sara sat bolt upright and gasped, "Oh, my god, the wedding." Ian winced because they were still locked together. She immediately changed that by pulling away from him and rolling off the bed. "Where's the clock? What time is it?" she cried.

He turned carefully to the bedside table and picked up his watch from where she'd left it. He checked the time and said, "Calm down, Sara. It's only 11:30. We have plenty of time." She came back to sit on the bed, grabbing the mug to sip her now lukewarm coffee. She glared at him playfully, "You scared me," she growled. He reached over to tenderly brush the hair back from her face, "I'm sorry. I'm a bad, evil man." She put down the mug and moved back into his arms to be held. "No, you're not," she replied. "And," she added, "You're becoming an absolutely amazing lover." He glanced at her quickly to see whether she was teasing him. When he saw that she meant it, he was at first too stunned to speak. Then, he nuzzled her hair and whispered, "Thank you. An absolutely amazing woman taught me everything I know."

Sara sighed. "I hate to move," she said, "But I've got to get a shower. Come take one with me?" He chuckled, "If I do that, we'll never get out of here on time. You kwhatwhat's going to happen if we're in the shower together with all that soap and warm water." She punched his shoulder, "C'mon. Exercise a little restraint. We should be able to wash without jumping each other's bones." As it turned out, they were able to do just that.

Once clean, they turned their attention to getting dressed. As a changepacepace, Sara had bought a deep forest green dress that clung to her curves and reached mid-calf. She'd been able to find high-heels in the exact shade to match. She pulled her hair back into a chignon at the nape of her neck and put tiny diamond studs in her ears. When she went back into the main room from the bathroom, Ian glanced up from putting on his shoes and froze, catching his breath. Sara stopped and fidgeted nervously, "Well, say shinghing. Is it that bad?" His breath came back in a long sigh, "You're breathtaking," he said. Now, she took a good look at him. He wore a black suit that must have cost a fortune because the cut was elegant. With it he wore a crisp white shirt and a black tie with tiny gold dots. His hair was pulled back tight and held with a black band. She went to him and straightened his already perfectly aligned tie. She'd just wanted to touch him. "You're looking awfully good yourself," she said, "Vicki's going to be disappointed that you don't have a eye patch though." Ian looked confused and said, "What?" Sara just smiled. "You'll see," she said.

As she went to get her coat, Ian pulled a small, beautifully wrapped package from his pocket. When she turned back to him, he held it out to her and said, shyly, "This is for you." Sara looked at him for a moment, then took the package and ripped it open. A blue velvet jewelry box was inside. She looked up at him and then opened the box. Inside was a small diamond in thapehape of a heart at the end of a thin gold chain. Sara gasped and lifted it out of the box with trembling fingers. "Do you like it?" he asked nervously. She was in his arms in a second, planting kisses all over his face. He smiled, "I guess you do." "I love it, Ian," she said, "Put it on me?" He took the necklace from her as she turned away. He put it around her neck and fastened the clasp at the back. She turned to face him again. He reached out to cup the stone in his palm, "It looks beautiful on you, Sara. But you put the diamond to shame." She slid her arms around his neck and moved tight against him to kiss him deeply. When she finally pulled back, she whispered, "Thank you." He leaned down to just brush his lips over hers once more, "You're welcome." He slipped her coat over her shoulders and they headed out to take on the Woos.

They got to the church with 20 minutes to spare to find that Vicki had saved them seats next to her. As soon as Sara was beside her in the pew, Vicki leaned in to whisper, "I didn't see him this close before. Those eye lashes can’t be real." Sara glanced at Ian who sat on the other side of her. He was taking in everything, obviously fascinated by the new experience. "He's like a little kid on Christmas morning," she thought before turning back to Vicki. "It's all real, Vick," she whispered, "Every blessed part." "Thanks a lot," Vicki grumbled, as the music started, "That's really going to keep my mind focused on the ceremony, isn't it?" Sara smiled as she felt Ian's fingers slide over to link with hers and hold tight.

The ceremony was beautiful. Sara embarrassed herself by crying when her friend Rosa walked down the aisle in a traditional flowing white gown. She'd known Rosa almost as long as she'd known Danny, and she, Rosa, and Vicki had shared monthly "girl nights" for the last couple of years. As she tried to furtively wipe the tears from her cheeks, she felt a handkerchief gently being slipped into her hand. She squeezed his fingers and raised the clean, white linen to her cheeks. Then, the ceremony was over and Vicki was excusing herself to find a ladies room.

Sara looked at Ian and said, "Okay, time to go outside and throw some rice." He blinked and said, "Fertility symbolism." She laughed and responded, "Tell me that you didn’tt sat say that." He blushed and mumbled, "I'm sorry. I'm nervous and I'm terrified that I'll embarrass you in front of your friends. I'm just not good at this sort of thing, Sara." "You'll do fine," she said, stroking his arm possessively. She'd just noticed a redhead across the aisle whose eyes were raking over Ian from top to bottom. As they walked toward the receiving line, Ian asked, "Tell me again why Dr. Po thinks I'm a pirate?" "No, no," Sara replied, "She doesn't think you're a pirate. She thinks that you…" They'd reached the first outstretched hand from a family member. She added, "Never mind. I'll tell you in the car."

When they got down the line to Danny, who was the Best Man, his eyes narrowed briefly as they focused on Nottingham. Then, he turned to Sara with a big smile, "Hey, partner," he said, "You're looking good." Sara smiled back, "Thanks, partner. It was a beautiful wedding." He leaned down and whispered, "Tell that to Rosa. She thinks she looked fat in the gown. We all kept telling her she looked gorgeous but you know how it is. Maybe she'll listen to you." As Sara passed him, Danny grabbed Ian's outstretched hand and nodded, shaking it. Ian nodded and shook back. Neither man said a word. Further down the line, Sara hugged Rosa and said, "Why didn't you tell me that you'd lost so much weight? You must have been dieting like crazy to look so skinny in that gown." Rosa beamed at her, then leaned in and whispered, "You and me at the reception, Pez. Where have you been hiding this hottie you're with? I want the whole story." To Ian, Rosa said, "So, you're the guy we keep hearing so much about, huh?" His eyes went wide, "I am?" Sara punched her friend playfully, "She's just teasing you, Ian. It's her warped sense of humor. Don't pay any attention to her."

Once they were in the sunlight on the steps of the church, Sara could see the concern on Ian's face. "What?" she asked. "Do you think your partner knows that it was me that overpowered and buried him?" he said. "If he did, I think he probably would have mentioned it," Sara replied. "Relax, ace," she added, kneading the rigid muscles in his arm, "You're so tense. Here, take some rice and try not to wipe anyone out when you throw it." He looked at her, shocked, "Sara, I wouldn't…" Sara laughed, "Joke, baby, just a joke. You need to settle down a little or you're not going to make it through the reception. Okay?" He took a deep breath and forced his muscles to loosen up a bit, "Okay," he responded. Just then, Vicki joined them with her hands full of rice and said to Ian, "So, where's the eye patch?" Sara groaned. "Eye h?"h?" he asked, as all hell broke loose and rice filled the air.

When they were safely in the car on the way to the reception, Sara said to Ian, "Vicki calls you a pirate because you look dark and dashing and just a little bit dangerous." He glanced quickly at Sara before focusing back on the road, "Dark and dashing? Are you teasing me again?" he asked. "C'mon, Ian. You must know how you look. You're like something off the cover of a romance novel," she replied. He didn't respond and she could tell that the thought had honestly never occurred to him. She slid closer to him and asked, "Did I embarrass you?" "No, of course not," he said, "I guess I've just never had much reason to think about my appearance other than how it applied to my work." She frowned, "You mean like the gloves and always wearing black so you blend into the dark?" He nodded, "Exactly." Sara leaned over to lick his ear and the car swerved slightly before he recovered. "Well," she said, grinning wickedly, "Vicki seems to see you raping and pillaging across the bounding main, metaphorically speaking of course. And, ve tve to admit, the image of you in an open white shirt with billowing sleeves and tight breeches is kind of appealing – not to mention the sword." Now, he grinned back and said, "I guess we'll have to play dress-up soon." Leaving her staring at him open-mouthed as he parked the car.

They were seated at a table with Vicki and several other friends that Rosa knew primarily through Danny. When Ian went to the open bar to get drinks for Sara and Vicki, Vicki leaned close to Sara and asked, "Am I embarrassing him with the pirate stuff? Should I stop? It's hard to tell what he's thinking. I don't want to make him uncomfortable." Sara smiled at her, "He's not used to this kind of social situation, Vick. I guess he's never had many friends that he could just hang out with – always been kind of a loner, you know? But he's got to learn sometime. Ian's very quick, very smart, and he's got this kind of sly sense of humor. I'd say – go for it. He can take care of himself." At that moment, he returned and, as he put their drinks on the table, he leaned close to Vicki's ear and whispered, "Arghhh." Vicki grinned, delighted. "So," she said as he sat back next to Sara, "Where is the eye patch?" He turned to her and shrugged, dead serious, "On the parrot. ve ove only one and we often fight over it. I lost the battle today." Sara smiled and ran her hand over his thigh under the table. He turned back to her and put his hand over hers.

After everyone had eaten, the family started making the rounds of the tables. Vicki had wandered off to talk to someone and Danny dropped into the chair that she'd left vacant. Sara was holding Ian's hand and she felt it tense. She squeezed his fingers gently. "I don't know what you said to Rosa, Pez," Danny said, "But it did the trick. Thanks." Sara smiled, "My pleasure. She's always worrying too much about that stuff. She shouldn't be doing it on her wedding day." Danny turned to Ian, "So, you used to be a Black Dragon, huh?" he asked. Sara choked on her white wine. Ian squeezed her fingers gently now before he replied, "Yes, I did. What do you want to know?" At which point, Danny launched into a complicated question about some highly esoteric martial arts practice. And, Ian responded with an equally complicated description. Sara shook her head and went to get more wine.

When she got back to the table, Danny and Ian were arranging to meet for a workout session together. As she sat back down, Danny got up and slapped Ian on the back saying, "Well, I better get back to the wedding party or Lee will have my head. We'll have to have you two over to the house for dinner soon. Later, Pez, Ian." Ian raised his hand and Sara said, "Yeah, later, partner," with a befuddled look on her face. She turned to Ian and said, "Well, you seem to have overcome your nervousness quite well." Ian smiled, "I like him and we actually have quite a lot in common."

She leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips. When she pulled back again, he asked, "What was that for?" "For doing this for me," she said, "I know it wasn't easy for you. Do one more thing for me?" "Anything," he replied. "Dance with me," she whispered, as the small band started playing a slow dance. She watched as sheer panic filled his eyes. "I don't know how to dance," he said. "It's really easy. I'll show you," she said taking his hand. "Sara…, he started, but she just tugged on his hand until he was standing. She didn't let go until he followed her onto the dance floor. "Sara, I'm going to make fools of us both," he said desperately, trying to tug away from her.

But she wouldn't let go. Instead, she pulled his arms around her waist and then slipped both her arms around his neck. She nuzzled her face against his neck and licked that sensitive spot just under his chin. She felt him shiver in her arms as she said, low and throaty, "Now, just move against me with the music. Shut your eyes and forget about where we are." She heard one long, ragged breath escape him as he tried to do what she asked. Soon, like everything else that he did, he had it down. They were moving together on the dance floor like they moved together in bed.

At the dais where the wedding party sat, Danny's niece said, "Damn. They are hot." Lee turned to her and said, "Watch your language, Mija." Then, Lee followed her niece's gaze to the dance floor where Ian and Sara were wrapped around each other slow dancing. She leaned toward her husband and said, "Mija's right. They make a stunning couple. What's he like?" Danny shook his head, "Hard to read. He seems okay." "Well, one thing's for sure," she said, "He's head over heels in love with Sara." Danny raised an eyebrow, "And, how do you know that?" he asked. "It's obvious whenever he looks at her – that is, when she's not looking back," she replied. "And what about her?" Danny asked, humoring her, "Is Sara in love with him?" "I don't know her as well as you do, Danny," Laid,aid, "I can't tell." "You don't know Ian at all," Danny replied. Lee shook her head, "But it's obvious with him. It's all right there in his eyes." Danny just shook his head.

Out on the dance floor, Ian and Sara had just finished their third slow dance in a row. Now, a fast number had started and they went back to the table by mutual agreement. Vicki was back in her chair and when they sat, she smiled and said, "I kind of figured you two might be heading home directly from the dance floor." Ian dropped his eyes and blushed because that was exactly what had been going through his mind. Vicki touched his arm and said, "Oh, god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. My mouth sometimes gets away from me." He shook his head and grinned, "No, it's okay, Vicki. I just didn't realize that what I wanted to do to Sara was that obvious." Now, Vicki blushed. Sara laughed and said, "That's okay, you two. Just go ahead and keep talking about me as if I'm not here."

Just then, the single men were called to gather around to catch Rosa's tossed garter. Sara and Vicki pushed Ian up and into the small group. He didn't catch the garter though – mostly because he hadn't a clue what was going on. When the single women jostled together to caRosaRosa's tossed bouquet, Sara had better luck. She won the prize. And everyone at the table turned to pointedly stare at Ian, who once again didn't have a clue what was going on. When Sara sat back down with her prize, he leaned close to her and whispered, "What does this mean?" pointing to the captured bouquet. She grabbed his lapel and pulled him over for a quick kiss, "It means that I'll be the next one getting married," she replied. He blinked, "Oh, so if I had caught the garter…" He looked so disappointed that Sara gently stroked his cheek, "It's all just superstition, baby," she said.

They cut the big wedding cake around 8:00 in the evening, and Sara went to get the two little boxes of cake to put under their pillows that night. When she came back to the table, he laughed and said, "Okay, I'm afraid to ask what we're supposed o wio with these." She briefly thought of coming up with some outlandish story to tease him with but she figured that he'd been through enough for one day. "If we put these under our pillows tonight," she said, "We're supposed to dream of the person that we'll marry." Almost too quickly to see, all his feelings were there in those expressive eyes before he hid them again, "I don't need a little box of cake for that," he said. Sara smiled and caught his hand in hers, "Ready to go home?" she asked. He nodded. They said their goodbyes and headed for the car holding ha


It wasn't yet 10:00 when they got back to Sara's loft and she was kind of keyed up from all the excitement. Ian, on the other hand, was exhausted from trying to be "normal" for the last seven hours. As soon as they were in the loft, Sara swung him back against the front door and pressed him into a passionate kiss. He wasn't too tired for that and he responded with equal passion. "Ummm," she said, "You taste like wedding cake." He grinned, "Does that mean you want to put me under your pillow?" Sara grinned back at him. "Oh, I think that I can find better places than that to put you," she said. That thought obviously appealed to him because he leaned toward her for another kiss, but she put a hand on his chest to hold him back and said, "Easy, big boy. If I don't get these shoes off in the next two minutes,m gom going to collapse."

Obligingly, Ian swung her into his arms and carried her over to the sofa. Once there, he sat with Sara on his lap and eased off her shoes. She slipped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face between his chin and shoulder, "You're very helpful," she whispered. "I live to please you," he whispered back. "That's lovely," she replied, "But right now I think that I'd like to get this dress off and get into my p.j.'s." "I can help with that too," he said, turning his head to nibble her ear lobe. "I'll bet you can," she said, "But I'd like to spend a little time alone with you tonight vertical instead of horizontal. Okay?" "Sure," he responded, as he continued to nibble. "So?" she said. He raised his head and met her eyes. "Did you bring pajamas in that little bag of yours?" she asked, "Because it's going to be very distracting if you didn't." He saw that he wasn't going to get anywhere until Sara was comfortable again, "I brought pajamas," he responded, reluctantly letting Sara up off his lap.

"Great," shid, id, "So, let's get comfortable. Then, we can make some popcorn and see what's on the tube." Ian looked up at her. "You want to make popcorn and watch television?" he asked. "I'm in the mood for a nice, weepy old movie," she said, "What do you think?" He shrugged, "Whatever you want." She reached down to pull the band out of his hair, running her fingers through the silky black waves, "Hey, how about a little enthusiasm here, pal," she said. He pulled her hand to his lips, "I'm sorry. I guess the day is catching up to me. As long as I'm with you, I don't care what we do. I'll love every minute of it." "Okay. Get changed then. I'll be back in a little while," she said, heading into the bathroom. Ian sighed and started to strip.

He was sitting on the sofa with his legs stretched out to rest on the coffee table when Sara finally came out of the bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder to see what was taking her so long and then actually did a double take. Sara was standing by the kitchen wearing a black negligee and the necklace that he'd given her. His eyes got huge and he just stared at her. She started to feel a little silly and she mumbled, "Well, say something." He unwound his long body from the sofa and stood, "You look incredible, " he said, his voice low and hoarse, "But it just defeats the purpose. It makes me want to take it off of you." Sara smiled. And then she took a good look at him. He was wearing black silk pajamas. The bottoms rode low on his slender hips and the top was unbuttoned. Her mouth went dry. "Wow," she whispered back, "I see what you mean. I just want to slide my hand right down inside those." His eyes went dark and he said, "Go right ahead."

Sara cleared her throat and turned toward the kitchen, saying brightly, "Where's that popcorn? Why don't you check the TV magazine there to see what's on?" Ian shut his eyes, fighting frustration. After a couple of minutes, he had himself under control again. He sat back down and opened the magazine. From the kitchen, Sara called, "So, what's on?" her words punctuated by the first staccato pops from the microwave. "Not us," he thought, but aloud he said, "'A Tale of Two Citieis ois on in about five minutes." She stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway, "What's that about?" she asked, "Have you seen it?" He looked up and she said with him, "I read the book." He laughed.

"It's set during the French Revolution. Two men who are virtually identical are in love with the same woman," he said, "She loves the hero-type back. The other, who's an alcoholic, hides his love from her but turns out to be the real hero of the story." "Who wrote it?" she asked. "Charles Dickens," he replied. She came out of the kitchen carrying a big bowl of popcorn, "Oh, him," she said, "Who's in it?" He checked the magazine again, "Ronald Coleman." "Ahhh, good," she said, "It's an old movie." He took the bowl of popcorn from her and set it on the coffee table, saying, "And a weepy one. Just what you wanted." He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flipping to the channel for the movie. It was just starting. She turned off the light and said to Ian, "Just stretch out on the sofa there so that I can kind of snuggle in with you." He stretched out and she snuggled in. At first, she had trouble concentrating on the movie. The combination of hard, warm body and slippery, cool silk underneath her was driving her crazy. But, in a little while, she got caught up in the story.

By the time Sidney Carton gave his "It is a far, far better thing I do…" speech, Sara was snifflloudloudly. Ian grabbed some tissues from the box on the table. He slipped them into her hand and leaned down tos ths the top of her head, "It's only a story, love." She clicked the button on the remote, turning off the TV, before she said, "I know. Did you like the movie they made of it?" He nodded, "Very much." She turned over on the sofa so that she was facing him. Now, there was only thin silk between them as they slid and shifted against each other. She heard his breathing quicken and she did what she'd wanted to do earlier; sliding her hand down inside the loose silk pajama bottoms to caress him. She felt his warm hand moving up her leg and over the inside of her thigh to play in the wet heat of her.

"It'd be a shame to mess up those beautiful silk pajamas," she whispered. He said hoarsely, "Hold on a minute." She stopped what she was doing while he shifted his body to kick his way out of the pajama bottoms. She moved her hand back around him and he sighed, "Why is it that all my clothes seem to end up on the floor of your loft?" "Because nothing you wear can match what's underneath," she said. His hands were trying to move over her and getting caught in the silk gown. "Stop," he said again. "What?" she asked, halting in mid-stroke. "I love the gown, Sara. I'm thrilled that you wore it for me. It worked. Now, can we please get rid of the damn thing?" he asked. She laughed and lifted her arms up over her head as he slid nightgown off of her.

All that was left on him now was the silk pajama top, and that wasn't getting in the way of anything. She moved in closer to him until thbodibodies touched. He shut his eyes and moaned softly, "God, Sara, I want you so much it's like a sickness with me. I can't get enough of you." She leaned in to kiss him. "I'm not complaining," she whispered breathlessly, "You know, you look incredibly erotic with just that pajama top on you – it's sexier than if you weren't wearing anything at all." His breath was coming in hot little gasps, "Good, because I don't want to stop again to take it off."

She raised her leg up over his hip and lifted herself up so that he could thrust inside her. He leaned in to her and they moved slowly, locked together, until they reached a point where holding back became almost painful. He slipped his hand between them to rub her and Sara dug her nails into his back, scratching him when she tried to pull him even closer. And, suddenly, his skillful fingers pushed her over the edge. She strained against him as if she was trying to absorb him, and he let go of the need that had been building in him since she'd taught him to slow dance at the reception.

After, they lay quietly on the sofa, tangled in each other's arms, neither moving. Finally, Sara shivered and he whispered, "Are you cold, love?" She opened her eyes drowsily. She could just see him in the dark. "A little," she whispered back. "Let me take you to the bed and get you under the covers," he said. "I want you to stay inside me," she whispered. She heard his soft laugh, "Even I can't carry you to the bed and do that too, Sara. It's an anatomical impossibility." "Spoil sport," she replied, half asleep, "Don't forget to put the cake under the pillow." "I won't," he said, "Go to sleep, darling. I love you." "Mmmmm, me too," she mumbled as she fell fast asleep in his arms.

Sara woke to the moonlit loft in the middle of the night. She lay still for a moment before she realized that someone was whimpering. That's what had woken her. She rolled over and saw that Ian was curled up tight on his side. His face was wet with tears in the moonlight and he was making those awful sounds. He was obviously having a nightmare, she thought – and a pretty horrible one, at that. Sara wasn't sure just what to do. She wanted to wake him but she didn't know what a lethal Ian Nottingham might do if she suddenly pulled him back from wherever he was. Then, his body curled into an even tighter fetal position and he sobbed pushing his head down into the pillow. And she couldn't stand it any longer. She had to wake him.

She touched his shoulder and thought, "God, he's freezing." He was ice cold. She pulled the covers up over him and gently shook his shoulder, whispering his name. He just kept shaking and whimpering, locked deep in the dream. She shook him a le hle harder and suddenly he sat straight up and gasped. A second later he was in her arms, holding on to her as if she was solid ground and he was drowning. He was still shaking uncontrollably, his breathing ragged. She stroked his trembling back saying over and over, "Shhh, it'sy, iy, it's okay. You're awake now. Shhh." Gradually, he stopped shaking and loosened his death grip on her a little. She pushed his sweat-soaked hair back from his face and looked in his eyes. She was startled by what she saw – the word that popped into her head was "haunted." She leaned in to kiss his forehead and said, "That must have been a really bad one, huh?"

He eased back from her a little and dropped his eyes, "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice raspy, "I'm sorry that I woke you." She kept stroking his hair and said, "That's okay. Why don't you lie down and tell me about it." She watched as a shiver went all the way through him and he closed his eyes, "I'm sorry," he whispered again, "I don't want to bother you with this." She pulled him into her arms and he clung to her. She could still feel little tremors running through his body. "Talk to me, Ian," she said gently, "You're not bothering me. I love you." Finally, he moved back out of her arms and ran a hand through his hair. "I haven't had it for a long time," he said, "I thought it might be gone for good. I guess I was wrong." He gave a shaky little laugh that chilled her.

"I bet it would help to talk about it," she said, "Have you ever told anyone about it?" He shook his head, "I couldn't," he whispered, "If they tried to comfort me, they were gone the next day. I learned to just stay awake until it was light again." "How old were you when you learned that?" she asked. He ran his hand through his hair again, "I don't know – five or six, I guess." Sara's heart ached for him. She took his hands in hers and said, "Well, no one's going to take me away from you. So you can tell me about it. I think it might help you to get it out. C'mon, tell me. Then, I'll make us some hot chocolate and we can go back to sleep. You're not alone this time."

He took a deep breath and said, "I'm in the corner of a little room and there's no place to run to. It's very dark and very cold. It's coming to get me." "What is?" she asked. He shook his head and said, "I don't know. I just know it's very big and very strong, and it's going to suck the life out of me." She winced and tightened her grip on hinds,nds, "What does it look like?" He shut his eyes, "I can't really see any details. It's more like a shape, a mist. It surrounds me and I can't get away. I can feel everything that's me being pulled from inside me. It's going to pull me out and throw me away, and then it's going to fill the shell that's left. And, I'll be gone." Sara pulled him close and he clung to her again. "God, that's horrible," she said. She felt him shiver again and she stroked his back, trying to use the rhythm of her hand to calm him down. "I always wake up just before the last piece of me is gone," he said against her, "At least, I always have."

"How long have you been having this nightmare?" Sara asked. He moved out of her arms, finally looking calmer. Ian shook his head and said, "Always. As far back as I can remember." "I know he's an ass," she said, "But didn't Irons try to get any help for you; didn't he at least try to comfort you. I mean you were just a little kid." His lips quirked, "It was a weakness that had to be overcome. It was a lot worse when I was little. I used to wake up screaming all the time. It gothis his nerves." Sara kept stroking him, petting him; she wanted him to understand that he wasn't alone. He finally caught her hands and said, "I'm okay now, Sara. Really." He dropped his head and said, "Just another delightful aspect of your psycho lover, huh?" She raised his chin and their met met, "Don't you dare do that to yourself, Ian. Thsn'sn't your fault. You should have had help with this a long time ago."

He pulled her back into his arms and said, "I love you, Sara. I love you so much." He held her there quietly for a few moments before he let her go and turned away. "Maybe that's the problem," he said, "It's been a long, long time since I had anything much to lose." She rubbed his arm and said, "You're not going to lose me, Ian." He just shrugged, one tiny movement of one shoulder. He gave a soft, bitter laugh, "I don't think I'll use wedding cake as a sleep enhancement in the future." She smiled, "It's nice to see that you've still got your sense of humor." He winced, "Oh, yeah. I'm just a laugh a minute."

She said, "Come on in the kitchen with me and I'll make us some hot chocolate. Then, when you feel better, we can go back to bed. We can sleep in tomorrow morning." She saw that haunted look move across his eyes again. "I have to go back tomorrow," he said. Sara pushed the hair back out of his face and said, "We can talk about that too."

***************************************

Sara rolled over and reached for Ian only to find the warm, empty spot where he had been. She blearily opened one eye to see sunlight streaming into the loft. Then, she smelled coffee and a steaming mug moved into her field of vision. Sara smiled and whispered groggily, "Ahhh, you really are the most perfect man." He sat on the bed next to her and carefully eased the mug into her outstretched hand. "Some perfect man," he replied, "Waking you up in mid middle of the night with his private paranoias."

She sipped some coffee and turned to take a good look at him. She rubbed his leg through the pajama bottoms that he'd put back on, "You look tired," she said. He absently rubbed his eyes, "I'm fine now," he said, "I'm really sorry that I woke you last night." She put the mug on the bedside table and took his hand in hers. "Ian, stop apologizing," she said, "You can't control a nightmare. I didn't mind waking up. I'm glad I was with you so that you didn't have to go through that alone." He pulled Sara into his arms and held her close. She rubbed his back through the thin silk of the pajamas and said, "Hey, hey, ace. It's okay. Are you alright? You're shaking."

He pulled back and she could see that his eyes were shiny. He dropped his gaze, embarrassed, and said, "You're being so great about this. I figured you'd want no part of me after you had a first-hand look at some of the baggage that I'm carrying." She raised his chin and said, "You were wrong," leaning in to kiss him gently. "Stop being so nice to me," he whispered, dropping his head again, "You're going to make me lose it." She smiled, "You want me to bat you around a little, is that it?" she growled. He laughed and hugged her close, "Yeah. That would be good. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so guilty and weak."

Sara kept holding him while she ran one hand through his thick silky hair, "J bab baby, stop being so rough on yourself. Cut yourself a little slack here, okay? I don't know much about your childhood but, by normal standards, I imagine it was probably pretty hellish. The last thing that I think you are is weak." He turned his head to kiss her deeply. Their tongues briefly dueled and a little arrow of heat shot right down her center. He slipped down to kiss her neck as he whispered, "Thanks." She raised her chin to give him more room and said, "Ummmm, you can thank me again if you want." He smiled and brought his lips back to hers. This time the kiss lasted a lot longer before he pulled back. She stroked his cheek, "Are there any of those pastries left?"

Ian shook his head and got up to go to the kitchen, throwing over his shoulder, "I think so. But they're probably two days old now. I could go and get you fresh, if you want. Or, I could make us breakfast – eggs, bacon, toast – the works." Sara realized that her nightgown was still lying on the floor by the sofa. She cleared her throat and Ian stopped, turning back to her. "Before you go," she said, "Could you get me my robe so that I can get out of bed?" He detoured to the bathroom, getting Sara's bathrobe off the hook behind the door and bringing it to her. Sara said, "Thanks. The full breakfast actually sounds really good if you're willing to make it. I don't usually have time and, of course, I don't cook. But since I've got the day off, it'd be nice to sit down to breakfast with you." "It's the least I can do for you," he said.

While Ian made breakfast, Sara took a shower. When she got into the shower, she noticed that it was already wet making her wonder how long Ian had been up. She wondered if he'd gotten back to sleep at all. He looked so tired. "Maybe I can get him to lown own with me this afternoon and nap," she thought. When she'd held him, she'd felt muscles taut with tension. As Sara came out of the bathroom, Ian was just putting breakfast on the table. She noticed that the kitchen was already cleaned up and she said, "How did you manage that?" He looked around him, "What?" he asked. She waved a hand at the kitchen, "Where's the mess?" He blinked, "Oh. I clean up as I cook. I put things in the dishwasher when I finish with them. It saves time later."

She smiled as they sat down to eat. "Am I amusing you?" he asked. "You're very neat, Ian. Very precise," she said. He shrugged, "I learned to take care of myself in the military. They don't encourage much freedom of expression. Does it annoy you?" She frowned at him playfully. "Are you trying to pick a fight with me, buster?" she asked, crunching a piece of bacon. He rubbed at his eyes again, "No, I'm not. I'm sorry. I'm just tired and edgy." "Actually," she said, "I was wondering if my messiness doesn't annoy you. I know that I have a tendency to sort of leave things where they drop." This time when he smiled it reached his eyes, "Nothing about you annoys me, Sara. I love every messy inch of you."

She laughed. "Good. That makes what I'm going to suggest just a touch more workable," she said, studying him over her coffee mug. She stopped there. The silence dragged out until Ian looked up from idly pushing scrambled eggs around on his plate. He blinked and said, "I'm sorry. Did I miss something?" "Nope," she replied, "I just want to be sure that I have your full attention for this." He put his fork down on his plate and wiped his mouth with the paper napkin beside his plate. Then, he crumpled the napkin up into a ball in his clenched fist. She saw that his hand was shaking. She reached across the table to cover his hand with hers. "What's the matter?" she asked. He swallowed and said very softly, "Are you getting ready to tell me that you don't want to see me any mor

Now she smiled. "No. Actually, I was getting ready to ask you to move in with me." He just stared at her for a moment as if his brain was having trouble processing what she'd said. "What did you say?" he whispered. She squeezed the hand that she still held, "I said do you want to…", which was as far as she got before he whispered, "Yes." She leaned in and whispered, "You don't have to whisper you know. No one can hear us. Irons isn't going to drop down from the heavens and take this away from you." One corner of his mouth turned up, "Are you sure about that?" he said, and then added seriously, "Are you sure about this?"

She shrugged, "I know it's not going to be easy. In fact, I figured you were going to give me a hard time about not being able to leave the mansion, how it wasn't safe, how you needed to keep an eye on Irons, yada, yada, yada..." Now he had to smile. "Were you counting on me to talk you out of it, ?" ?" he asked. She laughed, "No, smart ass. I wasn't counting on you to talk me out of it. I just thought that I might have to wear you down a little. I didn't think you'd just give in without a fight."

"I want to be with you," he said simply, "I've been thinking about having to leave you again today since I woke up. Never being able to stay with you. Never knowing when we'll be able to be together again." Sara went back to work on her breakfast. She said, "You need to make a clean break from Irons. No going back. Can you do that?" "He's not going to just let me walk away, you know. He's invested too much time and money in me," he said, "He'll come after me in some way and that means that he'll come after you too." "So, we'll face him together then," she said.

Sara looked up when he was quiet. She could practically see the thoughts running through that quick brain of his. She could feel him considering the results of what they were about to do. "Here come the objections," she thought. "This isn't fair to you, Sara," he said, "I'm supposed to be your protector and instead I'm putting you at greater risk. I'm being selfish because I want so much to be a real part of your life." "Instead of being what, Ian – a convenient lay, an escort when no one better is available?" she asked. He winced but didn't dispute her statement. "I'm sorry," he responded softly, "I didn't mean to upset you."

She put down her fork again. Then, she went to him and sat on his lap, putting her arms around his neck. "Ian, you've got to understand somethinge. Ie. I do want to get you away from Irons but that's not why I'm doing this. I want to be with you as much as you want to be with me. I love you. You are a real part of my life right now. Can't you believe that?" "I'm trying, Sara," he replied, "I guess I still can't believe that you really want me, love me. I keep waiting for the moment tyou you look over and discover that you made a mistake." She leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose, "Why is it so hard for you to believe?"

He shrugged and dropped his eyes. "Because I know what I am," he said. "And what's that?" she asked. Still not meeting her eyes, he said, "Kenneth Irons' failed lab experiment: genetically and chemically altered; psychologically conditioned; socially inept; sexually inexperienced; emotionally damaged. I'm a real prize, Sara - a freak. Why on earth would someone like you want someone like me?" She laughed and his eyes finally rose to meet hers, "We're going to have to work on that self-image, pal. I actually see you very differently. I see a kind and gentle man who has a sneaky sense of humor; someone who's very smart and drop-dead gorgeous; a considerate lover who's becoming very inventive; a protector who's always there to back me up and keep me safe; and a friend who sees me as I am and loves me anyway. Why on earth wouldn't I want someone like you?"

He pulled her tight into his arms and lowered his head to her chest, while she stroked his thick hair. "God, Sara, I don't know what to say to you," he responded, "I just don't have the words to tell you how you make me feel, how much I love you." She grabbed a handful of his silky curls and gave them a sharp little tug, "The only words that I want you to find right now, Mr. Nottingham, are these: 'Yes, Sara, I'll move in with you today and whatever happens we'll deal with it together.'" He raised his head and leaned in to kiss her. Then, he said with a tiny quirk of the lips, "Yes, Sara, I'll move in with you today and whatever happens we'll deal with it together."

While Ian rinsed the breakfast plates and ran the dishwasher, Sara changed the bed – something she did every Sunday. She called to him in the kitchen, "You're going to have to get some new clothes. You've only got what you brought with you, right? That could be an expensive proposition. If you don't have enough, I've got a little put aside in a savings account and I could…What?" she asked, as she heard him laughing in the kitchen. He came over to her and put his hands on her shouldere kie kissed her on the forehead and said, "You're very sweet, Sara. But I have more than enough money to take care of all our needs even if neither of us ever worked again."

Sara looked surprised. "Well," she said, "I guess I don't have to worry about asking you to pick up half the expenses then. As far as working goes, though…" Ian raised one hand. "I understand that you're not a cop for the money, Sara. Don't worry. I wasn't suggesting that you quit your job," he said. "What about you," she asked, "What will you do now?" Ian frowned. "I don't know," he said, walking over to the sofa and sitting down, "I've only ever worked for Mr. Irons. In theory, I could go into business for myself. I could design and implement security systems. I suspect, though, that that will be the first place where he'll strike back at me." Sara sat next to him on the sofa and asked, "What do you mean?"

"The very rich operate in a closed society, Sara," he replied, "They all know each other and do business together. Mr. Irons will spread the word that they should boycott any fledgling security enterprise that I start and I just won't find any takers." She slid an arm around him, "So, what will you do?" she asked again. He shook his head, "Find another way, I guess. Like you, I won't be working for the money but I do need to work. Maybe still use my knowledge of security but on a much smaller scale. Or, I could take a completely different approach. Use my languages somehow or my martial arts skills. I don't know. I need to think about it."

She realized that she was learning new things about him already. "How many languages do you speak?" she asked "Seven fluently and several others passably," he responded. "Wow," she said, "You make me feel like a real slacker." "Don't be silly," he said, leaning in to nibble her ear lobe, "Mr. Irons had me educated to suit his needs. Why would you need to know so many languages?" "I don't know," she replied a little breathlessly, "To say lewd things to you in Portuguese?" "Actually," he purred, pulling her on to his lap, "I don't speak very good Portuguese, anyway. Why don't you just try saying lewd things t in in English?" She smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear. He gave her that slow smile that started a fire in her belly and whispered back, "See? I wouldn't even know how to begin to translate that into Portuguese." He slid his fingers inside her robe and down between her legs. Sara shifted on his lap to open herself to him.

He stroked her and Sara pushed on his fingers, straining against him, "How do you say 'harder'," she moaned. He grinned and said, "Just like that. Like this?" In seconds, she cried out and her whole body arched up off his lap. Then, she collapsed back against his shoulder, limp. "Yes, you devil," she whispered, "Just like that." He stroked her hair, "Want to play some more or would you rather do something else?" She turned a little on his lap, aware that he was hard beneath her, and started to unbutton his pajama top, "Are you nuts?" she said, "Tomorrow I have to go back to work. What could possibly be better than making slow afternoon love with you on my day off?"

She pushed theuttouttoned pajama top off his shoulders. Holding on to him, she leaned in to trail a line of kisses from the side of his neck down to his chest. She heard his breathing start to quicken. Eager to see what he'd do, she took his right nipple in her mouth and sucked hard, then nipped it between her sharp teeth. Ian shut his eyes and gasped, his hips coming up off the sofa in a chain reaction. "Sara…," he warned, as she zeroed in on the other nipple, "We need to get to the bed right now." She dropped her hand to languidly stroke him through the thin silk of his pajama bottoms. He shut his eyes and hissed, "That's it. Slow isn't going to happen. You've pushed me way past slow now."

Ian flipped her over off his lap so that she was sitting back on the sofa. Sara's eyes went wide and she said, "Wha…?" as he slid off of the sofa to his knees. She heard the pajama bottoms rip as he yanked them down. "Put your feet up on the coffee table," he growled. Sara blinked, "Ian, what…?" He caught her bare feet and lifted them to the edge of the coffee table on either side of him. Then, he opened her robe wider and put his hands on her hips, sliding them forward on the sofa. Sara grabbed the sofa cushions to keep herself from tumbling over. "What on earth…" she started, which ended in her breath whooshing out of her as she felt him ramselfself deep inside her. She arched her back and shut her eyes, giving elf elf over to the feeling. He was thrusting so deeply inside her that she'd swear he'd soon be touching her heart. She moved her hands from where they were balanced on the cushions, letting her body fall back even further. And, impossibly, he seemed to fill her even more.

Ian was breathing in explosive gasps with every thrust, and each one was coming faster than the last. She heard him make a desperate little moan in the back of his throat as his nails dug into her hips where he was holding her to him. Sara felt like she was spinning crazily out of control, the sensations assaulting her body were coming at her so fast that they were lost in one overpowering wave of pleasure so intense that it was almost painful. Just when she tht tht that she couldn't stand it for another second, she came with bright lights dancing behind her closed eyes and the sound of her own impassioned scream in her ears. A second later, she heard Ian utter a hoarse cry and let go inside her, filling her with his heat. Then, he collapsed on to her, his head dropping into her lap.

She felt his warm breath on her bare stomach. "I can't believe I screamed. I never scream," she gasped. Face still buried in her stomach, she heard him mumble, "It must have been me then." She smiled and ruffled his hair, "Smart ass," she said. There was complete silence for a couple of minutes and then Sara said, "You ripped your pajama bottoms, didn't you?" She head a muffled sound that might have been a laugh, "Yes," he replied. Another few moments of silence passed before she asked, "Are you ever planning to get up from there?" "I think I broke something," he said, his voice still muffled by his lips pressing against her stomach. Sara smiled and stroked his hair again, "Aren't you getting cold down there on the floor?" she asked. He gave another of those muted rumbles and said, "I can't feel anything below my waist." "Well," she said, trying to pull herself up from her prone position, "that better not be permanent or I'll have to trade you in." She heard another low vibration from her stomach region.

She finally pushed herself up to a sitting position and dropped her legs from the coffee table, forcing Ian to sit up with a groan. "Sorry," she said, "I was beginning to feel like I was at the gynecologist." He raised an eyebrow and she shook her head, "Inside chick joke," she said. Their eyes met and she watched as those jungle-cat eyes of his went smoky with heat. She smiled, "I guess the feeling is starting to come back, huh?" The sensual lips quirked, "Jeez," she said, "You look like you've been rn han hard and put away wet." Now, he laughed out loud and said, "And that's exactly the way that I feel." She reached out to brush his tangled hair out of his face. He caught her hand and kissed it. She yawned, "Let's go back to bed and take a nap." Her yawn was contagious and Ian just managed to stifle a huge yawn behind his hand. She smiledhim him and said, "Uh huh, I thought that you were tired." Ian stood and kicked off the remains of his pajamas to join Sara's discarded nightgown, which was still lying in a heap by the sofa. Then, he leaned over to lift Sara into his arms and carried her to the bed. He put her down by the bed while he turned down the sheets. Sara fell back onto the clean sheets, pulling Ian in with her. They ced ued up together and he was out before she even got herself settled enough to drift off with him.

When Sara woke, it was growing dark in the loft. In the little remaining light, she could see Ian still sound asleep – lying on his back with an arm flung up above his head on the pillow. She rose up on one elbow to watch him, fascinated. He looked very young and innocent with those incredibly long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks and his lips slightly parted. As if he could feel her regard, the golden eyes suddenly flew open to meet hers. She leaned down to kiss his bare shoulder and said, "Hey, there you are." He smiled at her and said, still sleepy, "I dreamed of you." She slid her hand under the cover to rub the hard muscles of his stomach and asked, "What was it about?" His lips turned up at the edges, "Ummmm, don't remember the details. Just remember it was you and it was wonderful."

She leaned over and slipped her arm around him. Sara bent down to kiss his warm lips, which immediately parted for her. His arms came around her to pull her close. Their tongues slid over each other, playing sinuously together. Under the hand resting on his chest, Sara felt his strong heartbeat. Where earlier it had been all flash and fire, this time it was slow, languid, and sensual. They ran their hands over each other, stroking and caressing, memorizing through their fingertips. Through it all, they kept kissing deeply, slowly. When she was ready, Sara moved on to Ian to take him inside her and then pulled him back on his side so that they were face to face. She slid her leg up over his hi tha that he could slip more deeply inside her. They rocked gently together, arms twined around each other until a stronger need gradually took over. The release, when it came, was sweet and very satisfying.

As they lay curled around each other, Ian said, "Are you hungry?" Sara gently bit his shoulder and said, "Starving." "How about Thai food and a movie?" he asked. "Perfect," she replied. He sat up on the edge of the bed and said, "Good. I'll order the food if you pick out the movie. Do you like Pad Thai?" She rolled out of bed and went to the sofa to get her robe. "I actually like all Thai food," she said, "So, order whatever you want. Knock your socks off." When she turned back, she saw that he was looking at her, perplexed. "What?" she asked. "Knock my socks off?" he said. Sara laughed, "It's just an expression – go all out, get whatever you like."

Sara suddenly stopped and stared at him standing naked with the cell phone in his hand. "Do you have any clothes left other than the suit that you wore to the wedding?" she asked, "I know the pajamas are toast now." Ian grinned and said, "I have the sweats that I wore when I came over on Sunday morning. They're wrinkled but you haven't torn them off me yet." Sara snorted, "Hey, pal. I didn't rip your pajama bottoms off you. You did that yourself." He just smiled before he turned and began to order their dinner in Thai. "Show off," she mumbled as she went over to look at her meager VHS collection.

They had an amazing dinner of delivery Thai, the best that she'd ever eaten; plus they had plenty of leftovers. They'd gone back to their movie viewing positions with Ian stretched out on his back on the sofa and Sara curled in beside him. They watched "The Deer Hunter," which he had never seen, to go witeir eir food of choice. They'd talked about the movie for an hour after it was over and they were just getting ready to head back to bed for the night when a phone rang. Sara reached for her cell but realized it wasn't ringing. She turned to Ian who had gone dead white. He reached into his overnight bag to pull out the ringing phone. He held it up with two fingers as if it were a viper. Looking at her wwidewide eyes, he whispered, "It's Mr. Irons."

Sara saw that Ian had unconsciously assumed that subservient posture that she hated so much. He stood, legs slightly apart and head down, holding the ringing phone. "Give me the phone, Ian," she said. He just stood there as if he hadn't heard her. "Ian," she said, a little more sharply. This time his head came up a fraction. "I know that this is really hard for you," she continued, "I know that you've been trained your whole life to always answer that particular summons. But you have to fight the hold that he has on you if you want to stay with me. Okay?" She could see now that his whole body was shaking. "Ian," she said again, "Give me the phone."

"Oh, god, Sara. Please help me," he whispered desperately. Everything in her melted and she went to him and put her arms around him. He was shaking so hard that it scared her. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, she felt his head lower to rest on top of hers and heard the phone clatter on the floor as he dropped it. A second later she felt his arms close hesitantly around her. Very, very slowly, he stopped shaking. "I love y" he" he said softly into her hair, his voice hoarse. She hugged him, "I love you too, baby," she replied. When she bent to pick up the ringing phone, he slumped against her. She was afraid that he'd fall if she took her arms away. "Ian?" she said, pulling back just enough to look in his face.

He raised his head and she was stunned. Although she knew it had to be an illusion, he looked as if he'd just been in a battle. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes. His facial muscles looked slack somehow, the skin bruised. "He looks like hell," Sara thought. "Can you stand if I move my arms away?" she asked. He nodded and reached down a hand to brace himself against the easy chair by the sofa. Sara picked up the damn phone and found the control to shut off the sound. She slippee noe now quiet instrument into the pocket of her robe. She saw Ian turn to sink into the chair as if he were boneless.

Sara knelt in front of him and raised his chin. His breathing was erratic and he looked confused, as if he couldn't quite get a grasp on what had just happened to him. "Ian?" she said, frightened. His eyes finally focused on her and she saw that the haunted look was back. "Talk to me, Ian," she said, "What's going on with you." He raised a shaking hand to rub at his eyes and said vaguely, "I've only ever disobeyed him in little ways before, tiny rebellions. Nothing he couldn't dismiss with a laugh or beat back. I've never tried to leave him." Sara stroked his thigh gently, trying to calm him with her touch, "Okay," she interjected to keep him talking. He dropped his hand from his eyes and now she could see the fear there, "It was like my nightmare, Sara," he said, "In my head, I could hear him telling me to pick up the phone, to report in. And the longer I disobeyed him, the closer it came. That thing that swallows me up and takes away all the parts that are me until there's nothing left."

She got up from the floor and sat on his lap, pulling him into her arms. He lowered his head to her shoulder and held her tight. "Something's wrong with me," he whispered, "It's not just in my head. I feel wrong physically too – like I've been beaten. Like things have been let loose that I can't control. I feel wrong inside. I don't know how to explain it. I don't think I'll be able to stay with you, Sara. I'm so sorry." Her shoulder felt wet and she realized that he was crying. She heard despair in his voice and that scared her more than anything else.

Sara leaned back and tried to get him to lift his head, but he wouldn't. She gently stroked his hair and said, "First of all, you're not alone. We agrehat hat we'd deal with the problems together. Remember?" When he didn't say anything, she continued, "It seems to me that Irons probably did something to you chemically or genetically. And maybe something you said or did tonight acted as a kind of trigger to set off what you're feeling." No response. "So," she added, "I think we need to find our own expert to see what's been done to you and whether it can be fixed. Take you to a doctor and get some tests done." Now, his head came up. "No doctors," he said. She saw the look on his face and knew that she'd never change his mind.

"Okay," she thought, "I need to approach this from a different angle." She pushed his damp hair back from his face and said, "You like Vicki, don't you?" He stared at her for a moment and cautiously replied, "Yes." "Good," she said, "What if I ask Vicki to see what she can find out – if she's willing. Would you work with her?" He shut his eyes. "God, he looks exhausted," she thought. "Sara," he said very quietly, "We don't know what's wrong with me. We don't know what I might do. I could hurt you. I won't let that happen." She leaned in to kiss his lips but he didn't respond and she sighed, "You would never hurt me, Ian. No matter what – I know that in my gut. Just tell me. Will you work with Vicki if she's willing?" He shook his head and said, "It will only postpone what's inevitable." Sara punched his shoulder and said, "Okay, damn it, then just delay the fucking inevitable. If you can't find another reason, do it for me. Promise?" He shrugged and gave in to her, "Promise." "He's just trying to shut me up," she thought, "but I'll hold him to that using his damn code of honor if I have to."

She rubbed his shoulder and said, "Would you like some hot chocolate?" The corner of his mouth turned up in a tiny smile and he said, "Sara's cure for all ills. No thanks. You go on to bed. You have to get up for work tomorrow. I just need to stay here a while and think. I won't be able to sleep." "I'm going to make myself some tea first and give Vicki a . If. If she's on board, you can come in to work with me tomorrow," she said. Sara got up off his lap to go to the kitchen. She glanced back at him worriedly. He'd shut his eyes and turned his head to the side, away from her. Sara put the kettle on to boil and dialed Vicki's number. She knew Vicki was a night owl who never went to bed before 1:00 A.M.

She heard the phone being picked up and then Vicki answered, "County Morgue." Sara smiled, "Yo, Vick. You remember that you're at home, right?" She heard Vicki chuckle, "Oh, right. What's up, Pez?" "I really need your help, Vicki," Sara said. "Sure. Whatever you need," Vicki responded. "You better hear me out first. This is personal and private. Just between you and me for now. Danny doesn't know about it yet and I definitely don't want Jake to know. Are you okay with that?" she asked. "Are you in trouble, Sara?" Vicki asked. "Indirectly, I guess, yeah," she responded, "It's Ian." "Oh," Vicki replied, "That didn't take long, did it?" "Vick.." Sara started. "Sorry," Vicki said, "How can I help?" "This is a long story," Sara said, "And I don't know all the particulars. You'll have to get those from him if he's willing to tell you. He's not saying much to me right now. Are you sitting down?" "Shoot," Vick replied.

Sara filled Vicki in on Irons and his manipulation of Ian, at least as much as she knew. When she finished, Vicki said, "That's a truly bizarre story, Pez, but believable because it's you. How is he?" Sara sighed and said, "He's scared. He feels like the life he wanted so badly has just been taken away forever. He thinks he's a ticking bomb and that he's not safe around me. He believes that his life is over." Vicki asked, "You're getting suicidal vibes from him?" "Oeah,eah," Sara responded, "I'm hoping that maybe you can figure out what Irons might have done to him physically, but I'm also hoping that I can get him to talk to Maggie Reese tomorrow." "How do you think he'll respond to the idea that you want him to talk to the department shrink?" Vicki asked. I haven't a clue," Sara said, "Right now, he's locked himself up so tight that I haven't any idea what'sng tng through that mind of his." She heard Vicki sigh. "Good luck with him tonight, kiddo," Vicki said, "You got me on your team. We'll see what we can find out tomorrow." Before she hung up, Sara said, "Thanks, Vick. I owe you big time."

Sara made her tea and carried it with her to the sofa. She sat and looked over at Ian, who sat quietly in the chair, eyes closed. Sara sipped her tea for a few moments, then said, "Come lay down with me, baby. I know you don't think you'll sleep but I'd feel better holding you close." His eyes opened and he said, "Until we know what's wrong with me, I don't think you should get too close to me, Sara. It's not safe." Sara slammed the mug down on the coffee table between them and Ian jumped. "Okay, screw that," she growled, "I want you in bed with me now." Ian looked at her and softly said, "No." "Damn it, Ian," she cried, "I know that you'd never hurt me. Please, I need to hold you. I need to feel you against me." He shut his eyes again and said, "Don't, Sara. Don't make it harder than it already is, please." Sara sniffled, "Shit," and went over to lie down in the empty bed, hoping that he'd change his mind and join her. He didn't.

It was still dark and Sara was sound asleep when Ian slipped out of the loft a little after 6:00. The alarm went off at 7:30 and was immediately shut off again. Sara felt him ease down onto the bed beside her. She opened her eyes and flew into his arms. She knocked the breath out of him and when he was able he said, "Sara, watch. I've got your coffee in my hand." Her voice was muffled in his neck where her lips were kissing whatever skin she could find, "Don't want coffee. I want you." He made a little sound of pleasure in the back of his throat and upped the ante, "I've got pastries from the bakery down the block." She licked his left earlobe then bit down gently, saying, "The pastries will keep. Hold me."

He put the mug of hot coffee on the bedside table and slid his arms around her. Sara couldn't get close enough. She was raining hot little kisses all over his face, both hands gripped in his silky hair to keep him still. He tried to pull back a little, saying, "Sara, I can't breathe." "A small price to pay," she mumbled, easing off a bit on her assault. She dropped her hands to his shoulders and really looked at him now. "You look tired but at least that awful defeated look is gone from your eyes. You've decided to fight him," she said. His lips quirked, "You know me so well." "Not that well," she mumbled, "I was sure that you'd come to bed with me last night and you didn't. Promise me that you won't stay away from me like that again." He looked directly into her eyes and said, "I can't do that, Sara. If I dt fet feel safe to be around you, I won't come near you no matter how much I want to."

"So what's different this morning?" she asked, "Not that I'm complaining." "That feeling that I'm not in control of myself has eased off. But I'm still 'wrong' inside, for want of a better word. Whatever switch was turned on, is still open. It's just like there's a damper on it right now. Am I making any sense at all?" he asked. She ran her thumb over his bottom lip and he nipped her finger. "Yeah," she replied, "I'm getting the gist of what you're feeling. So, it's safe to be close again." "Right now it is. Yes," he said.

She ran her hands up under his sweatshirt, "That's good because I really, really want you." "Sara, that doesn't mean that I think we should…," he started. One of her hands went from his chest down under the band of his sweatpants, where she discovered that they were all he wore. She raised her eyebrow. He blushed, "I just couldn't put them on again and there's been no time to do laundry. I've got to get some new clothes today." She grinned back at him. "Well, it will certainly make it easier for Vicki to do an exam," she said. His eyes went wide, "What exam? I thought she'd just draw blood." Sara's hand moved lower and started stroking him hard. His eyes shut briefly and then he murmured, "Oh hell," before stripping off his few remaining pieces of clothing.

Afterwards, Sara lay curled against him sipping her coffee. "If you don't get a move on, you're going to be late for work," he whispered, running his hand through her hair. She rested the mug on his stomach and snuggled closer, "Then I'll be late," she whispered back. A few moments of silence passed. "We both still need to take a shower," he tried again, "I don't think it would be proper for me to report to Vicki smelling like hot sex, do you?" Sara ran her hand down his slender hip. "You always smell like hot sex to me," she said. "I'm not sure that's a compliment," he replied.

When she still showed no sign of movement, he asked, "Sara, what's wrong? This isn't like you. You usually can't wait to get to work." She leaned up to kiss him on that spot under his chin and he shivered against her. "I guess I'm nervous about leaving you," she mumbled, "What if it happens again and you decide to do something stupid? What if I'm not there to stop you?" He put her coffee mug on the table and pulled her up into his arms. "Honey, we can't live joined at the hip," he said kissing her lips softly, "You're just going to have to trust me. When this bomb went off inside me last night, all I could think was that he'd won again the way he always does, and that I'd never be able to be with you now. And you're right – I wanted to die. But I've had all night to think things through and I'm not willing to give you up without a fight. So, you don't have to stand guard over me. Okay? I promise that I won't do something stupid unless I check with you first."

Sara glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and said, "Oh my god, is that the time? We need to hit the shower right now. Why didn't you tell me it was this late?" He smiled as he watched her dash to the bathroom, dragging her robe behind her. A moment later she shouted out, "Do you think you could you bring me my coffee and a couple of those pastries?" Ian refilled her mug, grabbed a couple of her favored cheese Danishes and a handful of napkins, and joined her in the bathroom. An hour later, they were in his jeep and on the way to the precinct. Once there, Sara asked him, "Do you want me to come with you to see Vicki?" "I know my way, thanks," he replied, leaning in to kiss her before leaving. She stopped him with a hand to his chest, glancing around quickly to see whether any cops were around. "Not here, ace," she hissed. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it instead. Turning to leave, he smiled and said, "Sorry. Didn't mean to damage the Pezzini mystique. Later." Sara watched him leave, appreciating the view, before hurrying to her office.

Danny and Jake both looked up when she came in. "Well, if it isn't the very late Sara Pezzini," Danny said, "Did you take an overdose of Nottingham this morning, Pez?" Jake's mouth dropped open and Sara shot Danny a dirty look as she sat at her desk. Danny saw the look on Jake's face and said softly, "Oops," before turning his undivided attention to the report spread on his desk. "So…" Jake started. Sara didn't even look at him. She just held up one hand and said, "Don't go t." ." wis wisely shut his mouth and went back to sorting and cataloging evidence.

Around mid-morning, Jake went out to get them all the good coffee from the shop at the corner. When they were alone, Danny turned to Sara and said, "Sorry about the slip. I wasn't thinking. How is the man?" Sara raised her head and Danny took a good look at her, "You look like hell, Pez," he said, "What's going on? Did you two have a fight?" Sara shook her head. "I wish it was that simple, partner," she said, and then told Danny what had happened to Ian the night before. Danny looked concerned. He genuinely liked Ian. "Poor guy. So, he's downstairs with Vicky now?" he asked. Sara nodded.

"You know," Danny said, "We should pull those Black Dragon files out again. Take another look to see if there's anything in there that might help. We could try to pump that source for more information, but that was Jake's government snitch and I don't imagine you want to bring him into this, do you?" "No. Not yet, anyway," Sara replied, "I'll keep it in mind though if nothing else pans out." Just then, Jake returned with the coffee and they put their conversation on hold.

Down in the precinct basement, Vicki was just filling the eighth tube with Ian's blood. As she pressed a gauze pad against his arm, she looked up into tired golden eyes and said, "How are you holding up there, Captain." His lips twitched, "It would have been kinder to just make me walk the plank, Matey." She replaced her fingers with his on the pad and said, "I know. I'm sorry I had to take so much. Just keep the pressure on another couple of minutes. Okay?" "Sure. Don't worry about it. You have a gentle touch for someone whose usual patients don't notice," he replied. Vicki smiled. Fortunately, it had been a slow morning for her and she'd had the time to spend with him. She did have some reports to do but they could wait, she thought.

Vicki sat in the chair next to his and asked, "How much do you know about what was done to you?" Ian shifted in the chair, uncomfortable with the subject matter, "Some," he replied, "Not as much as I should." "Why is that?" she asked. "Because I allowed myself to be controlled by the man that raised me," he replied. She looked at him curiously, but shifted her line of questioning, "So, what do you know about the methods that were used?" "I know that I was given a combination of psychotropic and experimental drugs designed to create the perfect warrior. I believe the phrase that Mr. Irons liked to use was 'lethal and loyal'," he said. Vicki pulled a cigarette from behind her ear and lit it, "God," she exclaimed. Ian smiled, "Not really. He only thought he was."

"I'm amazed that you can joke about it," she said. Ian just shrugged. "Can you tell me what drugs and dosages were used?" Ian shook his head and responded, "Classified. I was just the guinea pig. I had no need to know." Vicki stood and started to pace as she smoked, "Okay. Sara also said something about psychological conditioning. Where does that fit into the mix?" He folded his hands on the arm of the chair and said, "Films designed to stimulate the neurotransmitters of the brain with images that create obedience and aggression. Triggers using specific sound frequencies and strobe lights." Vicki squeezed his shoulder, "Guess you steer clear of discos, huh?" He smiled, "I'd steer clear of discos if I was normal, Vicki."

She sat back down in the chair and looked at him, "To tell you the truth, Ian, this stuff is way out of my league. I'll see what your blood tells me, but I think you guys should start looking for experts in the fields that were used on you." Ian stood and took her hand in his, "Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it." She squeezed his fingers, "Hey, we pirates have to stick together, don't we? I'll give Sara the results as soon as I can. Where are you headed now?" He turned back to her from the doorway and said, "Shopping. Would you please tell Sara that I left her the car and that I'll see her at home?" "Sure. Take care," Vicki replied. "At home?" she thought.

Around early afternoon, the workload picked up and Sara didn't get a chance to call Vicki until after 4:00. Vicki gave her Ian's message and then asked, "So, you two are living together now? When did that happen?" Sara cleared her throat and said, "When I couldn't let him go back to Irons again, Vick." "You asked me once to be the voice of reason for you, remember?" Vicki said, "Now, don't get me wrong, Pez. I like Ian a lot." "But?" Sara asked. "But, if half of the things that were done to him worked, this is one very dangerous man," Vicki replied, "Someone that you definitely don't want out of contin yin your home and your bed. Just something to keep in mind." Sara said, "I hear you, Vicki. Thanks for everything you're doing for us. I won't forget it."

When Sara opened the door to the loft about 7:00, she was feeling tired and a bit discouraged. The first thing that she noticed was that there was a big pile of boxes and bags stacked in the corner ready to go out to the trash. The next thing that she noticed was the wonderful smell. "Ohhhh," she thought, "that's got to be spaghetti and meatballs, with maybe some garlic bread thrown in." During one of their late night talks, she and Ian had traded favorite foods – spaghetti and meatballs was right near the top of her list. She took off her coat and hung it on the rack; then unstrapped her gun and dropped it on the coffee table. On her way to the kitchen, she saw that the table was set, and included candles and a bottle of red wine, open and breathing.

His back was to her. He was stirring therce rce of that wonderful smell in her big stockpot; the one that she never used. She noticed that he was finally out of the black sweats he'd been wearing for the last few days. She smiled and thought, "Knowing Ian, he probably burned them." He was wearing tight jeans that must have been very expensive because they didn't look new. He'd paired them with a soft-looking dark gold sweater that probably brought out the highlights in his eyes. His feet were bare. She came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. She rested her cheek against his back and hugged him. Love for him had just suddenly swamped her and she was overwhelmed.

"Hey, Nottingham," she whispered. He dropped the long spoon in the pot and turned in her arms, sliding his arms around her. "Hey, Sara," he whispered, bending down to kiss her hello.

After dinnIan Ian put the dishes in the dishwasher while Sara changed. Most of the cleanup was, of course, already done. When she was comfortable in sweats, she called to Ian, "C'mon, let's have a fashion show. Let me see what clothes you bought." Ian came out of the kitchen drying his hands on a towel, "I don't do shows," he said, "It's all in the wardrobe there. Take a look if you want." Sara noticed the new addition to her loft for the first time – a floor to ceiling antiqherrherry wardrobe that fit neatly in the corner and looked as if it had always been there.

She went over to take a look at the wardrobe and its contents. "So, all your things are together in this one piece of furniture," she said, "You don't need me to move my stuff from the closet or bathroom to make room?" Ian shook his head, "I know it's already been hard enough on you to adjust to having me around. I wanted to invade your space as little as possible." Sara smirked, ", Lo, Lord knows you're hard to live with, Ian. Coming home to dinner waiting for me. Waking up to coffee and pastry in the morning. Then there's all the great sex. You've just made a mess of my life." He went to put the towel back in the kitchen, throwing over his shoulder, "You forgot to mention the nightmares and weird psychotic breaks."

Sara went to sit on the sofa and called to him, "Come here and talk to me." He came and sat on the sofa beside her, putting his arm around her. She snuggled up against him. "Ummm," she said, "I really like this sweater. It's soft. And you smell really good." He smiled. "So, how did it go with Vicki today?" she asked. "Fine," he replied, "She suggested that we try to find an expert to help with the conditioning. That's probably a good idea." "Sounds like a plan," she said, "And, while you look into that, I'm going to swing by to talk to Gabriel tomorrow." She felt Ian stiffen slightly.

She turned to look at his face but he dropped his head. "Is there something going on between you and Gabriel?" she asked. "That's what I was going to ask," he responded. "Oh, c'mon," she said, playfully tickling his side. But apparently he wasn't in the mood because he pulled back from her. "You're not jealous of Gabriel, are you?" she asked. And now, she remembered the byplay between Ian and Gabriel under the bridge when they were on the run with the Kennedy tape. She touched his chin and turned his face to hers, looking into tired golden eyes. "Gabriel's my friend, Ian. That's it – although I certainly shouldn't have to justify it," she said, "And, I'll chalk your lack of faith in me up to the fact that you're really stressed out right now." "I'm sorry," he said, "What are you going to ask him to do?"

"Research – into two areas," she replied, "First, I'm going to ask him to see what he can find on BlacBlack Dragon project. I know it's a long shot because the files are probably classified or unavailable. But it's worth a try." "And second?" he asked. "I want him see what he can find out about the Witchblade and its healing powers," she said, "It's healed you twice now. Again, I know it's a long shot. I'd think that it would have "fixed" your conditioning when it healed you if it saw that as an injury. Still, there may be something we haven't thought of or tried."thatthat moment, the phone rang. His entire body tensed as if it had been galvanized. She grabbed his arm and said, "It's mine, Ian." Still tense, he asked, "Where's my phone?" She stroked the rigid arm she still held and said, "I got rid of it. It's okay. I've got to get that. It could be the job."

She went to get her cell phone from the pocket of her coat. "Pezzini," she said into the phone. "Hey, Pez," Vicki said, "How's it hanging?" "On the edge at the moment, Vick," she replied, glancing worriedly over her shoulder. "Well, I might have some good news," Vicky said. "That would be a welcome change," Sara responded. "I remembered seeing something in one of my medical journals about some guy at NYU," Vicky said, "I found the journal and it turns out that he's one of the world's foremost experts on behavioral conditioning. Although he's mostly worked with cults, the principles are the same. I'd think that he'd be thrilled to have someone like Ian to work with. If you want, I can try to contact him tomorrow. These academic types sometimes respond better if it's another doctor calling. What do you think?" "I think that you're a very good friend," Sara said, "Go for it." They said their goodbyes and Sara went back to the sofa.

She dropped the phone on the coffee table and sat back down beside Ian. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, "Vicky?" he asked. Sara didn't cuddle back under his arm this time. "Yeah," she said, distractedly, "She's got a line on some guy at NYU who's an expert on behavioral conditioning. She's going to try to contact him for us tomorrow." "She's a good person," he said, "Are you mad at me?"

"He can seem like such a little boy sometimes," she thought. "No, I'm not mad at you. You're all tied up in knots, aren't you?" she asked. He cleared his throat and said, "I guess I'm a little bit tense. I didn't know that you'd gotten rid of my phone. When I heard the ring, I thought I might…" "I know what you thought," seplieplied, "He can't get at you that way again, at least not here." Ian shrugged, "Then he\justjust find another way, another place. He won't give up that easily." "I know, baby," she said, stroking his shoulder, which felt like solid wood. "My god, Ian," she said, "You really are tight. Take off your clothes and lie on the bed." He blinked, "What?" "I'm going to give you a massage," she said, "I actually used to be pretty good at it." "Sara, you don't need to…," he began. When he saw her frown, he got up from the sofa without another word and pulled off his sweater.

While he got undressed, Sara went rummaging in the bathroom for a bottle of sandlewood massage oil that she'd stashed in there once upon a time. By some miracle, she found it. When she came out, Ian was in bed with the sheet pulled up around his middle. She looked at it and said, "Off. And turn over on your stomach." He studied her for a moment, gauging her mood, then kicked off the sheet and flipped over. She appreciated the sculpted lines of him, fighting the lust that had automatically kicked in. Trying to clear her mind, she poured some of the oil into her hands and put the bottle on the bedside table. She climbed onto the bed, straddling Ian's hips. "Maybe this is going to be more fun that I thought," she heard him mumbrom rom where his head rested on his arms. Sara smiled.

She started with his shoulders, digging deep into the bunched muscles there; then she worked on his neck, which was like a block of oak. By the time she got to the small of his back, she was on her third handful of oil and he was making a sound like a deep purr. Under her probing fingers, his whole body vibrated with it. She slid down to sit on the back of his thighs and he said, "This would feel a lot better if you'd take off those sweats." She leaned down lacelace a kiss on his cheek. He laughed, relaxed, "What was that for?" "Just for having such a beautiful behind," she said, starting to massage it.

After a moment, he said breathlessly, "Why don't you let me do you when you're done with me?" She snorted, "Like you really think we'll get that far." "What do you mean?" he asked. She stopped her massage to slide a hand between his thighs and beneath him. When she pulled it back out and continued the massage, she said, "Uh huh." He laughed. "Well, what do you expect?" he d. \d. "I can control myself long enough to give you a massage." "Sure you can," she scoffed. "Bet," he responded. "Okay," she said, "If you can hold out long enough to give me a full massage after I finish with you, I'll tell you something about me that I've never told anyone else every night for a week. If you can't, you have to do the telling. Bet?" "Bet," he countered.

Sara smiled. "Turn over," she said. Ian rolled over and it became very obvious that her massage had done more than relax him. Sara's smile got broader. "Sucker bet," she said. "Just keep those magic fingers of yours away from that portion of my anatomy and I'll do fine," he replied. "And where should I sit to do youest?est?" she asked. He shut his eyes. "Thanks so much for putting that image in my head," he said, opening his eyes again, "You're not playing fair." "Never said I would," Sara responded. "Just sit on my stomach – high on my stomach," he said. Sara smiled lazily and straddled him again, brushing against his painfully hard erection in her effort to get comfortable. Ian moaned, "God, Sara, watch it," and clutched at the sheets with his hands. She chuckled, "You're off to a great start, ace."

From her position on top of him, Sara stretched to get more oil from the bottle on the table. Just before she poured more oil into her palm, she said, "I'm getting awfully warm now. Must be all this moving around." And she pulled off her sweatshirt and dropped it to the floor beside the bed. "Hey," Ian cried, "Don't do that." She widened her eyes innocy any and poured the oil, "I thought you wanted me to take off my sweats." Sara leaned down and began massaging the muscles of his shoulders, chest, and stomach, her breasts swaying and her nipples brushing tantalizingly against him. Of course, that contact was also affecting her but she wasn't nearly as close to losing it as he was. He'd shut his eyes again so that he couldn't see the temptation. His hands were white-knuckled where he clutched the sheets, fighting to keep them from cupping her breasts. He was breathing like he'd just run a marathon. Then, his breathing began to settle back to normal and she looked up into his calm face. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Meditating," he replied. "You're not playing fair," she said. He allowed the faintest smile to touch his lips, "Never said I would," he breathed slowly, mentally repeating a mantra.

"Okay, buster," she thought, "time to play dirty." Sara rolled off of him and pulled off her sweatpants and panties. She pushed his legs apart and sat between them. Startled golden eyes met smug green eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked. "The rest of you," she replied. He bent his knees to try to get leverage to sit up but she braced herself against them, pinning him down, and began massaging the muscles on the inside of his thighs. Her hair fell over his groin in a silken cascade and she felt a tremor pass through the muscles under her moving fingers. As those kneading fingers slowly traveled higher up his thighs, she heard his stranggroagroan, "Sweet Jesus," come from somewhere above her. "Is that part of your mantra, baby?" she asked, just before she leaned forward to engulf him in her warm mouth.

Before he could regain control of himself, his hips arched up to push him deeper into Sara's mouth. She pulled back, skimming along his hard length with just the edges of her teeth. A sound escaped him that was almost like a sob as she leaned forward to suck him deep into her mouth again, teasing with her curled tongue. "Sara, don't – stop," he moaned, burying both of his hands in her hair as his shoulders lifted up off the bed. She slid back, scoring him again with her teeth. "Which is it you want, pal?" she said when she could speak again. "You, I want you," he said desperately, leaning down to catch her under the arms and pull her up and onto him. As he rolled her onto her back and began to pump inside her, Sara dug her fingers into his hair and whispered in his ear, "You lose." He slid his hand down between them to stroke her hard, growling in her ear, "Whatever."

When they were lying side by side again, Sara raised up on one elbow to study him. "Well," she said, "I think we've worked out that tension. You look pretty relaxed to me." He didn't move a muscle. In fact, she had to look closely to see his lips moving as he said, "I've gone several levels past relaxed into liquid, I think." "So," she said, "I guess you better start lining up all those deep dark secrets to entertain me through the long, winter nights ahead." The corner of his lip turned up, "I've got enough of them to keep you going for months." She gently pushed a damp curl behind his ear, "My own perverted Scheherazade," she said. His eyes opened. "You've read "The Thousand and One Nights"? Ian asked. "Nah," she said. "I saw the movie," they said together. Sara laughed.

They lay quietly on the bed for several minutes. Sara thought that he'd drifted off to sleep, when he startled her by saying, "Roll over on your stomach."Wha"What?" she asked. "It's your turn," he said, reaching for the bottle to fill his palms with oil. "You can't redeem yourself now. You lost the bet," she said. "I accept that," he replied, "This isn't about the bet. This is about me giving you pleasure." She smiled, "You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you, ace?" she asked. "I know that I'm good with my hands," he said huskily, and Sara felt that little arrow of heat travel straight down her middle. "I'll just bet you are," she murmured, rolling over on her stomach.

She felt his warm fingers trail lightly in a whisper soft line down the center of her back, and shivered before she could stop herself. She heard him chuckle softly. She shut her eyes, thinking, "I'm in for it now." His hot, oiled hands fanned out across the center of her back, alternately caressing and kneading. They moved slowly up to her neck and shoulders; stroking, rubbing, and petting. Then, they traveled back down to just above her bottom. He pressed the heel of his hand into the small of her back and rubbed it in small circles there, rhythmically and sensually. In front, where she lay pressed into the bed, she felt a warm gush of arousal. "Dear god," she thought, "Did he say good with his hands? The man's an artist."

His hands moved over her bottom, stroking anddlindling, and she could feel his warm breath against her back. Then, taking her by surprise, his hand slid between her legs. She felt his arm slip beneath her to pull her back against him, while two fingers of his other hand pushed up inside her and his thumb began to rub her. Sara gasped and pushed herself against his fingers uncontrollably, forcing them deeper inside her as he began to slide them in and out. She pushed back against him, clutching the arm with which he held her, digging in her nails until she drew his blood. "Please, Ian, please," she keened. Pulling out hingerngers, he lifted her up and back against him, entering her from behind while he kept stroking her with his thumb.

Sara was absolutely frantic in her need for him. She pushed herself harder and harder back against him while he held her close to his body. Finally, desperate for release, she braced both arms on the bed beneath her, forcing herself back and up into him so that he filled her. It seemed that every muscle inside her spasmed in a wrenching orgasm. A second later, she felt Ian come deep inside her and collapse on her back, a dead weight. Sara could feel his uneven breath on her neck and could feel his heart pounding against her back. She lay quietly for a minute until she started to have difficulty breathing with his weight pushing her into the bed.

"Baby, I love you dearly and you're the most incredible lover I've ever had," she croaked, "But you need to move soon unless you're planning to flatten me." Ian immediately pulled out of her and rolled to the side, saying, "God, Sara, I'm sorry. Are you alright?" She responded with a muffled groan into the pillow. Several moments of silence passed before she heard him say, "I am?" in a tone of sheer wonder. "You are what?" she murmured, already half asleep. "'The most incredible lover' you've ever had," he said. She smiled and snuggled close to his warm, hard body as he wrapped his arms around her tight. "Ummm," she whispered, "Just one of many reasons why I'm not about to let that asshole Irons take you away from me now." "He'll have to kill me to make me leave you," Ian whispered into her hair. "It's not going to come to that, I promise," she whispered back, "Now go to sleep before I have to punch you out." Ian smiled and closed his eyes.