Eyes of Ice (Eyes of Ice Erotica Series) by Emily Rose Page A

reply. “We shall discuss this at our next meeting.”
    “Understood,” Andrew replied shortly.
    That was all. The president was clearly through with the exchange, for she turned to a tall man to their left and began a new, unrelated conversation.
    A moment later, Andrew and Cecelia were heading for the door. Slowly, yes, stopping every now and then so that Andrew could contribute minimally to clan member’s discussion or to greet a friend, but they were definite making their way toward the exit, Cecelia noticed with relief.
    He led her to the car, and Cecelia all but collapsed in the back seat, exhaustion taking over momentarily. But only momentarily, for Andrew was kissing her before the driver had reached the first stoplight, and Cecelia would not dream of protesting. Like the day before, his kisses erased all sensation of the outside world, consuming her. They grew closer and closer together in the back seat of the car, until Cecelia felt Andrew’s weight on top of her – not his whole weight, but the pressure of him, moving smoothly against her in a rhythm of his own.
    “Andrew,” Cecelia whispered, as he kissed his way up her neck, and she felt she might cry out unintelligibly. He drew back, his eyes glittering in the darkness, and she could not tell if they were black, could only feel his warm breath on her face and his strong hands; one on her waist, the other on her bare shoulder.
    “Yes?” he murmured.
    Cecelia gulped. “I just … wanted to say your name,” she mumbled, tensing with embarrassment. The driver was a few feet away, behind a black , soundproofed pane of glass, and the back seat of a moving vehicle had never felt so intensely intimate.
    “I like that,” he whispered back to her. “Will you say it again?” It was half request and half a question. He dropped his lips to her ear, running his tongue along her earlobe and his fingers along her collarbone.
    “Andrew,” Cecelia whispered back, and felt him tense against her, now. The car jerked to a halt, and Cecelia knew that they had arrived at Andrew’s apartment.
    “Devon will be at Alexandra’s,” Andrew told her, quietly, still on top of her. His face was close to hers, his lips an inch from her own as he gazed into her eyes searchingly. “I want you.”
    Cecelia’s breath caught in her throat. “Take me.”
     
     
     
     
    Five
     
    They entered his apartment in a rush, Andrew’s movements again too quick for Cecelia to follow with her eyes. At Andrew’s touch to a small control panel by the door, the lights lowered to a soft, amber glow, but this was all that Cecelia had time to register. Andrew had swept her effortlessly off her feet and carried her to the center of the room, where they stood, kissing, for a long moment. Cecelia’s hands were pressed to Andrew’s chest when Andrew’s hands drifted from her waist to linger upon her thighs. Cecelia trembled.
    “Cecelia, this is your first time,” Andrew said. “I understand if you’re frightened.”
    “I trust you,” Cecelia said.
    “I’m not sure I trust me,” Andrew said, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. “I’m not … good, like you.”
    Cecelia blinked up at him. “I don’t need you to be,” she informed him, her voice just above a whisper. “I don’t want you to be.”
    A noise halfway between a growl and a moan emerged from him, and the hair on the back of Cecelia’s neck stood on end. Before she had much time for fear, Andrew gripped her legs tightly and lifted her from the floor once more. A burst of movement and they were in Andrew’s room; he laid her upon the bed and on his knees at her side, reached for the neckline of her dress. In a moment he had pulled it down to her waist, exposing her bare skin to the amber lighting, and self-consciousness flickered over Cecelia. No one had ever seen her close to this naked before.
    Skillfully, Andrew parted her legs and moved his hips between them, pushing against the folds of her once-flawless