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He didn’t respond to her jab. Better to give her space to assemble her thoughts, let the silence expand to an uncomfortable level until she gave up more than she intended. It was an interview technique he’d often used with great results.
“I didn’t mean that as an insult,” she said at last. “It’s just that I like everything organized and predictable. You thrive on the unexpected.”
“It’s what makes life interesting. Some of my best recipes have come from putting together flavors that I’ve never tried before.” Hell, his entire career had been framed by a combination of happenstance and his ability to capitalize on all things unconventional. “And I never would’ve made a career out of cooking if I hadn’t run away from home at fifteen and needed to survive.”
She didn’t look at all surprised by what he’d told her. “I’ve never wanted to be in a desperate situation, so I never have been.” The rest of her admission remained unspoken, but her expression was easy to read.
“And now you’re wondering what you’ve missed?”
“I’m fully aware of what I’ve missed. I’ve made sacrifices to keep on track with my goal.”
“To run the company someday.”
“It was my job to win or lose.”
“Has that changed?”
“You must have guessed that it has or I wouldn’t have come here tonight and cried all over you.” She stepped back and gathered her soft sweater tight about her slim body. “I found out something today that I’m not ready to talk about.”
“Use me as a sounding board or keep everything bottled up. It’s no matter to me.”
“I guess I should say thank you.”
“There’s no need. As you probably already figured out, I’m a selfish bastard. If a beaut
iful woman comes to me for comfort, I’m going to enjoy every second of the time she spends in my arms.”
“And if she decides to let you comfort her through the night?”
“All the better.”
“How do women manage to resist you?”
“Usually they don’t.”
“So I’m an anomaly?”
“In a class all of your own.”
She put her hand on the door handle once again, and this time Ashton didn’t stop her. He’d learned to coax the flavor out of food. Forcing something to happen often led to an inferior outcome and above all else, he wanted the first time he made love to Harper to be a moment she’d never forget.
* * *
Harper couldn’t make herself open the door. Her body ached for his touch. Last night when they’d kissed she’d been able to resist him—just barely. But she’d been nervous about being discovered and had no intention of being seen accompanying Ashton to his suite.
Would it be any better if she was seen exiting his suite in the morning? No, but she was on the verge of not caring.
He must have picked up on her ambivalence because he gently pried her fingers from the handle and dropped a sizzling kiss in her palm. She melted beneath the heat of his gaze and didn’t protest when his fingers sought the small of her back. Nor did she resist when with a soft groan he pulled her torso up and firmly into his body.
“Ask me again to stay,” she whispered, exhilarated by the leashed passion vibrating in Ashton’s muscles.
She dug her fingers into his biceps as he set his open mouth on her neck. The sweep of his tongue against her skin made her moan. Her breasts felt heavy as his arm tightened around her, his chest pushing into her as his breath deepened. The burn beneath her skin made the touch of her clothes unbearable. She needed them gone. Needed to feel his naked flesh against her.
She was half out of her mind with hunger by the time he murmured, “Stay.”
“Okay.”
He swept her off her feet before the word faded. The air around her cooled as his long, rapid strides brought them to the bedroom. With gentleness she never imagined he possessed, he laid her on the mattress and braced his hands on either side of her head. Wondering what he was up to, she peered at his looming form from beneath her lashes. The intensity of his stare ramped up her desire to be utterly devoured by him.
