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She poured them each a glass of wine and then took a deep breath before going back out into the living room. It would be so much easier for her if Steven Devonshire were just another man. Instead he was the man. Oh, my God, she thought. He was the one she wanted out of all the other men. And that made this night so important to her. A first kiss only happened once—and that had been eminently memorable. So did a first-time sharing each other’s bodies. She wanted that to be perfect as well.
Steven knew he could easily push Ainsley’s shyness aside by kissing her until she had no choice but to be swept down the hall and into her own bed. But he wanted her to want to be there, comfortable in her own skin.
He loosened his tie and undid the first button of his dress shirt, then walked around her living room to the Bose stereo system where music played softly. In a cabinet next to the unit were her CDs and they were all lined up in alphabetical order. She had an eclectic collection, including a lot of old rhythm and blues CDs. Otis Redding, Ray Charles, Marvin Gaye and some of the classic Italian-American singers like Louis Prima, Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin.
There was Cold Play and Green Day in there, too. And some newer artists he’d never heard of. Seeing her music collection showed him that he’d only scratched the surface of who she was. Ainsley wasn’t a woman who was easy to know. He put on an Otis Redding album, turned off the larger overhead light and turned on the lamp on the side table.
The ambient light created the intimate mood he wanted. He thought about everything he knew about Ainsley, how she’d been fat, and that had virtually defined her. He’d been thinking a lot about the woman who’d interviewed him five years ago. He’d been telling her the truth when he’d said that she’d seemed invisible. But he had started to wonder if he’d done anything to contribute to that. Had he simply ignored her because she wasn’t slim?
He couldn’t change the past, but he intended to make sure that she knew he wanted her now. She’d have no doubts that he loved her and her body. He’d do everything in his power to make sure that she got lost in his embrace. That she didn’t have time to think about her past or any of her imagined flaws.
She came back into the room and hesitated in the doorway. She held two glasses of wine and her expression was a mix of bravado and desire. Clearly, she wanted him—probably with the same intensity as he wanted her, though he found that hard to believe. No way could she want him as much as he wanted her.
He walked over to her and took one wineglass from her.
“I hope you like white wine.”
“I do,” he said. He put his hand on the small of her back and led her into the living room. She perched delicately on the edge of the love seat, her legs crossed demurely, and he felt as if he were back in his aunt Lucy’s drawing room.
He took her hand and drew her to her feet. He might not be much of a dancer, but he could sway with the best of them. And he knew the surest way to coax Ainsley out of her reserve was by putting his arms around her.
“To a lovely evening,” he said, raising his glass to hers.
She clinked her glass to his and took a sip. So did he, draining half the glass and setting it on the side table. He took hers and did the same. Then he came back behind her and pulled her into his arms. Her back against his chest.
He lowered his head next to hers and whispered sweet nothings to her, bending his knees to spoon her while they were standing there together. He wrapped his arms around her, letting his thumb and hand rest under her right breast, his other hand on her abdomen.
He swayed back and forth to the music and felt her relax against him. He put his mouth on her neck right at the base and kissed her, then let her feel the edge of his teeth.
He felt her breast jump in his hand and she shifted her hips to rub against his erection. He hardened and his blood ran heavier. Every instinct he had told him to hurry this up.
But he’d learned over time that he enjoyed his orgasm more if he drew it out. He continued swaying with her and found the buttons of her blouse with his left hand. Slowly he undid them. He left the blouse tucked into her skirt but unfastened it all the way.
Her skin was lily white and soft. So soft that he couldn’t stop caressing her. He traced a path up the center of her body from where her belly button was to her rib cage to the sin-red bra that encased her full breasts. He traced his finger over the underwire that supported her. Then he skimmed the edge of the lace where it met the creamy skin of her chest. He let his forefinger dip under the fabric to caress her creamy breasts.
She rotated her shoulders, seeming to want his touch to move to her breasts, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. He nibbled on her ear and kept his finger moving slowly over that part of her breast. Then he inched his way to the velvety skin of her nipple, touching her carefully when she jerked in his arms. Her hips swiveled against his and her hands came to his wrist to grip him.
