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She dated guys who had the same expectations as her: none.
She dated guys nothing like Aidan.
So yeah, she knew exactly why she’d spelled it out for him that she didn’t need romancing, but there was no way she’d tell him.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’m just not very good at all this couple stuff.”
His grip on her hand tightened as he tilted her chin up to stare deep into her eyes. “Maybe you just need practice?”
She gulped, captured by the heat radiating from him like warming rays from a welcome winter sun, terrified he’d virtually verbalized her greatest fear: he wanted more from this—thing…fling…whatever she wanted to pass it off as—than she did.
Breaking the hypnotic eye contact by stepping back and swinging their linked hands like a preschooler, she said in an all-too-bright voice, “Let’s take a look around.”
To his credit he didn’t push her for answers despite the curiosity clouding his eyes, and tugged her toward the door.
“Living room.” He pointed through a door on the left and she darted a quick glance around, taking in the pine floorboards, Persian rug, tatty cream sofa, crammed bookshelf, open fireplace fanned by a gold peacock guard, a model of an old steam ship, and a mantelpiece adorned with several rather ugly statues and figurines, immediately struck by how different this was from her place.
Old versus new, antique versus contemporary. The contrasts served to reinforce the yawning gap between the two of them. Aidan versus Beth.
The thought saddened her more than she thought possible for a carefree type of girl.
“This is the den.”
She peeked through the door and spotted more antiques, crammed bookshelves, and old paintings.
They strolled the corridor to the next open door.
“Spare bedroom,” he said.
She barely gave the boring beige room a glance, increasingly nervous as they reached an ornate door at the end of the hallway that had to lead to the master bedroom.
“My room,” he murmured, with the faintest hitch in his voice.
Closing her eyes for an instant, she pictured black satin sheets, ruby red scatter cushions, and mirrored ceilings.
A girl could fantasize, couldn’t she?
“It’s not that scary.”
His amused tone alerted her to the fact he’d sprung her daydreaming.
“Says you. For all I know you probably have a fully equipped dungeon in there.”
His eyebrows shot up and she laughed at his horrified expression.
“Relax, I’m kidding. Somehow, I can’t see you as the bondage type.”
His eyes darkened with mystery and she swallowed, all too aware of their proximity and the fact there was probably a bed with their names written all over it behind the door.
“I’m not. Though the odd silk scarf or two might come in handy…”
Her breath caught as he slid an arm around her waist and drew her close, slanting a slow burning kiss across her lips, the type of kiss designed to stoke her fire, a kiss that turned her into a quivering mess with the barest flick of his tongue against her lips.
“Have you ever been tied up?” He whispered against the corner of her mouth, his breath sweet from the chardonnay, his piquant aftershave with a hint of blackcurrant intoxicating.
Her eyes fluttered shut as he kissed his way toward her ear lobe, and the instant they closed she could envisage the two of them in vivid detail: naked, her lounging back on satin sheets, Aidan over her, tugging gently on purple silk binding her to a wrought iron bed…
“You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.” He pulled away as she opened her eyes to find him staring at her with concern.
