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That wouldn’t be the same with Ainsley. And yet a part of him believed that it would be. That she’d be like every other relationship in his life. He was used to expecting nothing from them.
“Why are you helping me walk out of the restaurant?” she asked.
“So every man in the place knows that you are with me.”
“Am I with you, Steven?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Just for tonight?”
“No. I want to have you by my side again. I have to go to a reception for my mother next Tuesday evening at Oxford. Would you like to accompany me?”
They stepped out into the March evening. It was damp and chilly and Ainsley shivered. If they had a different kind of relationship, he would have wrapped his arm around her. But then, he thought, to hell with that. He put his arm over her shoulder and drew her against the curve of his body.
She shuddered and looked up at him.
He read the same desire in her expression that he’d been battling all night. Her deep violet eyes revealed that she was thinking of him as a man—not an interviewee—and he knew that he’d do anything to keep that interest alive.
With the gentle pressure of his arm on her shoulder, he steered her down the street to where he’d parked his car. When they got to his car, she stopped and turned, trapped between his body and his vehicle.
“What do you want from me?” she asked. Her voice was soft and low. There was none of the confident executive that he’d first met in the Everest Mega Store this afternoon. Instead, there was a woman who showed him a hint of vulnerability. And that touched him.
He brushed the softer emotions aside—he didn’t like them. He touched the rounded apples of her cheeks, ran his finger over that arch down toward her ear. “Right now I want a kiss.”
“Just one?” she asked. She licked her lips, a slow sensual movement of her tongue that made him groan inside. Her tongue was delicate and pink and he wanted to feel it on his skin. He wanted her to taste him the same way. And he needed to taste her in return.
With those full lips and her sexy smile…What would she taste like?
“To start,” he said.
He traced the line of her neck with his fingertip and along the hairline of her high ponytail where her hair met her skin. She shivered a little and licked her lips again. Then she leaned toward him, not close enough that their bodies brushed, but closer.
He kept his light touch on her face. Just taking his time. All the best things in life took time. He’d never gone for instant gratification, but this time he was tempted to. He made himself wait, though. Patience always paid off.
He traced the vee at the top of her blouse. Her breasts were large, full and he didn’t come close to touching them, but he wanted to. Instead, he contented himself with the soft tender skin of her chest, that area exposed by her blouse.
Then he leaned toward her and she tipped her head back and went up on her toes. He looked down into her upturned face. Her eyes were half closed and he had that momentary surge of lust that always assailed him when he was close to tasting a new woman.
She put her hands on his shoulders as he hesitated, drawing out the moment, and lifted herself even higher so that he felt the brush of her warm breath against his mouth. But he pulled back.
He would decide when they had their first kiss. He would set the tone and the timbre of the embrace. And he wanted to make sure that Ainsley knew he was in charge.
Starting where he’d first touched her with his finger, he followed the same path with his lips, caressing his way with nibbling kisses to her ear.
He blew gently into her ear. “Do you want me?”
“Yes…”
“Good.”
Four
There was nothing she could do but Steven’s bidding. She’d lost all sense of place and self as he touched her face. She knew that she’d do whatever he asked her to as long as he kept touching her. If only he’d kiss her. She wanted to feel that firm hard mouth against her own.
But he kept teasing her. When he bit her ear, she gasped his name and felt a bolt of pure desire go through her. Her breasts felt fuller, her blood raced through her veins and between her legs she felt moisture as her body readied itself for him.
Which was ridiculous—she wasn’t about to sleep with Steven Devonshire. Or was she? She might, she thought. Immediately, her mind focused on the potential conflict of interest created by the article. The writer would simply mention that she and Steven…what? Slept together? She knew that would hurt the journalistic integrity of the piece, but the article was really more focused on the mothers.
Before she could ruminate on it any more, she felt his mouth on her neck. He ran a line of kisses down the length of her neck and then at the base she felt the warmth of his tongue. She shuddered again.
