“You’re welcome.” Grace smiled, trying to ignore the fact that her heart rate had suddenly doubled and her mouth had gone dry. “Hi, Liv,” she said as Jodi ran to open the front door and Ash’s sister came in.
“Hi, Miss Fox.” Liv grinned as Grace walked out into the hall.
“Oh please, call me Grace. Ash is the only adult who calls me that.”
“It’s the glasses,” said Ash, appearing from down the hallway. “They bring out the schoolkid in me.”
Liv laughed. “Come on, Jodi. I thought we’d take the boys down the bowling alley tonight, if you fancy it.”
“Yeah, sure.” Jodi pulled on her jacket and shoes.
“We won’t be back until at least eight,” said Liv. Her gaze met Ash’s and a silent exchange followed. Liv raised an eyebrow. Ash glared. Liv bit her lip. Ash gave a subtle shake of his head.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Have a good time.” He turned her around physically and pushed her toward the door.
Liv grabbed Jodi’s arm. “Come on, pumpkin. Daddy wants to be alone with Miss Fox.” The two of them giggled as they headed out the door.
Ash dropped his head in defeat, hands on his hips in what Grace was beginning to recognise was a stance that reflected his feelings of helplessness. She studied him, breathless, leaning on the wall, her hands tucked under her butt so they wouldn’t reach out for him. She should get her bag and books, and go. Right now. Go on feet, move.
After a moment, he turned his head to look at her. Her breath caught in her throat. His stormy-blue eyes were dark with lust.
“I should go,” she said weakly.
“Mm,” he said, although she didn’t think he’d heard her. His gaze had settled on her mouth. He wanted to kiss her. Part of her thought Yay! The other part thought Crap. He wasn’t cross with her and he didn’t want her to go.
“Um…”
He turned and walked over to her slowly. Grace’s eyes widened and she tried to move backward, but the wall wasn’t budging. He stood in front of her, lips pursed, his gaze running down to her stockinged feet, then back up to her face again. She’d forgotten how big he was, how broad his shoulders were. “I was supposed to meditate this afternoon,” he informed her.
“Did you have a nice time?” she asked lamely.
“No, I did not. I couldn’t do anything except wonder what underwear you have on beneath that blouse.”
“Oh.” She moistened her lips with her tongue, not missing his answering inhalation. She couldn’t believe she was going to say what she was about to say, but she wanted him so badly it hurt. “Well, you know what curiosity killed…”
His gaze met hers, and he reached out and slowly removed her glasses, dropping them onto the table by the door. He stared into her eyes for a good twenty seconds. As he did so, her breathing increased, as did his, and she saw the answering dilation of his pupils.
And then, oh, his lips were on hers and he was kissing her senseless. And even though he pressed her into the wall, and her heart pounded so hard she thought she might black out, she couldn’t have pushed him away for the world.
He cupped her head, wrapping the other arm around her waist, holding her tightly as if he were afraid she was going to fight him. But protesting was the last thing on her mind. She placed her hands on his chest, his muscles hard beneath her fingers like sculpted and baked clay, and then, desperate to touch him, to feel his skin, she slid her hands beneath his T-shirt, stroking her fingers along his tight, flat stomach and up over his ribs. She sighed, and he took advantage of her open mouth to deepen his kiss, brushing her tongue with his, making her head spin.
She tugged at his T-shirt, and he pulled back slightly so she could lift it over his head and throw it to the floor. His body was incomparable and he filled all her senses. He’d been cooking earlier in the day—she could smell the warm, comforting aroma of cookies or muffins, and the underlying bite of chocolate. He tasted of spearmint, clean and fresh. He felt divine. She wanted him—wanted his hands on her body, his mouth on her breasts—she wanted him deep inside her, wanted to watch him come. She kissed him urgently, running her hands up his chest, feeling the soft, light brown hairs, brushing his flat nipples. He twitched and growled, his lips leaving hers to kiss up her jaw to her ear.
“No fair.” He started to unbutton her blouse. “If I don’t see what you’ve got on under your clothes in five seconds, I swear I’ll explode.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” she said breathlessly, watching his hands fumble at the buttons, raising her head as he kissed her again.
He reached the last button and moved the sides of her blouse apart, pushing it slowly off her shoulders. Wordlessly, he slid the elastic of her skirt over her hips until that, too, fell onto the floor. She kicked it away, standing before him, still shy, embarrassed and yet thrilled by the admiration in his eyes.
“Wow.”
She gave a little laugh. She wore a plum-coloured stretch lace all-in-one with a matching garter belt underneath. The cups were underwired and everything was propped up and pushed out on display for him, the flimsy lace doing a rather pathetic job at containing her breasts, barely managing to cover her nipples. “Do you like what you see?” she asked boldly, tucking her hands under her butt again, knowing her breasts were about to pop out. A bit like his eyeballs.
He moved closer, pressing himself up against her, giving her a hot, exasperated smile. “What do you think?”
She moved her hips slightly against the firmness of his erection. “I think it gives me a whole new insight into John Lennon’s song ‘Norwegian Wood’.”
Ash laughed out loud. “You are just the perfect woman, you know that?”
“Hardly,” she murmured, but it was a nice thing to be told and her cheeks burned with pleasure.
He put his hands under her hips and lifted her, wrapping her legs around him. “Bedroom?” he murmured as she kissed him.
She lifted her head. “Um…”
The panic must have shown in her eyes, because he added, “Living room it is, then,” and walked with her into the room.
Grace sighed and kissed him again, loving the fact that he didn’t push her, didn’t question her, just accepted her little foibles and adored her for them. He walked to the plush cream leather sofa and turned and sat so she was astride him, running his hands up her lace-covered waist and ribs, sighing as she wriggled closer to him.
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him properly for a while, enjoying the slide of his hands over her and his occasional groan as she moved her hips against his. Then she left his mouth to scrape her lips along his light stubble and nibble around his ear.
He sighed. She lifted her head and looked down at him, slipping her hands into his hair. “What’s the sigh for?”
He stared at her helplessly. “You’re just so beautiful. I can’t believe my luck.”
He couldn’t believe his luck? Grace laughed. “You are so sweet.”
“I mean it.” He fanned his fingers around her ribcage, moving a hand up to trace his fingers lightly across the swell of her breasts. “I’m flattered you still want to have sex with me in spite of the fact that you think I’m a raving lunatic.”
“Certifiable,” she said lightly, but inside panic fluttered like a flag in the wind. She didn’t want him to remind her of what she really thought about what he did.
Luckily, Ash was happy to distract her from dwelling on the problem. He brushed his thumbs across her nipples, causing them to tighten in the lacy cups. Grace inhaled and wondered if he’d laugh at her obvious reaction to his touch, but he didn’t. He cradled her head in his hand and brought it down to kiss her tenderly, tasting her with a gentle slowness. He was so patient and kind, such a gentleman. She’d never met anyone like him. He was such a contrast to the moron she’d chosen to have a one-night stand with, it didn’t bear thinking about.
The tear ran down her cheek and onto his before she could stop it. He looked up at her, puzzled. “What’
s the matter?”
She wiped her face. “Sorry.”
“That’s not quite the reaction I was hoping for when I kissed you.” His wry tone belied his obvious concern.
“I’m fine. It’s just…” She looked down as he clasped her hands in his big paws. “You’re too nice. It catches me out every time. I’m…not used to it. It makes me melt.”
He studied her for a moment and she wondered if she’d put him off. Shit. Me and my big mouth.
He didn’t look put off, however, and the bulge in his pants certainly didn’t portray any lessening of desire. But his eyes took on a steely glint that made her grow suddenly wary. “‘Too nice?’” he quoted.
“Um…well…you know what I mean… I like it, Ash. I like that you’re nice…”
The steely glint didn’t disappear. If anything, it hardened. Like titanium. Symbol Ti, atomic number twenty-two. The hardest natural metal. Forty-five per cent lighter than steel.
Uh-oh, her brain was going into Chemistry Mode—that meant she was in trouble.
He didn’t say anything, though. He merely pulled her head down and kissed her again. But after a few seconds, she realised it was a different sort of kiss. He’d flipped a switch or something, because this kiss was red hot—no longer gentle and tentative, but hard and passionate, and desire shot through her like a ring-the-bell-with-the-hammer game in a fairground.
As he kissed her, he slid his other hand up to her breast and pushed aside the lace, cupping the weight of her breast in his palm, squeezing her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Grace gasped, but he didn’t release her, taking advantage of her open mouth to plunge his tongue in deeper. Her heart hammered, but he was relentless, and when he finally released her mouth it was only to trail his lips down to her breast before fastening his mouth over her nipple.
He pulled her hips forward, and he was hard against the soft, swollen part of her. The underneath of the body was soaked from her moisture, which he soon found out as he slipped a hand between them and slid his fingers down to explore her. Grace tipped back her head as he stroked her firmly, his mouth still hot on her nipple, and she shivered with sensation as he sucked hard while sliding his fingers deep inside her. His touch was insistent, demanding, and she knew it wasn’t going to be long before she came.
Just as everything began to tighten, however, he lifted his head and moved his arms around her. She sighed with disappointment and then squealed as he lifted her smoothly and moved forward onto his knees, lowering her onto the rug in front of the wood fire.
She looked to one side at the white fur. “A sheepskin rug? Really? That’s so nineteen-seventies.”
“I can put some Barry White on too, if you want.” He put on a deeper, gravelly voice as he kissed up her neck. “We got it together, baby.”
She laughed, but her amusement faded quickly as he leaned over her, bracing himself on either side with his big, strong arms. She ran her fingers up the hard, toned muscles, tracing his collarbone, then down to his nipples, circling them. He met her gaze, his eyes still hot, full of desire for her, and she sighed as he reached down and popped the buttons under her lacy body. He unzipped the combat pants and pushed his boxers down, and before she could comment on the fact that he wasn’t going to bother to undress, he was sliding inside her, right up to the hilt.
“Oh!”
He looked down at her smugly, as if he’d known this was what she wanted, even though she didn’t know it herself.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” she scolded breathlessly.
He laughed and moved inside her, and she wrapped her legs around him and stretched out beneath him, revelling in his warmth and strength and his obvious craving for her.
“You’re so damned beautiful,” he said, dropping to his elbows, bending his head to kiss her.
He was heavy, pressing her into the rug, but it only served to drive her wilder, and she met each thrust with a raise of her hips. He kissed her lips, her face, her neck, exploring her skin with teeth and tongue, nipping, biting, licking and basically driving her to a chemical reaction she was unable to escape—like dropping sodium into water, or… “Oh God.”
He thrust even harder, and Grace’s eyelids fluttered closed as heat pooled in her abdomen and her internal muscles tightened around him. She bit her lip hard to stop herself swearing, digging her fingers into his butt beneath his pants, realising as his muscles tensed that he’d reached his climax too. And then his mouth was on hers, and she felt consumed by him, overwhelmed by the smell and taste of him, and the satisfied, deep groans low in his throat as he pushed hard deep inside her, shuddering with the force of his orgasm.
Afterward, he kissed her as their breathing slowed, kisses now light and soft, apologetic kisses, tender kisses that told her he’d given her everything, and now he was worried he’d hurt her.
So she slipped a hand into his hair and kissed him back, letting him know that he hadn’t hurt her, and he was in fact the best medicine she’d had for a very, very long time. Maybe ever, in fact.
Chapter Nine
They lay on the sheepskin rug, looking up at the ceiling, holding hands.
“That is a truly awful lampshade,” said Grace, frowning at the cream, lace-frilled monstrosity.
“I’ve never actually looked at it before.” Ash glanced across at her. “But then I’ve never been in this position before, either.” He smiled, rolling onto his side, and lifted up onto an elbow so he could look down at her. He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”
“For giving me a mind-blowing orgasm?”
He grinned. “No. I’m not at all sorry for that.” He kissed her nose. “For being rough.”
Grace could have melted at that comment. “Oh, Ash, that was hardly rough. Believe me, I know.” She couldn’t stop the vehemence creeping into her words, and he frowned in response.
“You want to talk about it?”
She shrugged. “It was a mistake. I was trying to be…” She sighed. “Impulsive. I’ve been single since I was twenty-five—four years is quite a long time to be celibate.”
“Indeed.”
“I met him in a bar, got talking. He seemed nice. Mia had been teasing me that I expect guys to propose before I sleep with them, so I decided to be spontaneous.” Her cheeks grew warm. “It didn’t end well.”
Ash sighed. “I’m guessing he wasn’t quite the Casanova?”
“I think he assumed because I was so forward that I’d be more confident in bed. I wasn’t. I was very nervous. And…well, you can imagine the rest.”
He stroked her cheek again and kissed her lightly. “Poor Miss Fox.” He kissed her again. “The prick doesn’t have a clue what he missed out on.”
She gave a short laugh. “Nicely put.”
He trailed his fingers down between her breasts, across her stomach, circled her hipbone. “So who were you dating when you were twenty-five?”
“A guy called Todd. I saw him for just over a year. He seemed nice enough, a bit intense at times…” That was understating it, but she was giving the abbreviated version.
“So what went wrong?”
“I discovered he had a whole room full of books on psychopaths, mass-murderers and torture implements.” Ash’s face was a picture. “I know,” she said. “I tried not to jump to conclusions, thinking maybe he was doing some research for a book or something, but I couldn’t get the suspicion out of my head, and one night he wanted to tie me up. And we’re not talking silk scarves here—I could have coped with that. We’re talking handcuffs. And not fur-lined ones.” She pulled a face as he raised an eyebrow. “I left while he was in the bathroom, and I never went back. I left a note on his pillow. He didn’t even ring me.”
“I’m so glad,” he said, obviously relieved. “And before him?”
“Are you trying to ask how many guys I’ve slept with?”
“I’m trying to build up a picture.”
“Of my sex life?”
He smiled. “
Of you.”
She sighed. “Before Todd was Leon. He left me to go around the world with a circus.” She shook her head at his raised eyebrow. “Don’t ask. And before Leon was Ricky. I came home early from work one day and found him in my underwear.”
“Ah.”
“Yes.”
“So wearing your underwear’s out. Check.”
She smiled. “Are you making fun of me?”
“God, no.”
“Anyway, I didn’t leave him because of it. He looked quite good in black lace, actually.” She smacked him. “Stop laughing. I’m trying to explain. He left me. I was upset at the time, although it was quite nice to be able to keep my knickers to myself.”
He wrapped her in his arms and hugged her. “You said ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with another lunatic again.’ I wondered what you meant. Now I get it.”
His arms tightened and she buried her head in the crook of his neck. He still smelled of warm biscuits. It was a comforting smell. She couldn’t imagine anyone that smelled of warm biscuits ever doing anything to hurt her.
Oh no. She wasn’t going down that road. This is all about sex, kiddo. Don’t fool yourself.
She cleared her throat. “I’d better get up.”
He pulled back and sat up as she quickly popped the buttons underneath the body and then got to her feet. She collected her clothes from the hall and started to dress. He sighed. “Don’t go.”
“I should.”
He stood and zipped himself up. “I was just about to make dinner, if you want to stay.”
She hesitated. “Dinner?”
He looked up at the clock. It was five thirty. “An early dinner.”
Grace studied him. “You mean you’ll cook?”
“Of course. I’d like to. I haven’t cooked for anyone except Jodi for ages, and all she ever wants is Chinese food.”
Grace couldn’t stop her lips curving. “So what would you cook, if I stayed?”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be like a four-course meal or anything. It’ll have to be something easy.” He ran his gaze down her figure. “I won’t be able to concentrate knowing you’re standing there with that lacy thing on beneath your skirt.”
An Uncommon Sense: Sensual Healing, Book 1 Page 8
