An Uncommon Sense (11 page)

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.”

She met his eyes and smiled. Well, Mia
had
told her to find out more about him. “All right.”

He grinned then, so obviously happy at her decision it made her laugh. “Where’s my T-shirt?” he asked, turning and scanning the floor.

“In the hall.” She watched him retrieve it, cheeks warming at the thought of how she’d ripped it off him, how abandoned she’d felt. He made her forget her inhibitions and her self-consciousness. She never thought she’d meet a guy she’d feel so comfortable with.

He came back in with her glasses and handed them to her before pulling on his T-shirt. She slid the glasses on and followed him out into the kitchen. He patted the worktop, and she lifted herself up onto it as he opened the fridge and frowned, studying the contents.

Grace watched him take out tomatoes, mushrooms, onions and zucchini, noticing the way his T-shirt stretched across his muscular arms and chest as he reached up to grab some pasta from the cupboard. He was so gorgeous. She still couldn’t believe he was interested in her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as he began to chop an onion.

“That you could star in one of those Hollywood movies about Roman gladiators or Viking warriors. You have impressive muscles.”

He gave her an amused look. “Thank you.”

“Do you work out?”

“I try to keep fit. Healthy body, healthy mind, you know?”

“Hmm.” She watched him put half a dozen tomatoes in a bowl, then pour boiling water from the kettle over the top. “What meat are you going to use?”

He started to slice mushrooms. “I wasn’t going to use any. You told me you were a vegetarian.”

She smiled. “You remembered? Impressive.”