Her question was supposed to tantalize him, but teased her with images of him giving her pleasure. With his mouth. With his hands. However he wanted to make her feel good.
“Yes,” he replied. His voice was filled with a charged promise. He leaned even closer.
She felt even more of his heat.
“Now I pull back,” she told him as she scooted away from him on her bar stool. Ava turned, positioning her chest toward the bar once more, even though she’d liked exactly where she’d been.
Confusion filled his eyes. “Why?”
Ava shrugged. This was the hardest to explain. Even to herself it felt strange. “Ancient female tests. I call it the Promise Withdrawal Cycle. It’s the promise for more intimacy quickly followed by withdrawal.”
Ian’s body stiffened. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. Women do that all the time. Why?”
“It’s a time-honed combination of playing hard to get and testing your staying power. To see if you’ll stick around. Of course, that was a lot more important when women stayed by the fire in the cave and couldn’t go out to hunt the mammoth themselves. A typical man will have two reactions. He’s either annoyed, or his interest is piqued even further. As a woman I note your expressions and your body language in less than a second. If you get frustrated, start looking around the room, I know you don’t have what it takes.”
“But if I lean closer, try harder…” His voice trailed off, but he followed up his words with actions. Ian lowered his head, his lips moved just above her ear. “Say something like, ‘Ava, I would never hurt you. I would only ever want to make you feel good.’”
His voice was a sensual caress, his words a sexy reminder of his tempered strength. She felt his breath on her skin. This man got what she was saying. A tiny thrill ran down her back. Her nerve endings reared up and she grew invigoratingly aware of his scent, the expression in his eyes and the subtle movements of his hands.
“I’ll invite physical contact. Most people think men are the true aggressors, but it’s really women who initiate that first touch. A mature man waits for the invitation, knows how to bide his time for the payoff. I might do something like reach over and pull off an imaginary thread from your shirt.”
Ava stretched her arm, her fingers lightly brushing his shoulders. She felt the muscles tense below her fingertips. She was affecting him, and that felt very, very good.
“Now that I have your full attention, I’ll take my drink, play with the straw, bring it to my mouth.”
His eyes shifted to her lips and he exhaled a breath.
Then back again to her eyes.
His pupils were more dilated.
“I want you to think about my mouth,” she explained as she sipped her wine. The waiter had looked at her as if she was crazy when she’d asked for the straw, but she knew what she was doing.
He ran a finger along the collar of his shirt. “I never knew how hot this flirting research could be.”
Her gaze was drawn to the skin below his ear. Would he be sensitive there, like her? His mouth thinned, as if he guessed her thoughts. Good. He was becoming more in tune with her. Of course, it wasn’t as if she were trying to hide that she was thinking about sex. Sex with him.
“Over time, women developed a set of skills to test men in a very short period of time. It’s a back and forth. I make a move, you make a move. It’s actually quite sophisticated. If it’s working, you’ll know we’ll be on the same page while in bed.”
His gaze heated. “You’re making me a believer.”
“There’s only one other sure way a woman can verify she’ll be compatible with a man before sex.”
His brows lifted. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
She eyed the couples out on the dance floor. Some moving with grace, others encompassing the more sensual movements. “We dance.”
“I’ll order you another drink.” Ian signaled for the bartender.
Ava frowned. “Why?”
“Modern dating tip. Men become better dancers as women drink more.”
Ava laughed. Not exactly the response from him that she’d been looking for—she’d been hoping he’d nearly yank her onto the dance floor so he could finally have her in his arms. But funny always worked in a man. “How many more drinks before you’re out under those flashing lights with me?”
“Oh, I’d say a lot.”
The bartender delivered another one of those green drinks and a shot of something for him. She sipped from her martini glass, loving the tart sweetness of it. Silence. It could be uncomfortable and awkward. But right now, it just stretched the anticipation, the wonder of what would happen next.
The tempo of the music changed, from hard drumbeats to soft, lilting guitar. The lights dimmed, and she imagined gliding around on the dance floor, his strong arms around her.
Something like determination molded his features. He downed his drink in a swallow, met her eyes then offered his hand.
With a half smile, she replaced her martini glass on the bar and stood. She lifted her fingers to his, and his hand engulfed hers in warmth.
He found a secluded spot on the dance floor where the lights were dimmer and drew her into his arms. Close, so she felt the heat of him, couldn’t miss the sexy scent of him. But not so close she felt intimidated by his size. Somewhere along the way, Ian Cole had picked up how to treat a woman.
They moved to the music slowly. “You’re a good dancer.” She looked at him with surprise after his dancing protests from a few moments ago.
Even in the low light, she could see the weird face he’d made at her compliment. “My father made sure my sister and I had dance lessons.”
“Actually, that’s a good thing. I’ll give you a tip. A woman can tell a lot by how a man handles himself while dancing. His confidence. How comfortable he feels with his own body. How he moves.”
“And how are my moves?” he asked as his fingers caressed the small of her back.
The man gave her shivers.
“Not bad. But it’s more than just your moves a woman is examining. You show me something about yourself as a man by not allowing other dancers to bump into me or take up our dancing space. A woman’s mind begins to imagine. Is he adventurous with his—”
“I’ll give you a tip.” His thumb traced her bottom lip and her words died. In fact, just what had she been going to say?
He drew her closer into the heat of his body. His gaze never left hers.
“Just dance with me,” he said. “No more talking about flirting. What we should be doing. I want only this.”
Ava closed her eyes when his fingers sank into her hair, the caress against her scalp. He drew her head to his shoulder, the softness of his shirt smooth under her cheek.
He was right. With his strong arms surrounding her, the brush of his thighs against her as they moved, the last thing she wanted to do was discuss the social importance of dancing. She wanted to experience the dance. And that was the first time she’d ever truly wanted to be a participant rather than a cultural observer.
The song ended, the tempo of the music quickened, and Ian led her off the dance floor, their fingers twined together. He wore the confident look of a man who had a woman exactly where he wanted her. Lesson number two for her. She finally understood the battle between the genders she’d observed earlier, and which Ian mentioned. The subtle love play that kept one partner as the lead.
She’d had the lead until the dance. She wanted it back. “Ian, I didn’t tell you the surefire way a woman secures a man’s attention.”
“One more might kill me,” he said, that sexy smile showing her he wasn’t really worried.
She drew her fingertips down his jaw, and his smile faded. “Make him know you’re a bad idea. Men always want what they shouldn’t have.”
He arched a brow. “Oh, yeah, like how?”
“By telling you the truth.” Ava tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, licked her lips and shyly met his gaze. Then she held it, angling her body toward him. All at once the shy seductress and bold temptress. “This isn’t a good idea. It might ruin everything. Our work,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.