Ian leaned closer. His expression determined to know her meaning. “What might ruin everything?”
“Getting involved. Having sex.”
Ian swallowed. She almost felt sorry for him. After all, she’d brought out all the big weapons a woman possessed. She knew how to use them.
Ava wanted to make him burn. She wanted him to want her so badly he thought of nothing else.
She wanted to feel it, too.
He flashed her a sexy, crooked smile. Ahh, men must have that move ingrained in their DNA. Crooked smiles made a woman think mischievous. And mischievous suggested all kinds of naughty and delightful things between the sheets.
“Let’s get out of here,” he ordered, his voice deep and seductive.
“I still have my drink,” she told him, not the least bit thirsty.
His eyes grew alarmed. “Leave it. I’ll buy you another. That’s a modern dating tip. Never leave your drink unattended then consume more.”
“It seems such a waste.”
“I’ll show you what’s going to waste.” Ian lowered his head, his lips lightly brushing hers. “Still thirsty?” he asked against her mouth, his breath a warm caress against her cheek.
She shook her head.
“Good.” He reached for her hand again, leading her through the couples and weaving between the tables until they were outside.
The cold chill of the winter air nipped at her skin, but she didn’t feel a thing. That light teasing kiss Ian had given her had heated her from the inside, and she was ready for more.
The Bricktown sidewalks teemed with activity. The bright streetlights illuminated their path as they made their way amongst the other late-night revelers. The street vendors had gone, replaced by rickshaws. A police officer patrolling on his bicycle rode past as they walked toward her building.
Any other night she’d want to take it slow. Enjoy the ambiance and people watch. But this wasn’t any ordinary night. Tonight Ian held her by the hand, and she was ready for him to demonstrate the promises his body had made to her on the dance floor.
Everything about him suggested he’d be an unselfish lover. And could there be anything sexier than a man who cared about his woman’s pleasure?
In what felt like way too long a walk, they approached her apartment. In the shadows he pulled her into his arms. Ava stretched, looping her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. Their gazes locked briefly in the moonlight.
“You want me to tell you how I kiss a woman, Ava?”
No. She wanted him to show her. Right now.
“I touch her face. Cup her cheek. Then I let my hands slide down her shoulders. Her arms. Just a gentle glide. Make her feel comfortable. Let her know I’d never do anything she doesn’t want me to do to her body.”
His actions, followed only seconds after his words, was utter seduction, drawing out her anticipation, making her ache to feel what he described.
“I stop at her waist. That safe spot between your hips and your breasts is pure temptation. I can move my hands up or down and be in heaven.”
When had he stopped talking in the abstract? Now he was talking only about her. How parts of her were heaven to him. Some of those parts started to get really excited about the prospect.
“What shall it be?” he asked, his gaze lowering to her lips for a moment before returning to her eyes.
He didn’t wait for her response. His fingers cupped her hips and he drew her closer. The tips of her breasts brushed his chest, her nipples hardening at the contact. Her eyes drifted shut for a moment at the exquisiteness of the sensation. As a scientist, she’d studied gender response, researched the origins of customs related to sex and observed the intricate human behaviors that led to it, but experiencing her own response to Ian was intense.
His head descended, but instead of finding her lips, the firm softness of his mouth drifted along her neck. Tingles shot out to everywhere in her body.
“Remember you asked if I were up for the challenge? Could I give you pleasure here?” His breath sent a shiver down her sensitive skin.
His lips slid a slow path down her neck. Across the exposed area of her collarbone. She sucked in a breath when he followed with his tongue.
Yes. Ian Cole was definitely up for the challenge.
His hands caressed her through her shirt, running up and down her back. Shivers of sensation crisscrossed her spine.
“A less patient man might go straight for your mouth. A hard, hungry kiss to show you how hard and hungry I am. But I won’t do that.”
“You won’t?” she asked, unable to mask her disappointment.
“No, a woman like you appreciates a man willing to take risks, not give you what you expect.”
Ian kissed both of her closed eyes. The tip of her nose. Each time she sensed his lips getting closer to hers, she raised her mouth, tried to finally feel his lips.
When he began kissing her forehead she’d had enough. Ava opened her eyes to see Ian smiling at her. Gentle, as though he knew he’d been driving her crazy, but his eyes were dark, so she understood he had been waiting, just like her.
“Kiss me, Ian.”
“Just waiting for the invitation.” He lowered his head and his lips lightly touched hers. Brushed hers for a moment. Then his lips firmed and he kissed her. Passion ignited between them. Burned. Ian kissed her as if he’d rather kiss her than breathe.
Her fingers twined in the hair at his nape. Her heart pounded. The blood rushed in her ears. Ava pressed her body close.
Ian broke off the kiss. The heaviness of their breathing filled the night air. She moaned in disappointment.
“Ava, I haven’t shared with you the last tip,” he said.
Her lids lifted and she looked into his eyes, clearing away the confusion his kiss caused. “What?”
He dropped his arms. “Always leave them wanting more.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Good night,” he whispered.
After making sure she entered her building safely, Ian turned swiftly and headed back down the sidewalk in the direction of his hotel.
Her whole body ached with sexual frustration.
Irritation.
Aggravation made her movements jerky as she let herself into her apartment.
Annoyed—yes. Disappointed—for sure. But secretly impressed by his ability to turn the tables on her—yes, she was that, too. “Well played, Mr. Cole. Well played.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AVA SIMMS WAS ONE HELL of an adrenaline rush. Still, kissing her was not one of Ian’s best moves.
Actually, it had been a great move.
But walking away before he suggested something stupid like continuing their research up in her bedroom was his best move of the night.
Ava possessed the kind of lips that invited a man’s eyes. A call to investigate. Luckily, that fit right in with his chosen profession of journalist. He could easily spend the next few weeks working on her manuscript all the while exploring the woman. Studying the way her body matched perfectly to his. Or discovering new ways to have her make those sexy little sounds she’d made when their kiss deepened. Her soft moans fired something in his blood.
He could better use his time examining why she made him uneasy. As a reporter, Ian trusted his instincts when they warned him something wasn’t exactly as it appeared. And Ava Simms was definitely not the almost-mild-mannered anthropology professor she seemed.
Somehow he knew she’d been expecting him to make a move on her, had been building every moment they had together to that point. It was as if she had something to prove about the validity of her theories and ideas, and he was the guinea pig.
Normally, if a smart, desirable and beautiful woman wanted to test her sexual ideas on his body, who was he to get in the way of science?