“I don’t know if I could last a whole day,” he said next to her throat. His hand moved to cup her breast, his thumb finding and circling her nipple.
She cried out at the hot pleasure of his touch. “I have faith in you.”
“Glad someone does,” he said as his lips claimed hers once more.
This was no playful, teasing kiss. Ian almost growled when she touched her tongue to his. She hadn’t expected the near-instant sexual connection she’d have with Ian to be so strong. So primal.
But sometimes that’s what you got, and it was a rare, precious thing, so why not go for it? His fingers dipped for the ties holding the Hidali costume in place. “I had about a million reasons in my mind why we shouldn’t have sex.” His whispered words sent a thrill through her veins.
“Me, too.”
His gaze sharpened. “You did? You’ve been thinking about having sex with me, but discounted it?”
She blinked up at him, missing the heat that was now fading in his eyes. “Sure. I want you. DNA programming. I found you attractive the moment you spoke.”
His eyes narrowed. “So, it’s just biology? Has nothing to do with me…personally.”
“That’s right. Sex is a normal, natural part of life. If I’ve observed anything since I’ve been back, it’s that people seem to make such a big deal about doing the deed,” she said with a shrug.
He didn’t respond for a moment, as if he were considering her words carefully. “Well, if it’s just sex, a totally biological function, then let’s do it.”
“Do what?”
A dark flame lit in his brown eyes. “Let’s have sex. Right here. We don’t even have to break out the paints. Just you, me and that rumble-drum music.”
She tightened her arms around him. “Sure.”
Ian made a strange sound in the back of his throat. “I know you’ve been away for a while, and so have I for that matter, but usually women aren’t so…so…”
“So what?”
“So okay with just being biological.”
“What do you mean?”
He gently pushed her out of his lap and stood. “We’re missing the game playing, the pretending. Me trying to ramp up the action. You countering with a token denial.”
“And that’s what you want?”
He began to pace. “No, but it’s what I’m used to.”
“Ian, look. I don’t know what to say. Obviously my experience level with dating normal people isn’t very high, but it seems to me most problems between a man and woman could be cleared up with one good sit-down conversation.”
He stopped his pacing and faced her. “You’re right.”
“I don’t want to give you a token denial, but the truth of the matter is I didn’t really act on my attraction to you because this…this tension between us, this heat, I think it will translate on the page of the book. We could get…biological now. I have these great oils I’d love to try—they’re all the way from Bolivia. Or we could work on the book and wait.”
Strange how at that precise moment the intensity of the drum music lessoned. Near silence descended upon them as she waited for his decision.
Ian sank against the cushions of her couch. His breath came out in sharp frustrated exhalations. Then his gaze cut to hers.
“You have a natural instinct for picking customs that would be interesting and instructional to today’s lovers. But you’re terrible at choosing chapter titles and you bog down the flow with too much history.”
“I won’t be left out of the writing.”
“I don’t plan to cut you out. Before, when you told me of the Bogani women, that was exciting. That was different, and that’s what people would want to read about. When you tell me about these people, their beliefs, you make them come alive. Seem like living, breathing people that anyone can relate to, can swap lives with, even for just an evening. That’s what this book needs.”
She glanced down at the manuscript pages covered with his red scribbles. “Obviously I’m not very good at putting my thoughts on paper.”
“That’s where I come in. I’m going to interview you. Every ceremony, every food, every dance you’ll share with me. Together we’ll get this book written.”
She nodded, liking the idea. “I think that could really work.”
Ian stood, reaching for all the papers of her manuscript and stuffing them into the empty space in his laptop bag. “We won’t be needing these. We’ll start from scratch tomorrow, when we’re fresh.”
Ava followed him to the door. She leaned against the wall after he left, picking at a bead on her bodice.
Ian had chosen the book over making love to her.
She would ignore that let-down feeling.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AVA GREETED HIM WEARING jeans and a light gray hoodie. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and Ian realized he liked this casual Ava. Hell, he just liked looking at the woman.
Today they’d be working on the chapter on scents. With that damn cinnamon, Ava had made him a believer that a man did respond on an elemental level. At least in a small way. But he wouldn’t be lying if he said he’d been looking forward to this day of writing as a relief from the sexual tension brewing between them. Just how out of his mind would he get from smelling a few vials?
She smiled when she spotted his laptop case. “Don’t you think we should experience this together before writing about it?”
“I like to be prepared.”
“I’ll remember that about you,” she said with a wink.
She was doing it again. Turning his innocent comments into something that sounded like a double entendre. As if he was prepared for sex with a condom all at the ready. Or maybe that was in his own mind. She spent most of her life out of the country—did she even know what she seemed to be implying? He was going crazy.
“I’ve set everything up in the front room.”
He’d expected vials and incense and containers of oil. Cotton swabs to capture the scents. What he hadn’t prepared for was the scene she’d set up. Ava had been very industrious, pushing back the couches and making a pallet on the floor with colorful blankets, no doubt weaved on the bare thighs of women preparing for sex or some such story designed to push him over the edge.
Two large pillows, presumably where he was supposed to sit, were surrounded by lit candles.
Holy hell.
She reached for his hand. “Take off your shoes and come with me,” her voice an invitation to be wicked.
Her soft fingers tightened around his after he’d kicked off his shoes, and she led him to the pillows, reclining on the one facing him.
“These candles are unscented so they won’t mask the smells we’re trying to explore, but set a nice mood. Rather than just list the fragrances that the opposite sex finds attractive, I thought it would be far more interesting to dab the oils on our bodies.”
Of course she’d have that idea. Ava Simms had lots of great ideas on how to torture him sexually.
“Are we talking pheromones?”
She shook her head. “As subconscious sex attractants, nothing can beat them, but it’s thought that only eighty percent of humans have the organ to even sense them. Some researchers think even less can detect pheromones due to disuse. Those odds are terrible. Why leave something like that to chance?”
He was beginning to think Ava didn’t leave much to chance. Him, he’d take a little mystery.
“So humans found a way to maximize the senses we do have.” Ava reached for a lighter and lit a thin stick. “Patchouli awakens sexuality, and comes from the tropical areas in Asia. Incense is the easiest way to find it.”
He watched as Ava delicately blew out the flame on the stick and waved a cloud of smoke around them. Despite his late night, he was now wide-awake.
She’d closed her eyes and took a deep breath. His body hardened as he watched her enjoy the smell surrounding them. This woman took pleasure in so many things.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “It’s kind of sweet and earthy,” she said as she placed the stick on an ornately carved holder. “Patchouli is thought to alleviate anxiety, so it might be a good scent for first-time lovers.”