“I’m at fault?” she asked in outraged indignation.
“Yes. You’re the one who walked out on me. And didn’t answer your phone any of the fifteen times I called you.”
“My—” she broke off in genuine confusion. “Oh. My phone. I put it in the bag with the dress.” She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t hear it ring.”
“You guess you didn’t hear it ring? For four hours? Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
She at least had the sense to look embarrassed, but it seemed to annoy her and she shrugged it off, casually saying, “I’m sorry.”
He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her around so she faced him. “You’re sorry? You pull a stupid, reckless stunt like that and the best you can come up with is ‘I’m sorry’?”
She jerked her arm away from his hand. “Yes. I’m sorry you were worried. But the stunt was neither stupid nor reckless.”
“Then where have you been for the past four hours?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Have you ever taken buses all over L.A. and then picked up the late-night train to San Diego? Public transportation is slow.”
“How is riding buses and trains around L.A. in the middle of the night not stupid?”
“I’ve been riding buses and trains around L.A. since I was a child. I may talk and dress like a rich white girl most of the time, but I’ve been in and out of just as many poor neighborhoods as I have rich ones. I know how to handle myself.”
“It may be true that you know how to handle yourself.” He grabbed both her arms now and didn’t let her go. When he spoke his voice was low and laden with all of his pent-up fears. “But I don’t know how to handle having you out there on your own without knowing that you’re safe.”
“Oh.” Her brow furrowed in delightful confusion.
“Just—” He pulled her close, bumping his head against hers, relief that she was safe finally flooding through him. “Don’t do that again.”
“Okay.” She nodded, seeming to melt against him. When she spoke, her voice sounded tight. “I didn’t know you’d worry.”
She sounded so genuinely confused, he couldn’t rail against her again, even though he wanted to. He had to remind himself that she wasn’t used to living in the limelight as he was. She could truly pick up a train in the middle of the night and no one would know or care. She could disappear in a crowd. Something he hadn’t done in over twenty years.
“I really am sorry.” Her words came out in a rush. “But that party, that just wasn’t my thing. I can’t imagine why you wanted me there.”
“Why is it so hard for you to believe that I just wanted to be with you? That I just wanted to impress you?”
She threw up her hands in obvious frustration. “Because you’re the most impressive person I’ve ever met.” Her expression softened and she inched closer to him. “Without introducing me to famous people I don’t care about. You and you alone are impressive.” She reached for him then, twining her arms around his shoulders. “Your total dedication to CMF. Your amazing talent as a songwriter and musician. Those are the—”
He wrenched himself from her arms and turned away, unable to even look at her. Wishing he’d pulled away sooner, before she’d spoken of his amazing talent. And don’t forget that dedication.
Right. His amazing dedication to a charity he didn’t really believe in. In honor of a wife he’d failed miserably. And his amazing talent that hadn’t meant jack when push came to shove. But it was nice to know that those were the qualities Ana most admired.
She must have read the tension in his posture, because she walked up and ran a hand along his back.
“Is it so hard for you to believe that none of that stuff matters to me? That when I want to be with you, it’s with you alone. That I don’t want to be with you in a crowd of people. I just want to be with you.”
“We’ve been over this before. I can’t be alone with you, without wanting to strip your clothes off and—”
But she interrupted him. “Then what are you waiting for?”
She didn’t have to ask twice. She didn’t really expect to. The words were barely out of her mouth before he’d pulled her to him and molded her body against his. His mouth was hot and hard over hers as the last of his anger melted into desire.
Yes, her entire being seemed to sing in response. Finally, inevitably, yes.
Every cell in her body seemed to call out to his. Her very blood pounded in rhythm with her need. This was what she wanted from him. What she needed. And if he just gave it to her, maybe her heart would forget all the stupid things it wanted.
His hands seemed everywhere at once, hot and needy. Slipping up under the edge of her shirt. Skimming over the backside of her jeans. Pulling her h*ps against his.
And everywhere he touched her, she was aware of the roughness of his fingertips. Of the mastery of his hands. Burning his mark onto her skin. Onto her very soul.
She trembled under his ministrations, all too aware of how clumsy she felt. How every aspect of this was new for her. And despite that, how right it felt to press her body against his. As if this was what she’d waited for all her life. As if this was what she was meant for.
She arched against him, unable to get close enough. To touch enough of him. And then he backed her up one step. And another. And another.
Finally, she realized his intention. Nodding toward the door, she wrenched her mouth from his. “Bedroom,” she panted. “That way.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, but swept her up into his arms and carried her there, as smoothly and as easily as the heroes from the romantic movies she’d watched as a girl.
He kicked the door open with his foot and strode into the room, then laid her gently down on the bed. Her room was relentlessly feminine, with it’s brightly colored quilt and sunny yellow throw pillows. Suddenly, she was aware that no man had ever been in this room. Not just this room, but any of her bedrooms.
But before she had a chance to feel self-conscious about that, he’d stepped back. She watched, fascinated as he stripped off his tuxedo jacket and let it drop on the floor. As he started on the shirt buttons, she rose up on her knees to help him. As each button slipped free, her pulse quickened and with it, her desire. She felt her blood roaring through her veins, her need thundering through her. Frustrated by his slow progress, she dropped her hands to his belt buckle. Her fingers trembled as she flicked it open, unfastened his pants and tugged his shirt free. She tugged the belt from his pants and then sat back on her heels to admire her handiwork.
Standing there before her, with his hair tousled and his shirt hanging open to reveal a narrow swath of skin, he looked like something from a fantasy. Or maybe an ad campaign for high-end cologne. In comparison to the other half-naked men she’d seen—entirely in a professional capacity—Ward’s body was stunningly masculine. The hair on his chest was sparse and dark, his muscles defined without being sculpted. This was the body of a grown man, fully in his prime. As sexual as it was powerful. Able to protect and provide.
But it was the expression on his face that sent shivers of pleasure through her. He gazed at her with such intensity, such powerful longing that she knew she’d made the right choice. It was as simple and as powerful as this: she wanted him. Desperately. And for once, she was going to give herself what she wanted.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Ward ordered, his voice rough with desire.
Ana’s gaze darted to his. “Like what?” Her voice was breathy.
“Like I’m a five-course dessert.” He flicked off his cuff links, letting them fall into his open palm and then pocketing them. Slowly, he shucked his shirt, letting it fall, unnoticed, to the floor.
He moved with precision and control. His expression taut and hungry, gazing into her eyes as if he had to cling tightly to the last shreds of his control or lose it completely.
Ten
Closing the distance between them, he cupped her cheek with one hand. With his other, Ward carefully plucked out the bobby pins holding back her hair. Once the silken waves were free, he brought them to his face and inhaled deeply, drinking in Ana’s intoxicating scent. Then he poured all of that desperate need into his kiss. Her mouth was warm and inviting. A tempting buffet of textures and sensations.
There were so many things he wanted to say, so much emotion he needed to express. So many things he didn’t even know how to tell her. All his life, he’d used words to seduce. But that only worked when he had a guitar in his hands. When he could coax out a melody to create the mood, to entice a woman into feeling what he wanted her to feel. Kissing Ana now, he felt vulnerable. Woefully inadequate. Barely up to the task of making love to her.
He had no way of knowing what was going on in that stubborn brain of hers. No way of judging if she wanted him with the same desperate neediness that he felt. All he knew was that he’d never felt this way before. Not even with Cara.
With Cara, everything had been right on the surface. There’d never been any deeper meaning, no hidden indecipherable emotions. No need to take things slowly. And no desperation.
With Ana, everything was different. More intense. And his innate talent with words failed him.
In the end, all he could do was worship her with his body. With reverent hands, he pulled her sweater up over her head. Her br**sts were bare beneath it. Perfect. Lush and inviting. Begging to be kissed, lathed and lavished with attention. Which he did with complete devotion.
But still, the rest of her body beckoned, tempting him farther down. She shimmied out of her jeans and he quickly stripped her of her silken underwear. When he slipped his hand between her legs there was an instant of resistance before her thighs fell open to his touch. But once he eased open her lips, she was delightfully moist and hot enough to burn him. All but trembling with need, he dipped his fingers into her over and over again as his thumb found the nub of tender skin at her entrance. A groan pulled from low in her throat as she bucked on the bed. He felt her muscles clench around his fingers as the very first tremors of an orgasm coursed through her. He couldn’t resist tasting her then, suckling the sweet honey of her arousal as he pushed her over the edge into oblivion.