Searching for what?
Permission? If so, he had it. Sera couldn’t deny him, even if she must ultimately disappoint him. Her lips opened, trembling, but she couldn’t seem to speak.
Still he sensed the moment she surrendered, and he took full advantage of it.
The hand Asher buried in her hair was gentle. The kiss he slanted across her mouth was anything but.
Oh, fu…
And suddenly, Sera was someone else: a sexually charged woman in the arms of a man so hot he seemed to singe her straight through her clothes. She was not awkward. Not a failure. Not frigid. Asher wouldn’t allow it. In his grip she was bliss, indeed; swept with sensation that left no room for second thoughts, hang-ups, or hesitation. His knowing hands guided her, molded her body to his. His stubble scraped her cheeks, her ear, her throat, while his lips, tongue, and teeth branded her skin with delicious sensation. Sera found herself clutching him to her, vaguely aware of the cool tiles against her backside, the cabinet behind her shoulders, a patch of sunlight illuminating the gold in his hair. Her hands, used to kneading malleable dough, found his shoulders and their unyielding musculature, reveling in his heat, his solidity. He’d yanked her forward so the apex of her thighs was pressed directly against the heat of his loins. Wow, she thought faintly. When Asher went from cool, debonair landlord to passionate lover, he really didn’t hold back. As a man, he was gentle; full of humor and wit and a kindness that wouldn’t quit.
As a lover, he was a hurricane.
No second-guessing, no insecurity. Asher was all primal male, demanding and eliciting a feminine response from Sera she hadn’t known she was capable of. With quick, expert strokes of his tongue, he claimed her mouth. With firm, possessive sweeps of his hands, he delineated her curves, bringing her nerve endings to life like Times Square lights. When he molded the contours of her breast, even through her bra and shirt, Sera felt the streak of sensation zinging directly to her core. And when he pressed against her there, her mind froze.
She wasn’t thinking about Blake, or her failures in his bed. Sera wasn’t thinking, period. Her body had taken on a life of its own under Asher’s expert tutelage. And right there in her aunt’s cozy kitchen, she was galloping rapidly, heedlessly toward that moment she’d dreamed of, and believed was beyond her reach…
Until Asher pulled back on the reins.
“Bliss.”
It took Sera a moment to register that he’d pushed back from her. Was, in fact, holding her at arms’ length. Her body missed the heat of his, as if he’d stolen her clothing on a cold winter night. Her brain couldn’t comprehend why he was over there, when her need was here. She reached for him, but he caught her hand in both of his and kissed it gently.
“Bliss,” he said again.
Her eyes began to focus, and she noticed his had returned to their normal moss green, though his chest was still rising and falling fast with his labored breathing. “Um, yeah?” she said a bit dreamily. She brought his fingers to her mouth and began nibbling one, running her tongue along its length in a way that was both wanton and totally unlike her.
Asher snatched it back, gasping slightly. “Bliss… we have to stop.”
“We do?” she asked foggily.
“Yes,” he said, and Sera got the gratifying impression that he’d rather have said no. He made a gesture of frustration, pleading for her understanding, then stretched out his hand to stroke her cheek. “Beautiful Bliss, you deserve more than this. Your satisfaction is something I want to give you with every fiber of my body. But not”—he gestured about the kitchen, and they could both hear, outside, the sound of Pauline singing off-key as she bashed about in her garden—“like this. Not for your first time.”
“It’s not my first time,” Sera objected, reaching for him again. What a time to play gentleman, her aching body groaned. “I’m a grown woman, Ash, and I’ve got plenty of experience.”
Asher took her cheek in one callused hand, drew close, and kissed her with heat tempered by gentlemanly consideration. His lips left hers reluctantly. “Neither of us have this experience,” he contradicted. “And I want us to experience each other properly, so you’ll understand how much this means to me, and so that I may have the honor of showing you just how satisfying I find you.”
Sera let him go. The fire he’d ignited was cooling, her thoughts coalescing once more.
“So what are you saying?” she asked.
Asher ran his hand through his hair in that agitated way she was beginning to love. “What I’m saying is this: You are the most passionate woman I have ever met, Serafina Wilde. You’re fiery, you’re gutsy, and you’re more alive inside than most women even dream of being. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I don’t know who has convinced you otherwise, but we are going to sort this out, you and I. When I return, I intend to take you out on a real date—a proper, old-fashioned date—and then…” He paused. “Then we’ll see where the night takes us. Do you understand?”
His intensity should have frightened her. Instead, it only turned her on more. Come back and finish what you started, she wanted to plead, even though she wasn’t at all sure where that might lead. It had felt like she might get there… felt so incredible she couldn’t believe he was denying her now.
“Do you understand?” he demanded a second time, those green eyes going gold again. He stepped closer, took her chin between his fingers, and brought that incredible heat of his once more within reach.
Sera gulped, nodded.
“And do you agree?” he asked, more gently and with a touch of his regular humor.
Sera didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded again, against his hand. She noticed she was running her own hand down the contours of his back, stroking lower to trace his hips, his buttocks. Her hand wanted to grab hold, and keep hold of that prime male real estate… but he was still talking, and his expression told her she better pay attention.
“Good. I’m glad. Because I’m going away, Bliss—going home to Israel. I’ll be back in a week, perhaps ten days, and then we’ll revisit this. But first”—he lowered his head and kissed her again, at first gently, and then not at all gently—“first, I’ve got to go speak to my wife.”
With one final, brief kiss, he donned his hat and left Sera there, sitting on the counter by the sink, closer to orgasm than she’d ever imagined, and more befuddled than she’d been on her last epic bender.
Speak to his wife?
Chapter Eighteen
If you’re finished ignoring me like a pouty teenager, kiddo, there’s someone who wants to talk to you,” Pauline said. She pointed to the phone, which was lying off the cradle on the mosaic-topped telephone table by the sofa.
Sera rolled her eyes at her aunt. She hadn’t been ignoring Pauline; she’d been punishing her for this afternoon’s boorish behavior. There was a difference. But she supposed her affronted act had gone on long enough. Pauline couldn’t help herself—she was congenitally uncouth—and if her interference was playing merry hell with Sera’s love life, well… it hadn’t turned out all bad.
Maybe. The jury was still out on that one.
The jury, and Asher’s wife, Sera reminded herself. Apparently that mysterious paragon wasn’t as out of the picture as she’d assumed—and what it meant for her and Asher, she had no idea. Asher wouldn’t dally with me if he was still married, would he? Somehow she couldn’t picture her landlord as a philandering cheat. She had to have a little more faith in him than that. But still… She shook herself to bring her thoughts back to the present.