CHAPTER NINE

Ainsley

I woke the next morning warm and contented. Dreams like cotton candy parted sweetly, letting me emerge into sunlight and warmth.

And the feeling of an arm wrapped round my waist.

It wasn't a dream, I thought with some wonder. I really was lying here in Drake's arms. I moved back and heard him breathe out, feeling him stir against me, drawing me tight against his body.

“Good morning,” he murmured. Kissing my hair like he always had, he ran a hand down my flank. I sighed.

“Good morning.”

I rolled over, switching position in his arms so that I was looking into his eyes. I sighed and gently let my tongue glide over his lips, exploring his mouth.

Murmuring, he drew me into his embrace. His dick was hard and I could feel it pressing, probing against me. I smiled and ran a hand down, touching it.

“Oh.” He sighed, eyes opening and then shutting as he gave me a big, contented smile. “Well?”

“Well what?” I asked. I left my hand exactly where it was. He grinned and moved so he lay beside me, his cock resting warmly on my upper leg.

“Well,” he murmured, gently twisting me so that I lay with my back to him. “What should we do this morning?”

I sighed and let my body move back against his where he held me so tight and warm and safe in his arms.

“I have some ideas,” I murmured.

“Oh.” He nibbled my neck naughtily. “You have ideas.”

“I do,” I said, wriggling out of his embrace and sitting up to look down at him, moving my hair off my shoulders with a hand as I did so. “Ideas like this.”

I pushed him onto his back and straddled him. I could feel his dick probing at my entrance as I spread my thighs over him, moving back and forth to make myself comfortable.

He gasped as I lowered myself onto him and I cried out too. I had already forgotten how great it was. I rocked back and forth, riding him slowly and then fast as he grunted and shut his eyes, the corners creasing as he frowned in concentration that looked more like agony.

He was rocking and shaking under me and I could feel him pulsing inside me and he came. I came a second later, the feeling sending me flat into his arms so that we clung together, both satisfied.

Later, when my mind returned from the haze where our lovemaking had taken it, he stroked my hair and kissed me on the forehead

“Ainsley,” he murmured. “That was...incredible.”

I rolled over and smiled at him. “Thank you. You too.”

My heart glowed. That was one of the things I loved about him – the way he was always so sweet and polite about these things. I never knew him not to thank me for our lovemaking, and I always thanked him too, a sweet tradition that had grown up when we first met and we'd kept ever since.

I smiled and lay there, feeling a glow spread through me from my abdomen and flooding through my whole body. I kissed his chin and he sighed and nestled closer, rolling over to hold me close to him.

“Ainsley?” he whispered. He shifted in the bed so he was propped against the pillow. I snuggled closer, my head on his shoulder in another of our traditions.

“Mm?” I asked. I felt so comfortable. I could have stayed right where I was forever.

“I guess,” he said, bending to kiss my hair, “I should go to work.”

“Oh.” I made a face. It was Monday. I knew that. I looked at the clock by the bed. It was eight o' clock in the morning. He was right.

“I know,” he sighed. “I'd much rather stay here. But I must.”

I chuckled. “I know. Me too. I should go.”

I sat up and kissed him, then slid out of bed. “Race you to the shower?”

He laughed. “You're always faster than me. In you go.”

I chuckled and sprinted across the bedroom to the en-suite bathroom, feeling like I'd just come back to life as I let the warm water sluice down over my body and melt what was left of my insides. Most of those had melted during the night – or so it felt – and I was relaxed and pliant with my release.

I washed my hair and towel-dried it, then slid out into the bedroom. He was organizing his clothes. I smiled.

“Your turn.”

“Yes, milady.”

He was still laughing as he went into the shower and shut the door. I resisted the temptation to freeze him by running the kitchen tap, and settled on getting dressed. I chose a blue skirt and white blouse and a pastel blue leather jacket I'd bought ages ago and not had the courage to wear. I looked at myself in the mirror. I could see a new tranquility in my eyes.

You look happy, I told myself with some surprise.

I was just finishing my makeup when Drake came out of the shower, a towel wrapped fastidiously around his loins. I laughed.

“I guess you have to hide that from me,” I commented, looking at the towel, making him flush crimson. “If you didn't, I'd want it again.”

He laughed. “Oh, Ainsley,” he said, shaking his head. “I want you.”

“I want you too, big man,” I chuckled, wrapping my arms around his muscled, stunning body and breathing in the warm minty smell of shower-gel. “But I gotta work.”

“Me too,” he admitted, those molded lips twisting ruefully in a big smile. “See you later?”

“Maybe,” I said, my eyes growing suddenly big with that thought. I hadn't considered it. Weirdly, the future was something that was only peripheral in my mind right now. I just wanted to stay with this moment, with how happy I was.

“I hope we can see each other soon,” he demurred, letting the towel drop as he pulled on his briefs. I stepped back, studying his body with some luscious longing. He had a narrow waist, broad shoulders and strong thighs. Shapely calves, rippling biceps and that muscled chest all told the same story – this was a man who worked out a lot.

“Ainsley, do you think we could...” he looked up and caught my eye on him. He flushed.

“What?” I teased.

He looked away, sharp-edged grin letting me know he had the same sudden cascade of naughty thoughts as I did.

“Nothing,” he said.

He dressed in silence and I went into the kitchen, getting things out for breakfast.

He appeared in the kitchen door, fully dressed, a handsome slightly shower-wet Disney hero with a crisp white shirt and semi-formal slacks, navy blazer folded loose on one arm.

“I should go, huh,” he said.

“Stay for coffee, though,” I protested, reaching for some of the capsules I'd bought the other day from Nespresso.

He looked at his big Rolex. “I have to go,” he said. “Actually, I'll take a coffee. Quickly?”

He held me against him as I set about making the coffee and I reveled in the feel of his arms around me even though I knew that soon he would have to go.

He drank the coffee and then kissed me, pressing dark coffee-flavored lips to my mouth.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked. His big brown eyes were hopeful. My heart flipped over.

“I hope so,” I commented.

He grinned. “I hope so too.”

Then he was hurrying through the door and I could hear the thump of his shoes as he walked quickly down the stairs.

When he had gone I was amazed by how shaken I felt. I reached for his coffee-cup, almost not wanting to wash the slight stain off the edges where his lip had touched. I went briskly through to the bedroom and steeled myself, then pulled the coverlets back over the bed, forcibly smoothing out the dent in the mattress and pillow where he'd lain.

There, I told myself firmly. I bit my lip. I was absolutely not going to cry.

When I found the navy-blue tie on the seat in my bedroom, I felt my heart clench almost painfully. I picked it up, holding it tightly and pressed it to my lips, breathing the scent of his cologne. I let the silk run through my fingers once or twice, feeling it lovingly with my fingertips as I recalled the evening when he wore it, sitting opposite me at the table over dinner.

Then I put it on the side-table.

“Come back to get it,” I whispered challengingly to the still air of the bedroom. I imagined him hearing me and turning at the window, that stunning body half-naked, sharp smile on his lips.

Then I turned around and headed quickly to the door. I lifted my handbag and my keys and headed, heels loud on the tiling of the hallway, down to the lift and out to my car.

I had a long day ahead at work.

I floated dreamily into my office, thinking I had managed to look perfectly aloof and neutral. But Emmy looked up at me the moment I came in, copper-brown eyes narrowed shrewdly.

“You had a good weekend?”

“Yes,” I said, non-committal. “Yours was too?”

“Yes,” she said, stretching expansively. “I took Stan to the baseball game, and we spent the day there...” she trailed off, yawning. Stan was her six-year-old. I smiled, imagining how much fun he must've had.

“It must have been fun,” I commented, hanging my bag over my chair and sitting down.

“It was,” she said. “But you look like you had fun too.”

“I do?” I raised a hand to my cheek, suddenly blushing. What was it that made it so obvious? Could everyone see?

She chuckled. “No need to be so secretive about it...not like it's a crime to enjoy yourself. What'd you do?”

I smiled. “Nothing much,” I said. I wasn't going to give away my secrets to Emmy, the singularly greatest purveyor of office gossip this side of the Florida River had to offer. I kept my secret to myself, though I couldn't help a funny smile crossing my face as I thought of Drake.

“Fine,” she said lightly. “Be like that. Oh, and Piper was in here – she wanted to know if you're doing the preface from scratch, or translating the old one?”

I sighed. “I think I'll write a new one. There's stuff in there that needs explaining to a broader audience.”

“Okay,” Emmy nodded. “Just let her know, hey?”

“I'll do that,” I said, switching on my computer and looking for the most recent files.

As I set about working I found my mind turning to thoughts of Drake. I wondered what he was up to, what his workday was like. I imagined that stunning body striding through the courtroom – even though I knew he didn't do that as an in-house lawyer – and wished, distantly, that I could be there.

Must be the first time anyone wanted to go to court.

I chuckled. I saw Emmy move as if she wanted to ask me something and then she turned abruptly back to her work again.

I guess I shouldn't be so secret, really, I thought, feeling a little guilty. After all, I was dating. That's all she needed to know. I didn't have to tell her the who, what and how. And why wasn't I telling her? She was a friend – or close enough, anyway – and she'd be pleased for me.

I realized that I wasn't telling her because I wasn't sure of my own thoughts on the matter.

Sure, I think Drake is stunning and gorgeous and I am really glad to have seen him again. But do I want him in my life?

It should have been a no-brainer, that question, and it mostly was. Who wouldn't want a stunning, smart, funny guy they were once wildly in love with to come back into their life, after all?

It was two things that put me off. Firstly, why had he done what he did all those years ago? Just walked out without any hint of whether or not he would come back for me or letting me know when he had?

Secondly, why the about-turn? Why had a guy who was so committed to uplifting people suddenly joined forces with a company with such a bad reputation?

None of this puzzles well together.

I frowned at the French preface, making my mind return from its wanderings and into the present at work. I spotted the places where I'd highlighted things, notes in the margin nearby for what I needed to explain in detail.

This makes more sense than my life does right now, I thought with some humor as I frowned and went to look up a better translation for “angoisse”.

Later, over lunch-break, I was online, spending my time looking at new lounge-suites – I really wanted a new one and had been saving up – when the thought occurred to me to find Drake's professional site. I typed in “Steelcore, Drake Leblanc”.

I found him – looking stunning and fresh in a suit. I smiled at his profile picture, stupidly. I was glad no-one else was in the office to see me. As I read down the list of skills and achievements – very impressive they sounded, too, as he'd been “employee of the month” at least twice – an article on their “current” page caught my eye: Hacking threat foiled.

I clicked and ran my eye absently down the lines of text. I'm not a technical buff, but it sounded like someone had been trying to infiltrate bits of the data-base that no-one was supposed to access.

I found myself reading an excerpt aloud. “As this information is of a sensitive and confidential nature, it was necessary that swift action must be taken, said executive Brad Shane.”

I wonder what information that was?

I sighed. I was going all suspicious on them. Of course some companies had confidential information. Even stuff like tax reports was probably confidential. Or exactly how much money they made in a year. Or trade secrets. All the same, it grabbed my interest and I found myself doing a search for more information on the company.

I scrolled down the list of search results. There were the usual sites making accusations about Steelcore – I wasn't sure how many of them to believe. The most fair of them said that it was “unclear” as to whether or not Steelcore profited from exploitation and child labor in Brazil's iron-mining circles. I do hope they don't.

The thought of Drake being a tame lawyer for a company that sent ten-year-olds down mine-shafts was not something I wanted to think about.

If that's what Drake is like now, I don't want to know him.

Until I knew for sure, keeping a certain aloofness might be my best bet after all. I would wait and see.

All the same, I couldn't help a big smile as I leaned back, remembering the night with him and just how incredible I felt this moment.