But he knew what he wanted. He knew exactly what he wanted.
Did she, though?
Did she honestly not realise the battle he fought every day not to grab her and kiss her? The tight hold he’d had to keep on his self-control not to suggest she join him every night when they went to their separate rooms? How crazy it drove him catching her scent everywhere he turned and not being able to hold her close?
Perhaps she didn’t.
And perhaps it was time he made that clear.
Ash turned off the heat under the pot. Dinner could wait.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘IS IT READY?’ Zoey asked as Ash approached again from the kitchen. She couldn’t quite read the look on his face, but suddenly she got the feeling he wasn’t coming to talk about the food.
He shook his head, confirming her suspicions. ‘I need to talk to you about something first.’
Apprehension filled her, tightening her chest as she closed the catalogue in her hands. ‘Okay.’ Was he going to call the whole thing off? Tell her it would never work?
That he knew she loved him, and he couldn’t ever love her back, so they should forget all this stupid marriage business?
This time, when he sat, Ash chose the seat right next to her and took her hand in his. She hoped he couldn’t feel it trembling.
‘You said that our wedding was practical. Functional, even.’
‘Because it is,’ she replied. ‘Isn’t it?’ She couldn’t quite keep the hope from her voice, but if Ash heard it he didn’t show it.
‘I suppose so,’ he said. But then one of his hands drifted up her arm, along her neck, cupping her jawline and suddenly breathing became an awful lot harder. ‘But that’s not all I want it to be.’
Zoey forced herself to swallow down the hope that was building inside her. ‘What...what were you hoping for, then?’
‘This.’ He gave her plenty of time to back away as he bent his head to kiss her. But all Zoey could think was, At last.
Oh, she had missed this so much. The feel of his lips against hers, his mouth, his tongue darting out across hers. Missed the heat that rose up to fill her at his touch. His arms, shoulders and back—so steady, hard and strong with muscle—under her fingers. His black hair, silky as she ran her hands through it. And the way he held her close—as if she was precious, but also greedily, as if he’d die if he couldn’t have her right now...
Actually, she might die if she couldn’t have him again. Now.
Ash pulled away and Zoey heard herself whimper at the loss of his lips. So pathetic, Hepburn.
‘Uh, what I was trying to say...’ He trailed off as if the intensity of the kiss had surprised him too.
‘I think...’ Zoey swallowed as her voice came out croaky, then tried again. ‘I think I get what you were saying.’
He gave her a wicked smile, one that lit her up from within again, thinking of the last time she’d seen that smile, on a beach in paradise.
‘I was holding back,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t want to rush you into anything, but I’d hate for you to think for a moment that I don’t still want you. That when I proposed to you I didn’t hope that, one day, we’d have more than just a functional marriage.’
‘I want that too,’ she whispered. It wasn’t love, of course. But to have Ash with her every day, and in her bed every night? That was close. It could be enough.
Couldn’t it?
He kissed her again, lighter and happier, but no less arousing.
‘So,’ he asked. ‘Dinner or bed?’
She didn’t even have to think about the answer.
‘Bed.’
* * *
Later—much later—as they lay in the darkness, Zoey tucked into the crook of his arm as he ran his other hand down her side, Ash wondered how he’d got so damn lucky.
‘I never thought I could have all this again, you know,’ he whispered to her, not sure if she was even still awake. ‘I’m so happy I get to have it with you.’
‘So am I,’ she whispered back. But there was something in her voice—something that reminded him of her running away from him on that beach in paradise. Something that gave him pause, even while he couldn’t put his finger on quite what it was.