Just one kiss (The Ashcrofts Book 1)

by Anderson, Poppy J.

  Amy could just as well have been asleep the last half hour of the movie, she was focusing so intently on the man next to her. Thus, she was unable to answer his question.

  “I don’t have the slightest idea,” she whispered back honestly, swallowing when he turned his amused face toward her.

  “Going to see an Italian movie was a stupid idea, wasn’t it?”

  “Not at all,” she replied earnestly.

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Even though we don’t know what the movie is about?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said weakly, his intent gaze making her swoon. “Looking at Sophia Loren alone is worth it, I think.”

  “If you’re getting too cold, we can leave. Just say the word.”

  “No,” Amy protested quickly. Gathering her wits, she added: “It’s so beautiful out here. The movie could be in Korean, for all I care.”

  He bowed his head a little, and there was a chuckle in his voice as he murmured, “You’re so cute.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, and her brain seemed to have shut down, because she heard herself whisper, “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” The hand rubbing her arm became even gentler, now caressing her. “Can I be honest?”

  “Of course,” she whispered, hoping he would sit this close to her forever, stroking her. Hot excitement pulsed through her veins as she waited, hoped for, expected him to kiss her. She yearned for it with every fiber of her being.

  “I couldn’t care less if the film was in Klingon.”

  Despite the tingling tension, she managed a small laugh. “Klingon? Does that mean you’re a Trekkie?”

  “I used to be,” he admitted. “As a teen, I was an honorary member of Starfleet Academy.”

  “I guess I belonged to the Star Wars faction.”

  “You’re doing it again,” he accused her softly.

  She looked into his green eyes, confused. “Doing what?” she asked sheepishly.

  “Being so cute.”

  It wasn’t surprising that she blushed violently. “What exactly am I doing?”

  “I don’t know.” He pulled her closer, exhaled heavily, and let his hand slide to her elbow, holding on gently. “Maybe it’s just your doll-like face and your blue eyes. Every time I look at you, I smile, I can’t help it.”

  Was he trying to drive her insane on purpose?

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so she merely studied him shyly. He caught her looking, but it didn’t seem to faze him at all.

  “Doll-like face?” she repeated.

  He nodded and lowered his face even closer, touching his nose to hers, which made her heart beat faster than it already was.

  “You think I have a doll face?” She was breathless now.

  “You have an extremely beautiful doll-like face. And the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  She swallowed, unable to reply as her mind debated which was more delicious: the touch of his hand on her elbow, or his warm breath against her cheek. Maybe it was his strong body pressed against hers, making her dizzy.

  Before they could further discuss her allegedly doll-like face, he finally did it.

  The contact was as gentle as a butterfly’s wings. His lips barely touched hers at first, but an electric jolt couldn’t have been more energizing. Amy leaned in and returned the feather-light kiss with sweet abandonment.

  Just one kiss.

  That was all she needed to know it felt absolutely right. Never before had it felt this way.

  His lips were still against hers when he whispered, “Can I come visit you and see your paintings tomorrow?”

  She needed less than a second to nod yes.

  Chapter 5

  “I like your apartment.”

  Patrick took the glass of lemonade Amy handed him and continued looking around the small apartment she rented in an old Italian house. It was somewhat cramped, but the location was really nice, and it had a roof terrace. And, he had to admit, it was incredibly cozy. He felt like grabbing Amy and taking her out on the terrace to enjoy the beautiful morning. It would be a treat to be beside the blushing blonde, who apparently didn’t want him to notice that his presence in her sanctuary was making her nervous.

  With a private little smile, he raised the glass to his lips as he stepped into the room beyond the kitchen, which Amy had turned into her studio. He spied easels, countless canvasses, and pots of paint. He also saw a rickety wooden table with three chairs, an old couch with colorful pillows, a beat-up dresser, and a tiny old TV that was set on a small stool. The motley furniture possessed a curious charm, and it suited Amy, who had hesitatingly followed him and was now opening a window and smiling.

  “Thank you.” She raised her hands in an awkward gesture. “I’m so happy I got this apartment. The landlord’s niece used to live here, but she had to move away for a job, and then …” Trailing off, she shrugged and blushed. “I’m babbling. Sorry.”

  “You can babble all you want. I don’t mind,” he replied with a smile, which made her blush even harder.

  He suspected he knew the reason she was so nervous to have him in her apartment, and he felt his pulse quicken at the thought. Despite the fact that Amy was living in a foreign country and making her own money, that she had chosen a path that was anything but easy, she appeared a little inexperienced in some respects. She was straightforward and genuine, never calculating. Patrick had encountered his fair share of calculating women, girls who threw themselves at him with ulterior motives, and it had started when he was only a teen. So it was no wonder he was captivated by Amy’s shy reticence and youthful lack of guile.

  He cleared his throat and nodded at a painting was set on an easel. It showed the chaos of a Roman market. He was impressed with the way Amy had captured the people and the hectic bustle of a market day. So lifelike. He admired the painting, taken in by the attention to detail, and he felt his respect for the woman with the blue eyes and warm smile grow even more. The colorful composition fascinated him, reminding him of the impressionist paintings his mother admired. “This one is amazing.”

  “Thank you.” Predictably, she blushed. Then she tilted her head. “I’m not really satisfied with it. The organization isn’t quite right, and some colors are a little—”

  “Amy,” he interrupted. “It’s beautiful. I’d have thought it was a Monet if I didn’t know you painted it.”

  That left her speechless for a moment. She gave him a surprised look and opened her mouth soundlessly before managing a question. “You’re familiar with Monet’s work?”

  “Of course.” Patrick took a step closer to the easel. “My mother loves art, especially the impressionists. Even when I was a little boy, she dragged me into every museum she could find.”

  He didn’t mention that he’d seen all the important museums in the world by the age of ten, nor that he had an original Monet at home, as well as a Degas, a Gainsborough, and a Renoir. He kept that to himself. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want the woman who made the butterflies in his stomach flutter to know that he wasn’t just some middling employee. Patrick wanted Amy to like him for him—not for his admittedly beautiful mansion or the money in his bank account.

  “My mother used to love Monet, too,” she broke into his train of thought. “I still remember her taking me to a museum once and showing me one of his paintings. I’ve always loved the impressionists.”

  Her voice held a measure of melancholy, which made him search her eyes. “You miss her, don’t you?”

  Her smile was half-hearted, which made him want to protect her. “To be quite honest, I can’t really remember much about her. I probably just miss the idea of having a mother.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Do you miss your dad?”

  Patrick shrugged. “Our relationship wasn’t free of conflict,” he answered honestly. “Of course I’m sad he passed away, but since we could hardly ever talk without arguing …” He left the sentence unfinished.

  Amy surprised him by coming close
r, searching his face with a serious expression, and then putting a comforting hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he murmured and bowed his head. Her hand against his cheek sent jolts of electricity through his entire body, and her sweet scent enveloped him. She was standing so close, he could have easily pulled her against his body. His hands trembled, so he cautiously placed them on her hips, hardly daring to breathe.

  “Patrick,” she sighed softly, her fingers unconsciously caressing his cheek. With a tentative gesture, she leaned in for a sweet kiss, putting her lips against his.

  The gentle kiss hit him like another jolt. He fought the urge to grab her and smash her against his taut body. Instead, he returned the kiss with all the restraint he could muster, reveling in the soft sounds she emitted.

  Tenderly, his hands slid up and down her back, and then his fingers caressed her collarbone. When his thumb met the sensitive hollow of her throat, a luxurious sigh escaped her lips. Patrick smiled in return.

  He was still holding back when he kissed her again, and then he registered with satisfaction that her wonderfully curved lips pressed harder against his, demanding more. Fascinated by her reaction, he kissed her with more passion and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Another sigh was his confirmation that she was enjoying the kiss. He caressed her neck with trembling fingers, moved his hands down to her shoulders, wrapped his fingers around her arms, and finally pulled her very close.

  “Amy,” he warned her in a frighteningly hoarse voice, raising his head to look into her eyes. The sight of her hazy eyes and swollen lips sent a shiver across his skin.

  When she licked her lips, he groaned with something akin to ferocity. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?” she asked innocently.

  “You’re turning me on,” he explained huskily, and leaned in to kiss her again.

  Even though he hadn’t come here planning to sleep with Amy, he could hardly restrain himself now, as she wrapped her arms around his neck with a moan, returning his kiss with abandon. Automatically, his hands moved lower and wrapped around her bottom, while he continued to kiss the softest lips he had ever tasted. His tongue met hers in a passionate dance, and he recklessly dug his fingers into her, registering with great satisfaction that she stood on tiptoe to be even closer to him.

  A slight dizziness overcame him, and he gasped for air, breaking the kiss for just a few seconds.

  “Amy, do you really want—”

  “Yes.” She pulled her lips away from his and tugged at his T-shirt in a shy attempt to initiate the next step.

  He let out a hoarse chuckle, stepped back, and pulled the shirt over his head. Seeing her blush as she stared at his naked chest, he looked back at her with glittering eyes.

  Without a word, he stepped closer again and put a hand to her flaming cheeks.

  “I want you, Amy,” he said very plainly.

  Though her face was bright red, she echoed huskily, “I want you, too.”

  When she put both her hands on his chest and let them slide down quite innocently, Patrick gasped for air once again. She was so close that he could feel her hot breath on his naked skin. He pushed against her, kissed her, and began opening the clasps on her overall shorts. He’d liked the garment on her the first time they’d met, because it showed most of her shapely legs, but now he realized it was complicated to get her out of this thing.

  When the overalls finally dropped to the floor, Patrick grabbed the tiny tee she was wearing underneath and pulled it over her head. He sensed that she felt insecure, standing before him in her underwear, so he pulled her close again and kissed her gently.

  His mouth wandered from her lips to her cheek, leaving a wet trail, and then he nibbled gently on her earlobe before lowering his head and kissing her neck. Her head fell back, while she clung to him and moaned with lust. Patrick snaked an arm around her waist, his free hand going astray and cupping her breast.

  ***

  As his mouth explored the skin on her throat, and his thumb found her sensitive nipple and caressed it through the fabric of her bra, Amy wanted to scream her desire. A burning, tingling sensation spread over her skin, and she felt as if there wasn’t enough air to breathe. Gasping, she writhed under his kisses, unable to think. She grabbed his hair, emitted a sharp cry, and realized idly that her bra was flung to the floor. She inhaled his spicy scent and trembled as she let go of his hair.

  Her hands roamed across his neck and shoulders, coming to rest on his broad chest. She could feel his heartbeat underneath her palms, and she closed her eyes when she felt a tingling heat build between her thighs.

  “It feels so amazing when you touch me,” he whispered hoarsely and looked at her, his eyes practically glowing.

  Her throat was dry when she returned his gaze. “You feel amazing as well.”

  His lips curved into a smile while his hands cupped both her breasts and caressed the sensitive skin there. He didn’t take his eyes off her face, which made Amy wish there was a blanket nearby that could pull over her head. Standing in front of a man virtually naked, looking into his eyes while his hands explored her body, was nothing she was used to.

  “Patrick,” she admitted hesitatingly. “I-I’m not very good at this.”

  “This?”

  Amy nodded. “Of course, I’ve had sex before, but—”

  He interrupted her with a gentle chuckle and pressed a kiss to her nose. Then he wrapped his arms around her. “Okay. How do you want us to proceed?”

  “Could you maybe kiss me again?” She inclined her head and stared at him like someone enthralled. A lock of black hair had fallen across his forehead, and she gently brushed it aside.

  When he moaned and leaned down to kiss her, Amy registered that his hands were trembling. She felt oddly satisfied that he must be just as aroused as she was. Losing herself in his kiss, she felt almost faint when she realized that every fiber of her body was responding to the man holding and kissing her as if his life depended on it.

  “Is that better?” he murmured after pulling his lips away, but only a fraction of an inch.

  Amy uttered an affirmative moan, and he pushed her slowly toward the bedroom. Seemingly too impatient, he picked her up and carried her into the small room, which was absolutely quiet, no sounds from the street getting in. In front of the bed, he set her down again and kissed her until they were both out of breath. She felt his hands cup her breasts once again.

  She moaned as she pressed against him, and moved her hands to the waistband of his jeans. She fumbled with his belt and opened the buttons of his jeans, which elicited another hoarse chuckle from him. After a short skirmish, both pants and boxers dropped to the floor. He kicked them out of the way, before pulling down her panties.

  Amy’s heart raced, and her breath came heavy. Patrick laid her on the bed and moved on top of her, which she watched from under half-closed lids. His large hands roamed her naked flesh, which seemed to smolder under his touch. Amy moaned when he sucked her nipples into his hot mouth, one after the other. His hard erection pressed against her thigh. When his hand ran down her rib cage, touched her belly, and finally pushed between her thighs, Amy thought she might lose her mind completely. She gasped for air and buried a hand in his hair, while her other hand grabbed his shoulder and dug in her fingernails.

  The touch of his fingers on her most sensitive parts, together with his suckling mouth on her nipple, made her gasp even louder. She yearned to explore his body, to let her hands slide down his chest and abs, down toward the demanding hardness that pushed against her thigh; she yearned to touch it, but Patrick didn’t seem ready to cease his tantalizing caresses. Quite the contrary.

  When his thumb reached the most sensitive spot between her thighs, she moaned his name entreatingly.

  He raised his head, emitted a triumphant grunt, and positioned himself above her.

  Amy put her hands on his hollow cheeks and kissed him. His strong body was shiny with perspiration, which drove her cr
azy with desire.

  “God … Amy,” he whispered huskily, pressing down against her. “Please tell me you have condoms.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. She could hardly focus on anything but his scent, the sensation of his naked flesh on hers, and his panting breath, but she managed to shake her head. “No …”

  His short laugh sounded desperate. He pressed his lips against her temple as his body trembled. “Shit,” he replied with a hint of resigned amusement.

  She swallowed and put her hand against his cheek again. “But I’m on the pill,” she whispered shakily, “and I’m healthy.”

  He groaned, and his eyes searched hers. His features were hard, tense with lust. “I’m healthy, too,” he said, “but I don’t want to pressure you into having sex with me if you’re not certain everything’s okay.”

  Amy looked back into his green eyes and smiled tentatively. “It is, Patrick. I’m sure.”

  It was a few silent moments before he lowered his head and kissed her. What happened then was almost more than Amy could bear.

  With one excruciatingly slow thrust, he entered her deeply, pressed his belly against hers, and moaned loudly against her mouth.

  She almost bit his lip when the delicious friction inside her made her feel electric shocks all over her body. She strained against him and wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. She returned each of his thrusts with a desperate intensity, no longer sure whether it was her own wildly beating heart that she felt in her chest, or his. When he moaned her name, she felt an unfamiliar warmth envelop her.

  A strange ache spread through her lower body. Heat pooled between her thighs, and her skin was more sensitive than ever before.

  She quivered as she clutched at him, then cried out with the feeling she must surely burst, and then Patrick spasmed with a low moan, pressing her close, holding her tight. They remained like that, him still inside her, her body still pressed beneath his, her arms and legs wrapped around his torso, his breath coming ragged. She felt more dizzy, peaceful, and excited than ever before, all at the same time. She felt deaf and blind to anything beyond their little cocoon.