Just the Man She Needs by Gwynne Forster

she could hold him and love him until she was drunk on him. She realized that he had stopped laughing, and when the silence brought her back to the moment, the expression on his face told her that he had read her thoughts and that he wanted what she wanted. He dropped a bill on the table, stood, held out his hand and said, “Let’s go. If I walk up those stairs with you, we’ll be here all night.”
    As they walked to his rented car, she said, “I didn’t know that was an inn.”
    “It boasts that Thomas Jefferson once slept there. Of course, it’s been renovated and modernized since then. We’ll have to come back when we have more time. There’s so much more to see in this area.”
    At the airport, they got through security and arrived at the gate a few minutes before time to board the shuttle. He didn’t ask where she’d like to sit, but took the seat next to the window as he’d done previously.
    “Are you comfortable?” he asked her. She nodded, and with her hand clasped in his, he leaned back, closed his eyes and remained that way until the plane landed in New York.
    “Have you been asleep?” she asked him as they made their way through the terminal.
    “Not a wink. I’ve learned that silence can speak louder than words.”
    “Yes,” she said. “So have I, and the last fifty minutes added credence to that idea.”
    He didn’t ask what she meant, but winked and smiled. He gave the taxi driver her address, took her hand and, as far as she could tell, was as comfortable as if he’d known her for years. She wished she could say the same. She didn’t think she had ever been so emotionally out of sorts. Not that she was confused; she wasn’t. She just wished she knew where she was headed.
    It didn’t surprise her that he paid the taxi driver, got out of the cab and walked with her into the apartment building in which she lived. And she told herself to calm down when he got on the elevator and continued to her apartment with her. She fumbled around in her bag for her door key, embarrassed that it took her so long to find it. When she located the key, her fingers trembled so much that she could not insert it into the key hold. He covered her hand with his own and steadied it while she turned the key. She looked up at him, but couldn’t read his facial expression.
    “I want to come in with you.” His voice reminded her of a sensuous saxophone enticing dancers to move to its rhythm.
    She opened the door, walked in and turned to him. “I didn’t want you to kiss me in the hallway.”
    “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked her.
    “Yes. If you want to.”
    “If I want to? On that plane and in that taxi, you saw an example of self-control. I wanted you in my arms so badly. Hell, it’s damned near unreal, how I felt and what I’m feeling.” His hands seemed bigger as they clasped her to his body and he began stroking her back. She longed to feel the man’s power, but she didn’t dare provoke it. Still, she could hardly bear the tension as he stared down at her, his eyes hot with desire and his bottom lip quivering. She couldn’t stand the wait.
    “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Stop doing this to me. “Kiss—”
    He swallowed the rest of her words. With her hand at the back of his head increasing the pressure of his kiss, she let him know how much she needed his embrace. Then, realizing that he might not stop if she didn’t call a halt, she broke the kiss, kissed his cheek and stepped back.
    “I think we should leave some for another time. Don’t you?” she said in an attempt to bring levity to a situation fraught with tension. “When we’re together tomorrow, let’s try to keep the heavy stuff in abeyance, Ashton. I wouldn’t be comfortable with a deeper level of intimacy at this point in our relationship. Can you handle that?”
    “I can handle it, and I agree with you. Between now and tomorrow, think of a way for us to avoid it.”
    “I’ll do my best.” She tweaked his nose.