When she bit her lip, he knew he’d won. He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms, nibbling the side of her neck. She tilted her head, allowing him access. “Fine,” she said. “But I’m not getting up at a time that starts with a four to shower, no matter how hot the idea of you and soapy water sounds.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “What if I throw in a breakfast burrito?” His fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse and began to open them slowly.
“If it comes out of one of those two hundred calorie prepped meals and is solely made of egg whites, then no.”
“Fine, I’ll scramble eggs, you can make the toast.” He slid the blouse down her shoulders, kissing a trail along the revealed skin.
Emerson reached for the hem of his T-shirt, and he obliged by releasing her and bending forward so she could pull it over his head. “Eggs are good, but we still haven’t agreed on a time. No alarm should desecrate my ears before six.”
Connor nudged her backwards down the corridor toward his bedroom, taking note of the pretty lace bra she wore. The practical Ms. Dyer had surprised him. “I like this,” he said, running the tip of his finger across the crest of her breast.
“I feel a six a.m. alarm call is a good price to pay for the ability to admire it.” Emerson’s voice wavered as she reached for his belt.
6:00 a.m. He could still squeeze in a swim.
Fuck.
He could even tolerate the congested evening swim if it meant he got to sleep in with Emerson. “Five forty-five, my last offer,” he said, even though he knew he didn’t mean it.
“Deal.” Emerson stepped out of his reach to offer him her hand.
He took it and raised it to his lips. “Deal.”
The way Emerson looked at him, standing just outside his bedroom in her bra and jeans, her dark hair down messy around her shoulders and a look of need on her face, took his breath away.
Somehow in the last three weeks, Emerson Dyer had shifted from a name his family loathed to someone he was curious about, to someone he was starting to care deeply for.
He’d wanted to solve her problems for her as they’d talked over dinner. He’d love her perspective on the industry. He admired the way she talked so freely about the people she worked with, who she appeared to think so much of—something that made him question his own relationship with the people who worked for him.
Who’d have thought that out of all the women on the planet, he’d fall for the daughter of his father’s enemy.
“I really like you, Emerson.”
Emerson blushed slightly, a gentle pink hue that only made her even more appealing. “I like you, too, Connor, very much.”
He took her hand and led her to his room and, for a moment, wondered what she’d think of the space. Deep blues and whites to remind him of the ocean he loved to swim in. They undressed each other in silence, the act feeling almost sacrosanct. When he reached for the covers to pull them back and allow Emerson to slip inside, she kissed his shoulder, the small gesture adding to the intimacy of the moment.
Connor followed her into the bed and pulled Emerson close to him, his arm around her, the length of her body warm against his. Her skin was so smooth to his touch, and he couldn’t get enough. Pressing his lips to hers, he savored the taste of her as his tongue met hers. His hand trailed the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip.
Emerson explored his body with confidence. She placed a kiss to his chest while her hand moved down his abs until it brushed the tip of his dick. When she reached for him, he gasped. “I fucking love it when you touch me,” he groaned.
The firm hold made him twitch.
She moved from his grasp and began to kiss his pecs, his abs, his hip. And he prayed she was heading where he hoped. Unable to take his eyes off her, one of her hands holding the hair from her face and the other holding his dick, Connor wondered how he’d gotten so fucking lucky.
“Emerson,” he warned.
“Let me,” she murmured.
When she licked the tip, every muscle in his body tightened. When she took him deep into her mouth, he lost all sense of rational thought. He tried to form thoughts about ensuring the woman he was with came first, but the way Emerson sucked him gently as she moved up his dick made it impossible.
Part of him just wanted to come right then, with her perfect lips pursed around him and a fierce look of concentration and lust singing in her eyes. But he wanted a lot more than a quick orgasm. Hell, they could save that for the shower in the morning.
Stretching forward, he reached for her arms and pulled her back on his body. Emerson squealed at the action, and despite the mood, he couldn’t help but laugh. “You keep doing that and you’ll be going to bed unfulfilled because I swear I’d pass out straight after.”
She knelt with her legs on either side of his. His dick between them. With her eyes fixed on him, she slid both hands over his length.
“Fuck,” he moaned and blindly reached his arm in the direction of his bedside table, pulling the drawer open to find a condom.
Once it was on, he reached for Emerson’s wrists to stop their movement. “My turn,” he said, placing her palms on her thighs.
“Connor,” she gasped as his finger touched her clit.
Gently, Connor eased one finger inside, watching Emerson as she began to rock against him. He added another and, with his other hand, reached for one of her breasts, teasing the nipple.
“Oh, God. Yes,” she cried, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the sensations he was able to give her.
His dick ached to be inside, a throbbing distraction. Watching Emerson fall apart, watching the way she chased her own orgasm so confidently was erotic, but he was inherently a selfish man. He pulled his fingers out of her slowly, teasing her as he placed them into his mouth, sucking on them as he tasted the sweetness of her. “When you come, I want to be in you,” he said gruffly. “Come here.”
Emerson crawled up the bed a little, her knees on either side of his hips. He took hold of his dick, and Emerson slid slowly down on him. “Like this,” she gasped.
Connor rose to meet her, the friction taking his breath away. “Yeah,” he said. “Just like that.” He placed his hands on her ass, encouraging her to rock against him in the same way she had against his finger. Looking down at the point where they merged, him seated deep within her, he watched her swollen lips rub the length of his dick, almost bringing him to his breaking point.
Emerson fell against his chest, her breath coming in sharp erratic breaths as she began to moan. “Yes, yes,” she repeated, her actions becoming more frantic. He could feel her begin to squeeze him, and he could feel his own orgasm build.
She pressed her lips to his, a wild uninhibited look in her eyes. And then she gasped and shuddered against him, losing herself to the sensations. “Connor.”
The feel of her squeezing him tightly was enough to have him thrust against her, deeper and firmer, faster and wetter. Thrust after thrust in pursuit of his own climax. “Fuck, you feel good, Em,” he groaned.
He squeezed her ass, holding her in place while he took everything he wanted from her body, coming in hard jerks that ripped his soul out.
His body continued to shudder for a moment, prolonging the exquisite pleasure that coursed through his veins. Emerson, still breathless, gasped against his shoulder as he tried to control his own breathing. He’d never experienced anything quite like this with anyone else.
This was something unique.
This was something special.
And in a startling moment of clarity, he could imagine them together, permanently.
Connor reached for the sheet and pulled it up over Emerson’s back. Sweat and air conditioning wasn’t always pleasant, and he didn’t want her to get cold. Nor did he want her to leave her comfortable position draped across his body, despite the fact he would have to deal with the condom in a minute or two.
Emerson lifted slightly, her weight on one arm. “I need to be honest,” she s
aid quietly, almost shyly. “I think I might be falling for you, Connor.”
Connor pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and allowed his finger to trail her cheeks. Flushed from their lovemaking, she looked sated and less worried than she had been during dinner. “I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he said, honestly. “I don’t know where this is headed, but it’s more than a casual thing to me.”
Emerson rewarded him with a smile that reached her eyes. “It’s the same for me too. I’m past the point of playing games and wondering if I should text you or not. We’re exclusive now, right?”
“Damn straight, I don’t like to share.” Connor kissed her, but a kernel of worry filtered through the otherwise perfect moment. What kind of games would his father think he was playing?
He couldn’t keep Emerson a secret, not when they had just declared this was something more than a casual hookup.
But for the foreseeable future, he couldn’t let him know, either.
Chapter Seven
“Liv, Jake,” Emerson called out, kicking off her shoes as she set her purse on the old wooden bench in their father’s hallway.
“In the kitchen,” Olivia replied.
The sweet scent of apples and cinnamon greeted Emerson as she entered the craft kitchen made from pine that had taken on a yellow glow. Anxiety-baking, as Olivia called it, was her sister’s way of navigating the here and now.
Perhaps I should give it a go. She’d spent the last several days going through her father’s business emails and found no record as to whom the loan her father had taken out had been paid to. There was no paper trail on his company laptop or in the filing cabinets.
“Smells good in here,” Emerson said.
Olivia switched from rinsing dishes in the sink to washing her hands. “Figured the least I could do for you guys is throw together a lasagna and pie.”
“Lasagna? You made my favorite?” Jake said, coming in through the back door, the sleeves of his sweater dirtied with mud. Jake waved his dirty hands near Olivia’s face. She squealed and flicked tap water at him. “Your gutter is now clear, and you’re welcome.”
Emerson grinned at the bickering. “Apple pie’s my favorite. You trying to butter us up for something, Liv?”
Olivia turned to face them. “It’s time to get on with things. With life, work.”
Emerson cast a look toward Jake, who immediately looked concerned. “You don’t need to,” he said. “We’ve got this covered.” He circled the air around the kitchen, meaning they would continue to help Olivia with bills and the like.
When Olivia had been at her worst, their father had suggested Olivia give up her apartment and move back home with him. Fortunately, his house had no mortgage, and Emerson and Jake had agreed to keep paying Olivia’s salary while she was off work. But the upkeep was expensive, and Olivia needed help with chores to focus on her recovery.
“I know you guys would.” Olivia reached for Jake’s hand and squeezed it. “But I’ve been speaking to my therapist. I’m finding it hard being here…without Dad. It’s like a time warp. I wake at seven every morning missing the sound of the coffee grinder. I’m not like you two. The quiet drives me mad. I have zero interest in the garden. Someone else should be here. It’s a family home. And I feel like moving out and working again are the first steps in getting back to normal.”
Emerson listened as Olivia spoke. Her sister seemed…hopeful.
“Move in with me for a while,” Jake said. “I’ll tone down the farting if you promise to brush your teeth twice a day.”
Emerson smacked his arm as Olivia laughed. “You are such a jerk,” she muttered.
“I know I could live with either of you, but I think I’d like to head back downtown. I know I can’t do it until this place sells, but I think I’d like to buy instead of rent. Get on the property ladder like you two.”
Emerson’s heart stopped beating. The house. With no mortgage. It had to be worth at least five hundred thousand. With five hundred thousand, they could pay back the loan if they needed to and at least make a start on renovating the distillery. They could start with buying two new stills, even if they had to be installed in their current setup, and retire Patience to the smaller-batch runs and for new product development.
“But I started to see what I could find. Look,” Liv said, opening her laptop on the kitchen counter to show them a photograph of a listed property she liked near the university. “It’s only a one-bed. With the down payment, my mortgage would be so much lower than the rent. And that would be one less thing stressing me out. Knowing I’d be in a stronger financial position. Just looking and seeing a future made me feel so much better today.”
Olivia linked arms with Emerson, who could barely speak. “Look, Em. Don’t you think that bookcase I have in my room right now would look great in that space?”
“Yeah…fabulous,” Emerson said with all the energy she could muster. How could she consider asking Olivia to punt her recovery for the distillery? Hadn’t the only thing she’d wanted all along was for Olivia to be back to her happy self? This was the closest she had seen Olivia in months.
She’d intended to tell them about their father’s loan but planned to wait until she knew what the bank intended. Causing them unnecessary stress wasn’t the right thing to do. It hadn’t occurred to her to kick Olivia out of their father’s house until she was ready. But if she was ready now, they could sell, give Liv her share, and then she could see if Jake would agree to put their remaining balance to the distillery.
Emerson mentally shook her head. That wouldn’t work. Olivia wouldn’t stand for the two of them putting more in than she was expected to…and she couldn’t do it without Olivia knowing because the split of the company would need updating, a document they’d all have to sign.
“Do you not like it, Em?” Concern etched Olivia’s features.
“No, I love it,” she managed to say. “If we are putting this place up for sale, we should start thinking about clearing it out and getting it staged.”
There was time to figure it out. None of them wanted to see the distillery go under…and neither she nor Jake would want to save the distillery at the risk of Olivia’s progress. It seemed like there could be enough money to do both.
But wouldn’t it be amazing if the insurance came through, the house sale came through, and there was an explanation for her father’s loan? She was expecting the details to come from the bank soon.
Emerson smiled, this time for real. Olivia and Jake had their heads in the laptop, and she had access to the funds they might need.
After dinner, filled to the brim with apple pie and ice cream, Emerson drove home and let herself into the house. She had the urge to ask Connor to come over, but it seemed pathetic that after less than forty-eight hours, she was craving his touch.
As she slipped into bed, her phone vibrated.
My bed feels pretty empty without you in it. Cx
Emerson smiled. She snapped a quick picture of the other side of her bed. Mine, too.
A minute later, he replied. I don’t know your limits yet, sweetheart. But want to get off with me? Virtually?
Yes, she replied, jumping out of bed. She had no idea what he had in mind, but she bet it didn’t include the Scandinavian-patterned pajamas she picked up in a sale. Whipping her top off over her head, she ran to her dresser. Black push-up bra, that would do. And the black silk slip edged in lace that she rarely wore because the lace itched her skin…she’d manage for thirty minutes.
She pulled her pajama bottoms off, put her bra and slip on, and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Tousled hair, flushed cheeks from the very idea of getting it on over the airwaves with Connor. Too bad she’d washed off her mascara already.
Hi. Connor had sent her a picture of himself sitting up in bed, his chest naked. One hand was in his hair, his muscles flexing. Damn, the man’s body was something else, but it was the smile that flipped her heart.
Emerson opened her camera. She could
n’t do the same pose. So, she lifted one knee and draped her arm off it, and as she did so, the strap of the lace slip fell off her shoulder, revealing her bra. Perfect. She sent it with the return greeting that matched Connor’s.
Fuck me, Em. Was totally not expecting that. Will store in my spank bank for future reference. You look good in black.
His response warmed her. She didn’t really have it in her to play the role of seductress. You look good naked.
Like this, or more? The message was accompanied by another photograph, this one taken a little farther out. He’d lowered the sheet so she could see both of those V-lines near his hips and a covered but clearly hard erection.
Her stomach clenched in anticipation, and she squeezed her knees together.
Emerson rolled onto her side, grateful that she’d shaved her legs that morning, and slid the hem of the slip up her leg until it just skimmed the top of her thigh. She bit her lip and took the picture, but before she sent it, she zoomed in as far as her phone would let her to make sure nothing truly private was showing. The lamp light cast a bronze glow over her skin and somehow made her look…sexier. At least sexier than she felt on a daily basis. Or sexier than she’d felt since before meeting Connor.
I’m stroking myself, imagining coming on that thigh of yours. And it’s hard to type with one thumb. He’d added a crying laughing emoji.
Emerson opened her drawer and pulled out her vibrator. She snapped a photograph of it. I’ve got a stand-in for you.
Rolling onto her back, she turned it on, and placed it on the spot she knew would get her off quickest.
Connor responded. Fuck, I wish I could see that in real life sometime. The idea of you using it right now is such a fucking turn-on.
Too far past the point of responding, she rocked against it, tightening her abs as she thought of Connor in his bed masturbating to a photograph of her and the mental image of exactly what she was doing right now.
It was enough to send her over the edge, sensations coursing through her, that immediate moment of almost blacking out from the pleasure of it all. It took her breath away.
Love in Numbers: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Love Distilled Book 1) Page 12