by Jill Shalvis
He stared at her, heart pounding as he realized the truth in that. He’d given her his heart. His soul. He opened his mouth to tell her that, but she kissed him, long and deep and warm, and he lost himself in her. Still goners, he let her unzip his jeans while his hands slid up her belly to her breasts, which knocked a gasp out of her, and a groan from him.
She was warm and full and perfect.
Beneath his palms, her nipples were already hard, and he rasped his thumbs over them, feeling them pucker even more. Not enough. He flicked open her bra and tugged the straps down her arms, sucking in a breath at the sight of her. Lowering his head, splaying his hands on her bare back to pull her even closer, and opened his mouth on her.
“If I get bit by a mosquito,” she gasped, “I’m coming after you.”
“Come after me.”
She huffed out a laugh as she tugged open his pants. Making herself at home inside of them, she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking…squealing—which was very ego-boosting, until he realized the squeal was for the bee that buzzed by them.
“Did you bring bug spray?”
“You’ll be okay,” he promised.
“How do you know?”
He rasped his thumbs over her bared nipples. “I’ll keep you covered.”
“I’m pretty uncovered, Stone.”
He spread out his shirt on the rock behind him, lay her on it, and then towered over her, his gaze sweeping down the length of her gorgeous body as he pulled a condom from his pocket.
“Always prepared,” she murmured. “Like a Boy Scout.”
“Not quite.” He slid down her body, spreading open-mouthed kisses as he went, loving the taste of her, the scent of her, the way she arched and writhed beneath his touch. He could feel her heart pounding in excitement, in arousal and need, and his own matched it, beating in tune to hers.
Just sex? Hell, no.
But he could admit he understood why she wanted to believe it. That she was leaving certainly played into it some, though actually that worked in her favor.
It gave her permission to try to keep her heart out of this.
Good luck, he thought, because his heart hadn’t had any such luck at all. He knew it. He accepted it.
Just as he accepted that this scared the living shit right out of her. This connection, this bond.
She didn’t do connections or bonds, at least not effectively. It wasn’t all her fault. She hadn’t had the best of luck keeping people in her life. They didn’t tend to stick.
But he did. He was good at it, too. Good at a couple of things, he thought, kissing her belly, her ribs as she inhaled sharply, going tense beneath him, quivering with anticipation. Beneath his mouth, her skin was heating up, flushing with arousal. His fingers wrapped around her ankle, bending her knee, placing her foot on the rock so that she was open for him.
Oh, yeah. She wanted him. He let his thumb glide over her creamy heat and she shivered.
“Such a bad idea,” she murmured, even as she rocked up to meet his touch.
“Bad is relative.”
“Yes, but I’m here to learn to be laid-back and chill.” She came up on her elbow and jabbed a pointy finger toward him. “All you ever do is rev me up.”
“Sometimes, you have to rev up first.”
“You just made that up.”
“Nope.”
“Seriously, you just pulled that right out of your ass.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Pay attention. The instructions. You have to repeat them to make them stick. Do you remember them?”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Then close your eyes.”
She was looking up at him with a mix of heat and irritation and affection. She hadn’t looked away, not once, and that was so damn attractive. She was a woman who wasn’t coy, a woman who might take a hell of a long time—weeks, thank you very much—to decide to give him a shot, but once she made up her mind, she was on board. Need and yearning and lust swirled in his gut at that, and then she smiled at him and stopped his heart.
Stopped it on a dime. “Emma.”
She sighed, rolled her eyes, and then obediently closed them, her face still tilted up to his in a trusting manner that reminded him that this was about far more than hormones and lust. “You are so damn beautiful,” he murmured, taking in her creamy skin, her mouth, including that full bottom lip he wanted to nibble on for his next meal. “What comes next?”
“Be patient.”
“Yeah.” Leaning in, he kissed her temple, her jaw. Brushing the tip of his nose along her cheek, he kissed the sweet spot beneath her ear, and absorbing her shiver, gently sank his teeth into her earlobe.
She drew in a quick breath, and shivered again as her fingers closed around his biceps. “Stone…”
Cupping her face, he kissed her. Kissed her until he couldn’t have come up with his own name if his life depended on it.
She opened her sleep, sexy eyes. “Go with my instincts,” she whispered.
It took him a moment to realize she was quoting the third rule. “Yeah.” His voice was husky and a little thick. He didn’t know exactly what her instincts would be, but he sincerely hoped it didn’t include pulling her clothes back on.
She surprised and shocked him by pulling him down on top of her, rolling so that he was lying flat on his back on the rock and she was straddling him. Wrapping her fingers around him she lifted her hips. Then, slowly—so slowly she almost killed him—she sank over the top of him, threatening to blow his mind and his wad as he entered her, and he gripped her hips in desperation when she rocked against him. “Wait,” he gasped. God. “Don’t move.” He was a fraction of a second from coming. “Christ, Em, don’t move or I’ll—”
The woman never listened. She moved. She rocked her hips again just as she sucked his lower lip into her mouth, and that was it for him. He thrust up into her, and then again, until with a panting cry, she came, and he was right there with her.
The next morning, Spencer stepped into Wishful Delights from Serena’s living quarters.
Serena was behind the counter, her back to him, stirring something in a large bowl, and his mouth watered.
For the woman, not the chocolate, though he happened to know that she made the most amazing chocolate, as he’d spent some time last night licking it off her body. As he’d already known, she was truly the hottest, sexiest woman he’d ever met. What he hadn’t expected…she was also the sweetest, warmest woman he’d ever met. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” She looked at him, and the duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. “I was thinking the weather was going to be really bad again today.”
“I have to get back, Serena.”
She nodded. “Well, I guess all fun has to come to an end some time, right?”
“Yeah.” He set the bag down and moved toward her. “I was hoping you could take a little break before I go.”
“I could, but you should know, I only take breaks for orgasms.”
He laughed, then pulled her out from behind the counter and flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED.
She laughed. “Aw, now you’re just teasing me—”
He put his hands on her face and kissed her. Kissed her until he didn’t know his own damn name, until she was clinging to him, panting for breath, until it took everything he had to pull free and reach into his pocket for the envelope he’d put there.
“What’s this?” she whispered, still breathing heavy.
“I called a cab.”
Her eyes flew up to his. “So that was a good-bye kiss?”
“I hope not.” He kissed her again, softer this time. “More than anything I can think of, I’d like this not to be a good-bye. Come see me in New York, Serena. We’ll go to amazing restaurants and moan over food together.”
“Come to New York?” She sputtered over that for a moment. “Are you crazy?”
“Uh huh. And you are too. You’re bored here. Take a vacation, come visit me.”
She loo
ked at him as if trying to find the catch. “And then what?”
“And then I’ll come visit you. We’ll take turns.”
“That sounds so…civilized.”
“It won’t be, trust me.”
She didn’t laugh. She stood there, stunned. “It was just one night.”
“Yes. One really great night.”
She softened. “Yeah.”
“We could have a lot more.”
She just looked at him, beautiful and gorgeous.
“Tell you what.” He leaned in for another kiss. His last, he promised himself. “When you’re ready, you open this.” He pressed the envelope in her hands and took one last long look at her. “Good-bye, Serena.”
She lifted her face from the envelope she held between tight fingers. “This isn’t a Dear John letter?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Because I do the dumping.”
He smiled, his heart panging at the look of bewilderment on her face. “Would you like to dump me before I go? Would that make you feel better?”
Her eyes got suspiciously bright at that. “Shut up, Spence.”
He gently tugged on a strand of her hair, and smiled. Though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, he turned around and walked away.
Emma woke up entangled in Stone’s warm, strong arms. Not a bad way to wake up. They’d gotten back to her place late last night and had somehow ended up in her shower.
Together.
And then in her bed.
Also together.
He was still out cold, sleeping deeply, and she leaned in, pressing her nose to his throat, inhaling deeply before pulling back to stare at his face. He had the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a man, thick and inky black. His jaw was rough with a few days growth of stubble. She remembered wondering how it would feel on her skin, and now she knew.
Amazing.
She’d always tended to sleep alone, and she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up with a man. She’d been missing out because there was definitely something about waking up like this, so close she could feel the slow and steady beat of his heart against hers. If she’d been the canoodling kind, she might have been tempted to snuggle in even deeper.
Even as she thought it, his arms tightened on her. In his sleep, he let out a shuddery sigh, burying his face in her hair as he relaxed.
She was leaving. He’d come visit her. She knew this. But she also knew he’d hate it in her world. She had no idea where that thought came from but suddenly it was front and center.
Her world.
She hadn’t thought about it in awhile…yet she was going back to it, tomorrow.
A knock came from the front door. With a last look at the gorgeous man in her bed, she slipped free, threw on sweats and made her way to the door. Serena stood on the top step in her black and white, sunglasses on, nose in the air as usual. “Serena.” Emma ran a hand over what was undoubtedly a very bad hair day. “You get Spencer off?”
Serena blinked, for a minute looking…guilty. “What?”
“You get him to the airport okay?”
“Oh! Right…” She flashed a smile. “Yes. He…appreciated the ride.”
“Good.” She looked and sounded like the same old Serena; gorgeous and sharp, but something was off. Emma pulled the sunglasses off Serena and looked into her eyes, and then nearly staggered a step backwards at the emotion blaring there. “What’s wrong?”
Serena shook her head and turned away.
“If this isn’t a business call, I’m going back to bed.”
“Okay, fine, if you’re going to browbeat me about it.” Serena turned back to Emma, who raised a brow. “He asked me to New York, and of course he’s crazy, but I just wanted you to know I’m…thinking about it.”
“Spence?”
“No, the postman. Yes, Spence! Keep up. Jesus.”
“Spence asked you to New York.”
“Yeah.” Serena thrust a bag into Emma’s hands. “The best croissants on this side of the Divide.”
“Is this a bribe of some kind?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
“If I said I was fine with you and Spence, that I’ve always been fine with you and Spence, can I still keep the croissants?”
Serena’s face filled with relief. “So we’re good? I can still be my mean old self, and you’ll still be your stick-up-your-ass self? We’ll co-exist?”
Emma took a bite of a croissant rather than dwell on the stick-up-her-ass comment, and nearly died and went to heaven. “We’re good, Serena. For better or worse.”
As Serena drove off, a set of arms surrounded Emma from behind, pulling her back against a hard, warm chest.
She turned in the circle of Stone’s arms and faced him.
“I’m glad,” he murmured, his voice morning gruff and bringing tingles to her erotic zones, of which she had far more than she remembered.
“About?”
“That you’re okay with her and Spencer knocking boots.”
She just soaked up his warmth and breathed him in. How terrifying was it that she could do this every morning and not get tired of it?
“Our last day,” he whispered, his hands all over her. “Right?”
“Yes.” She was leaving tomorrow, come hell or high water. She waited, expecting him to say something or maybe to try to talk her out of going. Instead, he pulled her back inside, kicked the door closed and pressed her back against it, holding her hands in his, pulling them high above her head as he kissed her blind. God, his mouth. And those hot, demanding kisses—
“Love it when you hum like that,” he murmured, his lips against hers. “I came when you made that sound last night, did you know that?”
She smiled and rocked against his most impressive morning erection. “Should we go back to bed?”
“Not going to make it that far.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Here then?” she asked breathlessly.
“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” He let out a rough sound of pleasure when she rocked again. Gripping her hips, he swiveled his head around to eye the small desk where she’d been tossing her purse and keys whenever she walked in. Twisting them both around, he set her on top of it and slipped his hands up her top to cup her braless breasts.
“Stone.” Her need level ramped up a notch. “I don’t think it’ll hold.”
“It’ll hold.” With another rough sound, he easily and efficiently stripped her out of the sweats she’d so hurriedly slipped into.
She was amused at his hurry, and turned-on beyond belief. He produced a condom, and in the next minute, his sweats were down, her legs wrapped around his waist, and all her amusement fled, replaced by a desperate hunger. He slipped his fingers between her thighs and let out a heartfelt groan that she was already wet for him “Hold onto me. Yeah, like that—”
He switched his fingers for something better, bigger, harder, and when he pushed into her, he groaned, dropping his forehead to