Break Away (The Baltimore Banners Book 5)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "Are you sure you’re okay to drink that? You don’t usually drink quite so much. I don’t want to carry you home."

  "Oh. You’re probably right." Emily offered him a smile then leaned in and kissed him. Not a quick, chaste kiss. No, this was a full, deep, coaxing kiss that sent his blood rushing south. It didn’t help that Emily ran her hand up his leg, her touch searing the skin beneath the denim of his jeans. Her hand drifted higher, the tips of her fingers dangerously close to his semi-hard cock. JP grabbed her hand and pulled it away, his stomach knotted with anticipation at the heated look in her eyes.

  "Maybe you should carry me home anyway."

  Her voice was a throaty whisper, her breath hot against his throat. Everything in JP tightened and all thought fled his mind. All thought except one: getting Emily home. Alone. Now.

  JP yanked the wallet from his back pocket and tossed some bills on the table, then stood so fast he nearly toppled the chair. He pulled Emily to her feet, pressing a quick kiss against her mouth, then shot a vague look around the table.

  "We need to get going. You guys have fun."

  He ignored the knowing looks and laughter that followed them out the door, caring only about Emily. About the invitation in her soft eyes and the promise in her expression as she gazed up at him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Hard flesh warmed under her touch, vibrant, alive. Responsive. Every touch, every kiss and nip of her teeth elicited a response from the man under her. A sharp intake of breath, a hoarse moan. Thrilling, exciting. Powerful.

  Emily dragged the tips of her fingers along JP’s chest, her touch feather-light as she outlined the hard peaks of his flat nipples. His hands fisted at his sides but he didn’t move. Wouldn’t move, because she stopped each time he did.

  She slid down his body, watching his skin pebble under her touch as her fingers skimmed the hard muscles of his defined abs. A soft line of hair trailed from his stomach and she traced it with the tip of her index finger. Down, lower, until she circled the broad base of his erection. JP groaned, his hips thrusting as she ran her fingers along his hard length, up to the bead of moisture gathering at the smooth tip. She bent her head, her tongue darting out, tasting.

  His cock jumped at her touch and she smiled, looked up at him. JP’s eyes were closed, his head thrown back against the soft pillows, his jaw clenched as she teased him. She heard the hiss of his breathing, watched the rise and fall of his chest with each ragged breath.

  Emily bent closer, teasing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs with her lips and tongue. The ends of her hair dragged over his flesh, teasing him, tempting him. He had told her once, long ago, how much he loved the feel of her hair against his skin. From the tension humming through him, that hadn’t changed.

  Emily smiled again, reveling in each response, each groan, each ragged breath as she kissed her way down his body. Her nails skimmed his skin, hard then soft. Hard again. She shifted onto her knees and reversed direction, now kissing her way back up his other leg, her fingers kneading hard muscle and firm flesh.

  Until she reached her target.

  She leaned down and took him into her mouth, heard the swift intake of his breath as she sucked, licked. Back and forth, deeper, tasting. His body bucked against her, driving him deeper into her mouth.

  "Emilie." Her name was a hoarse growl, nearly lost in the sounds of their breathing. Hands clasped around her head, twisted into her hair. Stopping her? Holding her in place?

  She didn’t care, just kept sucking, her tongue swirling around the smooth tip, stroking, nipping. His hips thrust again, harder. Emily dug her hands into his thighs, feeling thick muscles clench under her touch as he tried to move.

  Whispered French, too soft and fast for her to understand, wrapped around her. She was caught up in his frenzy, on the edge of losing control herself as she sucked, harder, deeper, wanting to feel him lose control. Needing him to lose control. To take him, to taste him.

  His fingers tangled in her hair, tightening, as his body tensed. His hips thrust once, twice. A hoarse growl echoed around her as he lost himself, as he lost control. Yet she didn’t stop, couldn’t, not until his hands closed over her arms and he dragged her up his body.

  His dark eyes met hers, something flashing in their depths before he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss that left her breathless. But she wasn’t the only one; she could feel the rise and fall of his own chest beneath her, hear the heavy pull of air as he tried to catch his own breath.

  "Ma chère. Mon Amour. Christ." He traced her lower lip with the tip of one finger then smiled, a sweet soft smile unlike any she had ever seen from him before. "I think you are trying to kill me."

  Emily gave him a soft smile in return then lowered her head to his chest, sighing as his arms closed around her. A few minutes went by before he shifted, rolling to his side so they were facing each other. He leaned down and grabbed the blankets, pulling them up so they were both covered. Then he propped his head in his hand and watched her. Just watched her, the expression in his dark eyes nearly unreadable.

  Emily brushed the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears. She tried to meet his gaze, tried to figure out what he was thinking. But his gaze was too intense, too piercing, and she looked away.

  "What are you thinking, mon coeur?"

  She ran a finger down his chest, the heat of his skin warming her, and shrugged. "I was just wondering…"

  "Wondering what?"

  Emily took a deep breath and glanced up at him, suddenly shy. But the wine from earlier fortified her, gave her courage to ask the question she would have never given voice to otherwise. "Do you think we’d still be together? If things had been…different…five years ago."

  The silence that greeted the question was absolute, the air around them still, heavy. Emily bit down on her lower lip and wished she could take it back. Why had she asked such a stupid thing? Why had she put him on the spot like that? She blinked, ready to apologize, when she was suddenly rolled to her back, the heavy weight of JP’s body pinning her to the bed. His hands cupped her face, his thumb gently rubbing her lower lip as he stared at her. His eyes were dark, deep, intense.

  "I never forgot you, mon coeur. Never." His mouth dropped to hers, the kiss warm, gentle. "I can’t answer the question because I don’t know. I only know what I hope. Here, in my heart."

  He shifted, grabbed her hand and brought it to the center of his chest. His heart thudded beneath her palm, steady, hard. She looked up at him, met his gaze, felt her own heart beat in response. "I wonder if maybe things happened because we weren’t ready. No, because I wasn’t ready. My Emilie…I don’t know what would have happened five years ago. But I know what I want to happen now."

  He kissed her again, deeper, more intense, possessing and claiming. He shifted against her, the tip of his erection probing, sliding, teasing. Emily moved her legs and tilted her hips, inviting him. But he didn’t move, held himself still over her, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that seared her.

  That scared her.

  "Jean-Pierre—"

  "I love you, Emilie."

  Before she could react, before she could respond, he plunged into her. Her head fell back as air rushed from her lungs, as her legs wrapped around his waist and held him to her.

  His thrusts were strong, hard, fast. Over and over, dragging her to the edge before she could completely comprehend what was happening. She grabbed his shoulders, her nails biting into his flesh, looking for something to hold onto, looking for an anchor to steady her in the sudden onslaught.

  Sensation washed over her, wave after wave, ripping her apart, pulling her under. She screamed his name, felt his arms tighten around her, holding her, keeping her safe.

  Over and over, each wave stronger as he dove into her, faster, harder, deeper. Until they were no longer two people, but each an extension of the other. And still it didn’t stop, not until JP plunged into her one last time, her name ripped from his chest as his climax explode
d deep inside her.

  He collapsed on top of her, each harsh breath hot against the skin of her neck, her name a faint whisper in her ear. She turned her head, pressed her lips against his damp brow, closed her eyes.

  "I love you, too, Jean-Pierre."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  JP stepped into the kitchen then stopped, resting his shoulder against the doorframe. Warm scents filled the open area: fresh roasted coffee, eggs, bacon. He closed his eyes and breathed in then opened his eyes again. A smile stretched his lips as his gaze landed on the one sight guaranteed to stir his hunger like no food ever could.

  Emily was standing at the stove, her back to him, using tongs to pull thick strips of bacon from a frying pan and place them on a towel-lined plate. She was wearing one of his long-sleeved t-shirts, the material covering her almost to her knees. He drank in the sight of her, from the sleep-tousled length of her wavy hair to the toes of her bare feet, back to the firm swell of her ass, molded so deliciously by the cotton material of his shirt.

  Her bare ass, because her clothes were still resting in a haphazard pile on the floor of his bedroom, tangled with his own.

  "Are you going to stand there and stare all morning, or are you going to eat?" She looked over her shoulder at him, her smile bright, still a little sleepy. He swallowed as blood rushed south, then groaned when he realized it was hopeless.

  There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about his growing hard-on. At least, not yet.

  "Depends on what’s on the menu."

  Emily placed the last of the bacon on the plate then turned and leaned against the counter, her eyes slowly raking the front of him before stopping at his crotch. She lifted her gaze to his and gave him another smile, this one more teasing.

  "Breakfast. You have practice, and I need to go apartment hunting."

  JP’s mood dimmed. He pushed away from the doorframe and moved to the counter, scooping eggs and bacon and toast onto his plate. Emily handed him a mug of coffee then took her own plate and mug over to the center island and settled onto a stool. JP sat across from her. But instead of digging into the breakfast, he propped his elbows on the counter and just watched her.

  "Don’t you work today?"

  "I took the day off. They know I’m looking for a new place, so it’s not a big deal. Besides, I’ll work on some stuff later tonight from home. I mean, the hotel."

  "Yeah. About that." JP took a hefty swig of coffee then put the cup down. "You don’t need to stay at the hotel or look for an apartment. You can stay here."

  "You mean move in with you."

  "Well, yeah."

  Emily stabbed at a small pile of scrambled egg with her fork but didn’t take a bite. She finally put the fork down then looked over at him, her blue eyes dark and thoughtful. Then she gave him a small smile and shook her head.

  "No."

  "No?" JP repeated the word, just in case he heard wrong. He must have heard wrong. "Why not?"

  "Because it’s too soon, JP."

  "Too soon? But—what about last night?"

  "What about it?"

  "You know. When I told you—" He paused, forced himself to swallow and take a deep breath. Why was it so much harder to say in the light of day? With Emily sitting across from him, watching him with that teasing smile? Imbécile! It shouldn’t be harder.

  He took another deep breath, ignoring the heavy beat of his pulse, and met her eyes with his own steady gaze. "I love you, Emilie."

  The expression in her eyes softened and her smile broadened, lighting her whole face with a soft glow. "I love you, too. But I’m not moving in."

  JP blinked, not sure he heard her correctly. But no, he did. He watched her eat for a minute, not sure what else to say, then muttered a string of French cursing beneath his breath as he attacked his eggs with the fork. Her laughter stopped him mid-stab and he looked up, not bothering to hide his frown.

  "Why is it that I have no trouble understanding the swear words, even after all this time?"

  JP looked away, surprised to feel his face heat in embarrassment. He mumbled an apology then sat there, staring at his food. It made no sense. Why wouldn’t she move in with him?

  Her hand closed over his, squeezing, and he finally looked up at her. "It’s too soon, JP. We haven’t been together long enough to move in together. We still need to get to know each other again, to figure out what we want."

  "I know what I want." JP cringed at the pouting tone in his voice, knowing he sounded like a spoiled child. He sighed, ignoring Emily’s small laugh, and thought of another argument he could use. "What if you’re pregnant?"

  "I’m not pregnant, JP."

  "Last night, we didn’t use anything. You could be—"

  "JP." She leaned across the counter and squeezed his hand again, giving him a small smile that let him know she knew exactly what he was doing. "The timing’s wrong. I’m not pregnant. And even if I was…we didn’t live together before, did we?"

  "That was before. This is different." He didn’t know how it was different, only that it was. He wanted her with him. To fall asleep in her arms at night and to wake in her arms in the morning. Didn’t she understand that?

  Maybe she did, if the expression in her eyes was any indication. But she didn’t say anything, just squeezed his hand once more and gave him a small smile.

  "There are other things I need to figure out, other things I need to take care of first."

  "Like what?"

  "Like my sister." Emily looked away, but not before he saw the sadness creep into her eyes. Guilt swept through him, its weight heavy and accusing in his chest. How selfish was he, that he could so quickly forget? He took a deep breath, trying to dislodge the knot in his stomach.

  "It was because of me, eh? The reason you moved out?"

  "JP—"

  "Tell me. Please."

  Emily toyed with her fork, spinning it back and forth for a few minutes as she stared at it. She finally took a deep breath and let it out, slow, steady. "It’s not just because of you, JP. I told you the other night there were other things going on."

  "Yes, but it would not have happened without me. True?"

  "JP, it’s not that simple. It’s—Monica's marriage was…it wasn't a good one. And the divorce really messed up Monica. It doesn’t help that her ex is a total waste. But she changed. She…I don’t know. She’s harder, maybe a little bitter. And she doesn’t trust anyone."

  "Especially me?"

  Emily looked up at him, her eyes sad. "Men, JP. She doesn’t trust men. She thinks they’re all like her ex. And yeah, I don’t think it helps that you and I—that we—have a history. But it’s not just you. Please don’t think that."

  JP nodded, not sure what else to say. But the guilt stayed with him, all through breakfast, even as he cleaned up while Emily showered. And it was still with him when he took her back to the ridiculous hotel. At least he was able to talk Emily into agreeing not to rush into getting an apartment. At least, not yet. He knew she wasn’t happy, that she suspected of him trying something. But she didn’t question him, just silently nodded her agreement before going up to her room.

  At least she trusted him that much, he thought. Which was a good thing, because while he wanted to do something, he didn’t have any idea what he could do.

  Not until after practice, as he was showering and getting ready to head home. And even as the idea came to him, he tried dismissing it. It was a bad idea. An idea that could completely backfire on him and only make things worse.

  But he didn’t know what else to do, only knew he had to try something.

  And he hoped like hell that it didn’t blow up in his face when he tried.

  Chapter Thirty

  The rink was cold and dim, part of it shrouded in shadows because only half the lights were lit. Déjà vu crept through him as he stepped closer to the ice and he wondered once more why the hell they couldn’t use all the lights at these practices.

  But he wasn’t here for the lights. He wasn
’t even here for practice. At least, not in that sense. He looked around the rink, searching for one familiar face. Was she even here? JP realized she might not be. Emily was back at her hotel room, working. No, pretending to work. It was Thursday. Normally she’d be at practice with Taylor. But not tonight. Tonight, Taylor’s mother was taking her to practice.

  At least, that’s what Emily said. JP realized it might not be true, that maybe her sister only told her that but had every intention of keeping Taylor home instead. He hoped not, hoped he wasn’t the cause of yet another disappointment.

  His eyes scanned the different faces in the crowd, searching for a young girl with light brown hair and a toothless smile. There, over by the bench, struggling to get her skate on. A woman was bent down, trying to help. Even from where he was standing, JP could see the rigid set to the woman’s shoulders, see the frustration in her stiff posture. And Taylor wasn’t smiling. In fact, Taylor looked miserable, like she didn’t even want to be there.

  JP took a deep breath and jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Hoping he looked nonchalant, like he just happened to be there for no reason, he strolled over, a forced smile on his face.

  "Hey, ma lutine. I did not expect to see you here."

  Taylor turned toward him, her toothless smile lighting her face. "John Peer! What are you doing here? Is Aunt Emily with you?"

  Fuck. He hadn’t thought about that. Hadn’t stop to consider that maybe Taylor would expect Emily to be with him. He paused, not quite sure what to say, not when the woman bent over Taylor’s skate turned and leveled a look of cold hostility at him.

  JP smiled again, hoping Taylor wouldn’t see how forced it was, and reached out to ruffle her hair. "No, I’m afraid not, squirt. She’s working. But she told me to tell you she says hi."

  Not a complete lie, since he was sure Emily would have told him such a thing—if she knew he was going to be here.