by Rose Lange
After setting the plates down, she rubbed her hands together. “All right then, let’s get started.”
~ ~ ~
Two and a half hours passed, and she’d not even felt it. They’d fallen into a comfortable work and dinner session, laughing and joking.
“Can you fetch me that report over there?” she asked, trying to hide her intentions.
His eyes averted, she snatched the last crab Rangoon from the plate. Turning her head, she took a quick bite, and stuffed the rest in, relishing in the flavors. She took a satisfying swallow, and at that precise moment, he turned to look at her.
“Did you eat the last Rangoon?”
She grabbed her glass of water and took a swallow.
“No,” she lied.
He set the papers aside and a mischievous grin covered his face. “You’re going to pay for that, you know.”
Without warning, he tickled her mid-section, and in a fruitless attempt to escape, between sidesplitting laughs, they landed in an awkward heap of arms and legs on the other side of the living room. She rolled over papers, notes, pens, highlighters, but that didn’t stop him, which only made her laugh even harder. Her sides ached and her face even more.
“Patrick, okay,” she said between gasps. “Okay, stop. Was that really necessary?”
He nodded. “Yes, I think so.”
Tamping down the bubble of laughter, she tried to keep a straight face, but failed. “You’re such a big kid.”
Silence overtook the room, until she could feel her own heart beating fiercely. No more laughter, no more teasing.
“I don’t know about you, but I had a great time tonight,” he murmured.
“I did, too.”
An awkward, heavy silence clung to the air, and she knew what she wanted to say. She didn’t have the nerve to voice her thoughts out loud. Even as the starving part of her didn’t care anymore, even if regret might visit come morning.
She wanted Patrick.
His body nestled perfectly against hers, sending goose bumps rippling across her arms.
Emma observed his passion-darkened features, and gulped, feeling like a virgin on her wedding night, even if she was far from it. God damn it, she couldn’t help the swell of emotions overriding common sense. Her common sense barometer was broken.
Gently, he cupped her cheek and titled his head. Landing with the softest, gentlest feather-light kisses to her lips.
Her fingers itched, wanted to rip the pesky piece of material between them, away. For crying out loud, you’d think she’d never been with a member of the opposite sex before. She’d never wanted anyone as fiercely as she wanted Patrick. Her heart pounded like a kick drum, simply by the way he looked at her: with pure heat, pure fire shining from his face.
He broke the kiss, and she observed his jaw clenching and unclenching. “If I stay, we both know I won’t be leaving until morning. This is a bad idea.”
Frankly tired of playing it safe, of depriving herself, she was about open her mouth to speak but suddenly couldn’t form words. She saw the inner battle he’d lost written on his face.
As if some other force was at work, she wrapped her arms around him and wove her fingers through his hair.
“I like bad ideas,” she murmured.
Her breath stilled as she waited for a response. When his lips claimed her mouth in another sweet kiss that turned wild within seconds.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, while his mouth continued devouring and tasting her. His tongue greeted hers, an open-mouthed kiss like sticky nectar, and addicting. She desperately wanted more.
Then, he paused only long enough to ask, “Which bedroom is yours?”
Chapter 8
Air whooshed out of her lungs as, with minimal effort, Patrick picked her up and drew her against him. Emma wrapped her legs around his torso as her center quite nicely nestled into his mid-section. She relished the brawn of his shoulders, but still, she could never be close enough.
Greed overtook her thoughts. She was hardly able to wait until all that naked, male warmth pressed against her.
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, while he continued his sensual exploration. He gifted her neck with warm, wet kisses, and helplessly, she bit her lower lip. He grunted and gripped her backside. The tight pressure in her lungs damned near bubbled over. Sensations intensified as he grazed kisses along her lips, jawline, and neck.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, an amused tone in his voice. “Where’s your room?”
Shaking her head, she opened her eyes and assessed their surroundings. They stood in the middle of the living room, the floor littered with various papers, pens, and vacant plates, empty boxes of Chinese takeout beside them.
A smile crept onto her lips, as she decided she liked that term of endearment.
“Second door, to your left,” she offered.
Finally, they arrived at their destination. Nerves grew and swelled in her lower belly.
She opened her eyes and tentatively buried her nose in the crook of his neck and shoulders. Relishing his scent, the feel of him. Like a starving trucker at an all-you-can-eat buffet, she couldn’t wait to devour him.
He gently laid her on the bed, and she reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. The curtains had been pulled tight long before he’d arrived and the light cast a soothing glow across the room.
Rising, she crawled on her knees toward the edge of the bed where he stood, a wicked grin spread across his face. She didn’t pause to think as she whipped his tie off the rest of the way, tossing it aside. Stealthy fingers unbuttoned his shirt until it met the floor. She then moved to his belt, and soon his pants fell to the floor. Reverently, she grasped either side of his face, and covered his mouth with hers, and he responded. Heat enveloped her being and forced her toes into the mattress. Grasping her around the waist, he lifted the edge of her tank until bare skin met bare skin. She helped him along then backed up slightly, removing the scrap of material.
“Damn, baby, we need to slow down. You’re driving me insane.” The rough, husky tone of his voice only made her want him more.
She shook her head. “I’ve waited long enough. Turn yourself loose on me. Please, Patrick.”
Frustrating seconds passed, and before she knew it, she was flat on her back, his arms on either side of her head. Hard, perfect muscles mere inches from her waiting fingertips. He leaned in closer, his chest pressed against hers, making her insides come unhinged.
“Don’t you think we’ve still got too many clothes on?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes over her body. “I could say the same about you.”
Swiftly, he stood, and removed his boxers, giving her the time she needed to divest of her own clothing, but she got distracted.
Her eyes caught sight of his glorious erection springing free. Holy hell, his form was spectacular. Well-muscled, sinewy, with dips and planes she’d love to glide her tongue along. Then her eyes dropped to his large, already hard, cock, jutting proudly from his body. Her insides stirred at the sight of him.
She shook her head and removed the rest of her clothing. Her fingers poised over her garter, but his voice halted her.
“Leave them, I want the pleasure of removing them,” he said, his voice husky.
Lifting the covers away from the bed, she lay back down, naked other than her garters, then watched and waited. The hungry expression on his face stole what little breath was left, and finally, he rejoined her until they were face-to-face and nose-to-nose, their breaths intermingling.
He backed up and grasped one leg, slowly unfastening the garter with a swift click, followed by the exquisite removal of her stocking, before giving the other leg the same treatment.
Oh fuck, but it didn’t stop there. He lifted her leg, gifting kisses
along her ankle, while cradling her foot in a worshipful manner. She sucked her stomach in, attempting to keep herself emotionally together, but it was hopeless.
She gazed at his handsome face, and it was as if six years had never passed. As if the most natural place in the world to be was right here in his arms.
He paused, assessing her. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yes, oh hell yes.”
Leaning forward, he spread kisses along her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, before going traveling to her jaw and neckline. Experienced fingers smoothed down her cheeks and toward her breasts, before grasping her backside. He stroked the sensitive flesh back and forth, and she nearly bucked her hips off the bed as his mouth closed over one of her breasts. She arched her back, into his touch, inviting him to take more.
Oh Lord, this would kill her, because as his mouth did the most delicious things to her breasts, his hand moved past her stomach. Inserting first one, followed by two fingers inside her. She swallowed a groan, and turning her head toward the pillow, she closed her eyes. All sensation came from touch, and sound, and Patrick, doing the most sinfully delicious things.
A long beat of silence forced her eyes open, and she turned toward him. He studied her lower belly intently.
“What’s this? A tattoo.” Disbelief and awe sounded in his voice, and if she wasn’t mistaken, was that desire too?
The damned tattoo, the one she got post break-up with Luke, signified a new chapter in her life.
“Yes, I got it years ago.” She looked down at Patrick, who reverently ran his fingers over the black lettering, which spelled out Freedom in cursive writing. A delicate black bird topped it off at the end.
Desire flashed within the green depths of his eyes and a naughty little grin split his face in two. “I gotta say, Emma. I fucking love it.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Are you serious?”
“Oh, hell yeah. Do you want to know why?”
“Why?”
Patrick spread kisses along her tattoo, before he again locked eyes with her. “Because only a lover could ever see this sexy little thing.”
The match struck, lit, and burned everything in its path. As if the tattoo ignited his passion, he began using, not his fingers, but his mouth, teeth, and tongue, teasing her womanly folds. Tossing her head back, she blindly fisted his hair in her hands. Her heart rate accelerated as he pushed her over the edge.
His mouth and tongue worked in sync, sucking her clit and forcing her legs to open more. Everything went soft. On a silent scream, her mouth parted and she couldn’t speak.
The powerful wave of her orgasm crashed over her, and a coherent thought proved impossible. Swiping the sweat from her brow, she opened her eyes. Observing him licking her juices off his lips, but he didn’t speak. If she were being honest, she could stare at him all day and never be bored.
“You came all over my face.” His wicked words glided over her like a caress.
The heat of embarrassment enveloped her. “I’m sorry.”
He gifted her with a salacious grin. “Why, baby? I’m sure as hell not.”
Moving to an upright position, he grasped her foot, and without hesitation, he nipped the pad of her big toe.
Oh yes, I forgot about his sexy foot fetish.
Then, as if to torture her, he scattered warm, wet kisses along her ankle, toward her knee, then thigh.
“Such beautiful skin. Emma, you’re magnificent.”
“Really, even my ass? My ex thought it was too big.”
He shook his head. “He was a damned fool.”
As if to prove his point, Patrick lowered himself and braced one hand on either side of her face until they were nearly chest-to-chest. The hardness of his cock lay between them, and she could not take it anymore.
“Patrick.”
His name crossing her lips only made his eyes burn brighter, until surely her skin would be branded. Her heart beat a rapid, uneven rhythm.
Wordlessly, he rose. She studied his fine male form, like a beautiful sculpture, silhouetted in the dim light of the room. His gorgeous ass stood in profile as he bent and retrieved a condom from his pants pocket. He tore open the package and rolled it onto his thick shaft.
It’s official. I don’t want any other woman to see him like this. Ever. Again.
Where those irrational, foolish thoughts had come from, she had no clue.
Seconds later, he was back at her side. Powerful knees gently pushed her thighs apart as he positioned himself at her entrance.
Reaching out, she brushed her thumb across his lips, and locked her eyes there. She closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his, tasting the saltiness of her arousal there, and wove her arms around his neck, settling them on his shoulders, before moving toward his muscular back. The hard, smooth muscles leapt beneath her fingertips.
He didn’t hesitate another second as he entered her.
It was as though no time had passed. Her veins pulsed and throbbed, as his kisses grew intense. Her toes glided against the sheets, and his lips swallowed her moans. He rocked back and forth, the feeling of him moving inside her, filling her, indescribable.
“Emma, open those gorgeous eyes for me.”
She did as he asked, and her breath caught.
Magnificent, and even more spectacular this close, she took advantage and reacquainted herself. Studying features she’d long since memorized.
The strong, adorable cleft in his chin, beautiful lips, soulful eyes, and damn it, time had only ripened his appeal.
“I want you to touch me,” Patrick said. “Don’t be shy, honey.”
The term of endearment made her smile. Tentatively, she began at his shoulders, relishing the firm muscles beneath her fingertips, before moving to the nape of his neck.
Leaning forward, she suckled the patch of skin behind his ear, eliciting a tortured moan from his lips. She continued her exploration, scattering kisses along his shoulders and biceps.
She moved to his chest, spreading a smattering of kisses there. His light patch of hair tickled her nose and she laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“My nose is ticklish.”
Focused and intent, she zeroed in on his mouth, and attacked his sweetness with her tongue, while her hands roved to his rear end. He picked up the tempo, continuing to move inside her. The feel of him while he made love to her, damn near made her eyes roll back in her head, her shoulders tense.
She was in danger of exploding as he filled her in more ways than one.
On pure instinct, she wrapped her legs around his waist, the tighter position bringing him deeper. Her eyes drifted shut. Her back involuntarily arched, thrusting her chest up.
Grasping her breast, he lowered his mouth and worked magic on one, before moving to the other. He took one of the nipples between his teeth, biting down, not so gently, on the sensitive bud. She tossed her head to the side as sensations flooded her already-filled-to-capacity system.
Opening her eyes, she grasped either side of his face. There were not enough words in the English language, hell, in any fucking language to describe her feelings. So she said nothing and continued exploring with her eyes.
He tensed against her, and she knew his release drew near. She wrapped her legs around him, squeezing him, and swallowing his orgasm whole.
Growling, he dipped his head toward his chest and gritted his teeth. “Fuck, yes. Oh baby, yes.”
Patrick placed a kiss to her mouth. “I’ll be right back.”
On instinct, she gently pulled him back.
“What’s wrong?” He swiped a sweaty lock of hair from the side of her face.
“Nothing. I just, love the way you feel inside me. Always have,” she murmured.
A secr
etive smile softened his lips as he leaned forward, kissing her mouth, then her nose and forehead. “I’ll be right back,” he repeated.
She appreciatively watched his retreat into the adjoining bathroom, where he shut the door partway.
For the moment, she didn’t bother covering herself, her overheated system in need of a cool down.
Thank goodness she was lying down. Her legs wobbled from his thoroughly intoxicating and intense loving. Even if they’d only just made love, already the need to have him back inside her dominated.
As quickly as he’d left, she looked to see him turn out the bathroom light and stroll back in. Her heart pumped a rapid rhythm at his sensual appraisal.
“I admire your beautiful breasts, but cover them, please.” When she didn’t move, he took it upon himself to do just that.
She playfully swatted his hand. “Why?”
A wolfish smile crossed his face, and right against her lips, he murmured, “Because I might get tempted for another taste.”
~ ~ ~
Silence woke him.
Rolling over, he opened his eyes and grasped the empty pillow.
Covers had been haphazardly tossed aside, but the scent of Emma wafted off the sheets. And his skin. Where was she?
Making his way through the semi-lit room, he put on his boxers and went to find her.
Strolling down the hallway, he paused when he reached the kitchen.
Emma.
Wearing his white, button-down shirt, and, holy heck, not much else. He lifted an eyebrow as she reached into the fridge, and the shirt inched higher, and higher. Until her gorgeous bottom revealed itself, hell, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath his shirt. Her hair was pulled up and away in a messy, sexy bun.