The Trouble With Bachelors (Windy City Bachelors Book 1)

by Caitlyn Blue

  “You know, I’d much rather have stayed at my place.”

  “So would I, but you’d rather have a drink with my sister.” Her tone assures me I fucked up.

  “It’s just a quick drink. There’ll be plenty of time for dessert later.”

  “I don’t think dessert is happening tonight.”

  Is she annoyed because she worked hard on her dessert and thinks I rejected it?

  “Is it like a soufflé that has to be eaten right away otherwise it falls or something?”

  “Ohmygod.” She stops walking. “It’s not the dessert.”

  Because I kept walking, I have to turn and go back to her. “It’s not?”

  She looks across the street. “I thought you invited me to your place for…dessert.”

  Fuck. Dessert means sex. I quickly review our entire evening’s conversations.

  Yes, agreeing to meet Julie and Paul was a major fuck up on my part.

  “Well…for dinner…” I’m not sure what is happening to my moves. Something about her makes me zig when I should zag. “I didn’t want to presume that we’d have dessert.”

  When she frowns, I realize I’ve said the wrong thing again. “Not even after…?”

  “I want to have sex with you.” Screw this dancing around the word. “Very badly.”

  “Then why did you agree to have a drink with Paul and Julie?”

  I don’t have an answer. I’m never this clumsy with women. It occurs to me that if Emma had been anyone else, I would’ve turned Paul down flat and spent the rest of the night feeding her dessert and making her moan.

  But Emma’s different. I want to take my time with her, get to know her. She’s not going to arrive at a guy’s place for dinner and expect to have sex on the third date. And I can’t even say the first two were dates since we used the excuse of planning the bachelor/bachelorette party to get together.

  We reach Coastal Vibe and I open the door for Emma. She sails past me like I’m a stranger. Exhaling, I follow. Emma waves an impatient hand at the hostess as she greets us, cutting her off mid-sentence. Her eyes are locked on a table way in the back. Without checking to see if I’m following, she heads straight for it.

  Julie looks up as her sister gets within twenty feet and I see her eyes go wide, making me curious as to what sort of expression Emma has on her face.

  “There you are,” the bride-to-be says, plastering a bright smile on her lips. “Fifteen minutes, just like you said.”

  “Were you timing us?” Emma asks sweetly, sliding into a seat beside Paul, leaving the one next to Julie for me.

  Feeling like I’m entering a snake pit, I drop into the chair and gaze from one sister to the other.

  “So, you two were having dinner at Zach’s?” Julie asks, her tone pitched overly bright.

  “Yes,” Emma says, staring her sister down. “The last time we met to talk about the combined party, we got distracted. Didn’t we, Zach?”

  Remembering how things ended with my pants around my ankles and Emma’s tongue circling my dick, I murmur a monosyllabic, “Yes.”

  Instinct warns that I should expand on my explanation and mention the kitten, but I’m puzzled. Hasn’t Emma already told Julie about the kitten incident? Why do I feel like I’m in the middle of a minefield?

  Paul looks equally baffled by the tension between Julie and Emma. This makes me feel a little better. Obviously whatever’s going on between them is a sister thing and beyond our understanding.

  Gabby stops by to say hello, disrupting the staring contest between the sisters. “Have you tried the bourbon cupcake?” she asks. “One of our new line cooks is a pastry student and she makes some pretty kick-ass desserts.”

  “Zach and I have already eaten,” Emma says, “but we didn’t have time for dessert.” She puts a special emphasis on the word. “I’d love to try it.” When she looks to me, there’s a smile on her lips, but a cool challenge gleams in her eyes. “Do you want to share with me? Or would you rather have your own?”

  The subtext in her question is immediately apparent. If I want my own cupcake, I’m going to be flying solo later. Since I thought I’d already forfeited any chance of getting Emma naked when I told Paul we’d meet them here, I’m stunned that she’s willing to give me another chance. And yet, I hadn’t intended for tonight to be only about getting her into bed.

  “Let’s share one,” I say, my gaze locked on hers. “Only because I’m saving myself for the dessert you brought. I don’t want to miss tasting that later.”

  Her lips shift into a crooked grin and I know I’ve said the right thing. I’m a little surprised at the giddiness I feel. It isn’t even about the promise of sex later. It’s more about having figured out what she wants to hear. And now we have a secret way of communicating. An inside joke. The sort of thing that couples share.

  Is that what I want? For Emma and I to be a couple? Up until now I haven’t exactly been commitment material. For the last several years, I’ve put all my energy into building my business. And now that it’s doing well, I can spare some time for my personal life. But am I ready to settle down?

  “One bourbon cupcake coming up,” Gabby says, heading off.

  Neither Emma nor I order a drink. We already polished off a bottle of wine and she still has to drive home. A waitress stops by with the cupcake and two forks, and Emma and I dig in.

  “What did he fix for dinner?” Julie asks.

  “His mother’s fantastic stroganoff recipe.”

  “The one you fixed for me when we were dating?” Julie’s eyes catch the light like razor-sharp knives. “Is it your signature dish to impress the girls?”

  “If it isn’t, it should be,” Emma says, her smile growing predatory. “There’s nothing a girl likes more than a man who knows his way around a kitchen.”

  Keeping quiet seems to be the smart way to go and Paul obviously agrees with me, because he sips his beer and stares at his fiancée.

  Gabby pops by the table. “What do you think of the bourbon cupcake?”

  “Delicious,” Emma responds. She pushes the plate in the direction of her sister and Paul. “I’ve had enough. Are you sure you don’t want to try some?”

  Julie shakes her head. “Can’t.”

  “She’s become obsessed about avoiding carbs,” Paul explains.

  “I can’t gain weight before the wedding.”

  “You’ll look beautiful no matter what.” Paul puts the last forkful of cupcake into his mouth. “Hey, this is good. We should have her bake some of these for the groom’s dinner

  “I’ll add it to the menu,” Gabby says, likely knowing that the menu will change several more times in the next two months as Julie continues to fuss over her wedding arrangements.

  “Can you sit down for a couple minutes?” Emma asks. “We were just talking about the combined bachelor/bachelorette party.”

  “Sure. It’s pretty quiet tonight.” Grabbing a chair from an empty table, she sits and focuses her attention on Emma. “What’s the plan for the party?”

  “We’ve talked about a long weekend getaway.”

  “I know I’ll be ready for that,” Gabby says. “This last year has been crazy with getting everything ready to open the speakeasy.”

  “Emma and I thought it might be fun to head to Puerto Rico.”

  Emma picks up the ball. “It’s only four and a half hours and the flights are reasonable. We could rent a huge house that would accommodate all of us.”

  “One big slumber party.” Paul nods, obviously on board. “Could be fun. What do you think, Julie?”

  “It would be nice to have everyone together like that before the wedding,” Julie says, looking surprised and intrigued.

  “Sunshine. Rum.” Gabby claps her hands. “I’m in.”

  “I hope everyone is as enthusiastic,” Emma says.

  “I don’t see why not. It’s been a rough winter for everyone.”

  We’ve had almost double the average amount of snow and the bitter cold h
as lingered later in March than usual. Each day dawns gray and damp, with too few sunny days to lift anyone’s spirits. It’s thrown a blanket of malaise over the entire city.

  “Puerto Rico.” Paul brings his palm down on the table and makes the dishes rattle. “Let’s do it.”

  The tension eases considerably. I snag Emma’s gaze and she looks relieved and pleased. We make a good team. I wonder if she feels the same way. Suddenly I’m pissed at myself for bringing her here. If I’d just said no when Paul asked, Emma and I might be sharing a different dessert right now.

  “Great, so that settled,” I say, reaching into my wallet. Emma watches with interest as I toss enough money on the table to settle our tab. “Are you ready to go?”

  I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I see her slight nod. And then we’re brushing off Julie’s insistence that we stay for one more drink and winding our way toward the front door. Before the night cool air hits my face, I’m plotting how I can salvage the mess I’ve made of the evening and hoping that she’ll give me another shot.

  15

  Emma

  As we leave Coastal Vibe, I’m feeling less on edge than when we arrived. Still, when we reach Zach’s door, my instinct is to run far and fast. I’ve admitted to him that I came here tonight thinking we were going to have sex. A girl can’t recover from that sort of thing.

  As if he can read my mind, he catches my fingers and tugs me toward him.

  “Please come upstairs,” he says. “I feel that if I let you get away now, you’ll never come near me again.”

  It’s scary how well he can read me. “I don’t know if I’m in the dessert mood.”

  He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Then dessert is off the table. We can talk. Maybe watch some TV. I know you don’t have to rush off.” He glances at his watch. “It’s only nine o’clock.”

  This guy is too perfect. Great teeth. That naughty grin. Rock hard abs. His legs are muscular without bulk. And I bet I could bounce a coin off his ass. How can I resist him?

  “I’ll come up for an hour.” I’m torn by how sweet he’s being and how much I want to tear his clothes off. Unfortunately, things have now gotten awkward.

  “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

  “Stop,” I tease, but my heart isn’t in it. “That makes you sound needy.”

  “You don’t think I need you?”

  The elevator doors open and we step inside. We’re still holding hands and I’m wondering if he can feel my clammy palms.

  “I…don’t know.” Damn the man, I’m going to have a terrible time keeping my hands off him.

  If he’d only make me feel as if he was all about getting laid it would be so much easier to resist him. Is this a ploy he utilizes in extreme cases? Am I an extreme case? I’ve already done things with Zach that it took me nearly five months with my old boyfriend to try.

  “You don’t trust me,” he says, unlocking his front door.

  “You’re not the type of guy I usually go for. I’m having a hard time reconciling my need to sleep with you with the fact that I don’t jump into bed so fast.”

  “That’s why we’re going to take it slow.”

  I groan. “And then you say things like that and I want to do this.”

  I crush my mouth against his and joy bursts inside me as his arms come around me. Before I know what’s happening, he spins me around and puts my back against the wall. His kiss is hot and demanding, feverish with need, and I give him everything I’ve got. My hands tunnel beneath his t-shirt, finding warm silky skin over hard muscle.

  “No. No. No,” he moans, stripping off my coat and letting it fall to the floor.

  Before I can ask him what he’s talking about, he picks me up in his arms and carries me toward the bed that has been waiting for us all night. He sets me down gently on the comforter, stripping off his own coat and then his shirt. While I lay on my back and watch, he kicks off his shoes, peels off his socks, and unfastens his jeans.

  I’m panting with excitement, thrilling for the great reveal, but he stops there and looks at me with enough heat to make my blood sing. I lift my arms above my head and let him drink his fill. With a crooked smile, he takes hold of my ankle and slides my shoe off. He repeats the move with the other foot and then goes for my socks.

  “These are fucking seriously sexy, but they’re coming off.”

  I grab hold of my skirt hem and hike it up, revealing pink satin panties edged with lace. “These are pretty fucking sexy too. Do you want to take them off as well?”

  He has one sock all the way off and is working on the second one. “You’re killing me.”

  To make things worse for him, I spread my legs, giving him a good show. “Swear there will be no more interruptions.”

  “No more interruptions.”

  I expect him to dive between my legs with his mouth or his hands or to strip off his jeans and enter me without further preliminaries, but once again he surprises me. Instead of doing any of those things, he settles onto the bed beside me and begins to work his lips across my cheek, eyes, and nose. By the time he gets to my mouth I’m half mad with longing. It’s glorious, this slow build. It calms my doubts and lets me invest all of my senses in the moment. But it’s also agonizing.

  I glide my hands over his bare torso, delighted that he took his shirt off for me. He makes no attempt to take his lips lower than my collarbones, and my breasts grow heavy and hungry for his possession. Taking matters into my hands, I ride his six-pack downward to the opening in his jeans he so kindly left for me to find.

  “You need to know that this isn’t how I planned the evening to go.” His raw, husky voice fills me with delight.

  I tease my fingers along the waistband of his jeans, watching in fascination as his muscles twitch beneath my touch. “What did you think would happen?”

  “Dinner.” His chest moves with each erratic breath he takes. “And some snuggling on the couch.”

  “That seems pretty tame.” I curve my palm over his erection and he curses in surprise.

  “I didn’t want to rush you.” He’s watching me from beneath his long lashes. “I would be perfectly happy just getting another peek at your breasts.”

  “You want to peek, do you?”

  “A quick look would be great.”

  I push him onto his back. “Close your eyes.” When he does as I’ve asked, I get up from the bed. When he frowns, I say, “I just need a second.”

  In the silence that follows I strip off my top and skirt. Returning to the bed, I straddle his hips. He’s working hard to keep his eyes shut and I decide not to torment him any longer.

  “You can open your eyes now.”

  In a flash, he’s staring at me, and then he slowly takes in the picture of me clad only in my underwear. “That’s not exactly a peek,” he says.

  I run my fingertips across the pink fabric and then hook them in the lace that edges the top half of the bra, tugging downward. His eyes widen in anticipation. Then I stop what I’m doing and give my head a little shake. “Are you sure a peek is all you want?”

  “I’m trying not to be greedy here.”

  “What does a peek consist of?” I arch an eyebrow at him. “Maybe you should show me how much you want to look.”

  He slips the straps off my shoulders and then reaches around and unfastens the clasp. My bra tumbles free and I toss it aside.

  “You are so fucking gorgeous.” His tone has a note of awe in it as he covers my breasts with his hands.

  There’s such reverence in his touch and that alone is enough for me to throw all caution to the wind. I lean into his touch and thread my fingers through his hair clenching as he dips his head and flicks his tongue over my nipple.

  “And perfect.” His fingertips graze my skin, each caress tender and adoring.

  Has any man ever looked at me like I’m some fantastic dream he never wants to wake from? The beauty and fullness of it is almost enough to make me cry out in pleasure.
r />   “Zach.” His name is a plea on my lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

  “I’m only getting started.”

  And then we’re rolling and I’m beneath him. His mouth is on my neck and then coasting past my throat and over the swell of my breast. I bracket his hips with my thighs and revel as the hard length of him settles against where I ache.

  “Oh, that feels incredible,” I moan, riding a swell of pleasure.

  “I know what would be even better.”

  He slides down my body. Hooking his fingers in my thong, he pulls it down my legs and drops it to the floor. I’ve dreamed of this so often, but the fantasy was a shadow compared to the reality of his fingers and mouth moving over the planes of my body. His smile tickles my skin, bringing an answering curve to my lips. Pausing only a second to flick a look at my face, he puts a hand on the inside of each of my knees and pushes my thighs apart.

  “I’m going to make you come like you never have before.”

  I’m not sure if this is a threat or a promise. Either way, I know I’m in trouble. “Okay.”

  Giving me one of those wicked grins, he runs his fingers along my bare thigh. “Okay?”

  “Yeah,” I try instead, but it’s a strangled sound. Then I’m gulping as his tongue flicks over me, teasingly close to where I need him. “Holy shit.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  His girl. I like the sound of that. It repeats in my head twice more before he settles his mouth between my legs and my world goes momentarily supernova at the shock of his tongue stroking my center.

  “Zach.” I have no other words as he tastes me, and the pleasure sears clear through my body. “Zach.”

  He hums, and the vibration against my clit sends sensation streaking to my toes. My stomach muscles contract and I touch his soft hair, communicating my enjoyment as my voice has failed me.