Unbreakable

by Jennifer Lazaris

The corner of his mouth turns up in a sexy little smile. “That better?”

  Yesssss.

  “Do it again,” I breathe.

  He laughs and tries to settle down on top of me, but first, I reach my hands out and run them along his stomach, needing to cop a feel of that perfect six-pack. Everyone has a thing, and mine’s always been toned male stomachs and great arms. Will is a perfect specimen in both departments. I sigh happily and wrap my arms around him.

  He brushes my hair away from my forehead. “You’re so pretty, Em.”

  “Have you always thought that?”

  Jeezaloo. I mentally bitch slap myself the second the words leave my mouth. I mean, do I really want to know the answer to that question? For a long time, I didn’t care about how I looked. I was perfectly happy not fussing over my appearance and living in clothes two sizes too big just because they were comfortable.

  “You’ve always been cute as hell, but for a lot of years, I just saw you as Sully’s little sister.”

  That figures. I sigh and roll my eyes. “Little sister by three minutes. Three minutes, Will! I need to tattoo that on my forehead.”

  He laughs and places a kiss on the end of my nose. “You’re different now. And I don’t just mean your transformation to hot college co-ed, either. You seem more content somehow. Like you’ve finally come into your own.”

  I smirk. “Little Emmy’s all grown up now?”

  “Definitely,” he says.

  He removes my t-shirt and skirt in a flash, leaving me in nothing but my bra and undies.

  Will swallows as he hooks a finger under the thin strap of my bra. He looks down at me. “This isn’t a dream, right? You’re really here, and you’re real?”

  “Are you?” I ask softly.

  He places his hands on both sides of my face. “Guess you’ll have to touch me and find out.”

  So that’s exactly what I do, and it’s much better than any dream. It’s completely perfect.

  I’ve had a few relationships, and not one of those guys ever made me feel like I do now. I feel cherished. Like everything we’re doing means something.

  Will’s rules about this being “just sex” are front and center in my mind, but his tenderness is really throwing me off. I’m trying not to confuse the friendship with the sex, but I fear the lines are already blurring for me. It makes me wonder if I can handle this. I have more of a connection with him than I did with previous boyfriends. Guys that I thought I loved. Does that mean that I wasn’t in love?

  And what if I never feel this way again?

  I need to stop worrying about all this, or I’m going to miss out on everything. I push it all to the back of my mind and lose myself in Will.

  We kiss for what seems like hours, and my whole body’s vibrating with desire. Will’s kisses aren’t limited to my mouth—though those are my favorite. He kisses my shoulders, my neck, my chest, and my stomach. All are soft, sweet and unhurried kisses.

  But it’s the touch of his lips against my ear, along with the sexy things he’s murmuring, that sends shockwaves of desire right through me.

  He uses his fingers to caress and explore every inch of my body, but his fingertips never do more than softly skim over the fabric of my panties. I’m not sure if he’s just trying to be a gentleman or what, but I’m breathless and wanting from everything we’re doing, and I’m done going slow.

  I brush my hand over the front of his jeans, deliberately pausing to cup the bulge there. He groans and rolls over on his back, taking me with him. Our kisses grow desperate as I grind against him.

  A shudder racks his body, and he grabs my hips to still my movements.

  “Time out,” he gasps. “Em, I need a minute.”

  “But that means you’ll stop touching me, and we can’t have that now, can we?”

  His breath tickles my ear. “What happened to going slow, Sunshine?”

  “We can go really slow.” He sucks in a ragged breath as I drag my lips along his collarbone. “The slowest sex you’ve ever had, even.”

  His jaw tenses and he swallows again as I fumble for his zipper, but he grabs my hand, stopping me. “I want you, Em, but we can’t. Not tonight.”

  My confidence takes a huge hit. “Why not?”

  He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Because I just realized I don’t have any condoms here. Unless you brought some?” His voice is hopeful.

  Disappointment washes over me. “No, I didn’t bring any.”

  “Fuck.” He slams his hand down on the mattress.

  I roll off of him. “How can you not have condoms, Will? You’re a guy. Isn’t that like basic Date Night 101?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like I was planning this entire seduction scene.”

  “I’ve never known a guy not to have at least one condom stored somewhere,” I grumble.

  Will leans over and blows a raspberry on my stomach, making me squeal. “Hey!”

  He rests his head on my tummy. “I’m sorry, Em. I used my last one at a teammates’ bachelor party.”

  “Wait, what?” I stare at him. “You did?”

  Everything Lilly’s said about him hooking up with girls all over Toronto comes rushing back. I didn’t want to believe it before, but…

  He starts laughing. “Wow. You’re really gullible when you’re horny, you know that?”

  I give him a shove. “And you’re mean.”

  Will chuckles and pulls me against him. “Sorry. Forgive me?”

  “Do you promise you’ll get condoms tomorrow?”

  “I promise,” he says, crossing his heart with his fingers and smiling at me.

  “Then I guess you’re forgiven.”

  “I’d go get some now, but I think the store is closed,” he says. “Besides, it will force us to stick to the original plan—going slow.”

  “Stupid country store hours,” I mutter. “It’s still pouring out, anyway. I wouldn’t want you to go out in that mess, even if it’s for a good cause.”

  I snuggle against him, and he pulls me close.

  I could really get used to this—the cuddling, the sweet words, and his silly teasing. It sure doesn’t feel like just sex. It feels like it has the potential to be something more. Much more.

  Stop it, Emmy.

  He insisted it can’t go any further than this between us, and that if I couldn’t handle it, we needed to get off this train right now.

  Sadly, I know it’s too late for all of that. I jumped on with both feet, and I’m staying on board no matter what. The faster things go makes every line we cross blur and blend together, and it’s only getting more exciting as we speed along the tracks.

  But I have no doubt that it’s going to be me who derails, crashes, and burns once we reach the end of the line.

  Chapter Thirteen

  WILL

  The late morning sun streams in through the skylight, and I stretch like a contented cat. We slept in late but spent most of the night wrapped up in each other’s arms.

  I’m not sure I can be any happier than I am right now. Well, maybe if we’d fucked I could be, but it’s still the happiest I’ve been in a long damn time.

  Every porn movie I’ve seen and each jack-off fantasy I’ve had pales in comparison to the hot and heavy make-out session Emmy and I had last night. Touching my dream girl? Kissing her and being that close? It was fucking perfect.

  I’d had to count backward in my head from one hundred every single time she’d sigh or whisper my name. I even pictured myself in the dentist’s chair getting a root canal when things felt like they were getting too hot.

  Emmy had been really into it, too. Her sexy undies were soaked when I’d skimmed my hand over her pussy. I’d wanted to rip them off and bury my face between her legs. Just one taste—that’s all I’d wanted.

  Ah, who the fuck am I kidding? One taste will never be enough.

  I roll over to put my arm around her, but she’s not there. The bed is alarmingly empty.

  Fear steals
through me and bitter acid rises up into my throat. I swallow and sit up, running a hand through my hair. What if she’s changed her mind? After my big speech about her not being able to handle everything, suddenly I’m the one who’s panicked at the thought of her backing out.

  I hear noise coming from downstairs and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The faint scent of smoke wafts through the air before a high-pitched scream pierces the sudden silence.

  I’m downstairs in two seconds flat, skidding across the kitchen floor like I’m auditioning for my favorite eighties flick, Risky Business.

  Emmy stands in the middle of the room, holding a glass pitcher of what appears to be orange juice. She’s wearing nothing but her sexy undies and a tank top.

  Her hair is wet, the toaster is billowing smoke, and the pan on the stove is engulfed in flames.

  I grab the fire extinguisher off of the wall—just in case—as the smoke alarm begins to screech. She jumps in fright at the sudden noise and the pitcher slips from her grasp. The glass explodes as it hits the floor and juice sprays everywhere.

  Emmy lets out a frightened cry as I slam the lid down on the frying pan. Thankfully, this extinguishes the fire, and I quickly snap off the burner.

  A moment later, the toaster pops up two smoky, black slabs. I cough and yank the plug from the wall, just to be safe.

  Emmy takes a step toward me, and I hold up my hand. “No! There’s glass everywhere. Stay put.”

  I reach up and rip the battery from the smoke alarm, and it lets out a slow, dying beep.

  Glancing around at the kitchen, I bite down on the insides of my cheeks to keep from laughing. It’s a total, epic disaster in here.

  My eyes move over to Emmy. She looks completely stunned as she glances around at the mess.

  That does it—I can’t hold back my laughter. It bubbles up and out of me until I feel like I’m going to bust my gut. This is her steak-grilling incident all over again. Minus the fire trucks.

  Emmy crosses her arms and glares. “Well, you don’t have to laugh at me!”

  Unfortunately, this just makes me laugh harder. I feel like total shit for doing it, but I just can’t stop.

  “Em, at what point did this all go so horribly wrong?” I ask between snickers. I grab the broom to sweep up the glass.

  “I thought I’d cook us a very simple brunch. I have made eggs and toast plenty of times before, you know. It’s the one thing I know how to make.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

  “Of course I’m sure!” she snaps. “However, this stupid fucking toaster has a thousand fucking buttons, and this is a gas stove. I’ve only used electric stoves. I don’t know—I guess I spilled some butter, and before I knew it, the whole thing was on fire.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand to try and hide a fresh wave of laughter but fail miserably.

  “Right. Keep laughing! I made you fresh orange juice, you jerk!” she hollers. “I spent the past hour squeezing those stupid little oranges into that stupid pitcher.”

  I look down at the sticky mess on the floor as I walk to the closet and grab my running shoes.

  “Where did you get oranges? I didn’t buy any oranges.”

  Emmy rolls her eyes. “From the fridge!”

  “Those were tangerines.”

  “Oh.” She frowns. “Well, whatever! They’re still part of the orange family, right?”

  Now, she looks both mad and embarrassed. If I were a smart man, I wouldn’t have mentioned the tangerines. I’m not so smart, I guess.

  I carefully walk over to where she stands, and she looks down at the floor, avoiding my gaze. I’ve obviously hurt her feelings, and I hate that she looks so vulnerable.

  “Hey,” I say softly. “I’m sorry for laughing. Really. I’m very touched that you did all of this.”

  She snorts and tosses her hair out of her face. “Did what? Set your kitchen on fire?”

  I grin. “Well, it obviously took a lot of effort.” I gesture around at the damage. “No one could have done this as quickly and efficiently as you did. In fact, the Canadian judge gives you a perfect score.”

  The corner of her mouth begins to twitch.

  “He’s also very disappointed that he missed out on your fresh-squeezed tangerine juice.”

  That seals the deal. Emmy sags against my chest and starts laughing.

  “God. I feel like a complete idiot. I’m really sorry, Will. I just wanted to do something nice for you. Especially after all that you’ve done for me. And then after last night…”

  I swat her playfully on the butt before lifting her onto the counter, safely out of the juice and glass shards.

  “Hmm. Well, how about I let you buy me brunch sometime this week? But only if you promise to never touch any appliance other than the refrigerator or microwave in this kitchen again.” I pause. “And even then, you must be closely supervised. Deal?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Deal.” She smiles at me, and all is right in my world again. Except for the disaster in the kitchen, that is.

  Emmy asks me to get her shoes so she can help clean up the rest of the mess. We spend a half an hour mopping and wiping everything down before a loud knock sounds at the front door.

  “Who the hell could that be?” I glance over at the door and frown.

  Emmy peeks out of the window. “Shit. It’s Jackson. He’s probably here because I never made it to his house yesterday. He sent a few texts last night, but I was obviously too busy to answer.”

  Fucking Crew Cut. I’d forgotten all about him after everything that had gone down.

  “Just a minute,” she calls.

  “Em, how far did things actually get between you two?”

  I have no right to ask, but I’m not sure I can stand not knowing. Especially with this guy standing right outside of my door.

  “It didn’t get anywhere,” she says softly. “I was too busy thinking about you. Wishing he was you. We never even kissed.”

  I’m relieved, but I try not to show it. “Go on upstairs and get changed. I’ll tell him you’ll be down in a minute.”

  She gives me a worried look. “Let me handle this, okay?”

  I plant a kiss on her forehead. “Okay.”

  I have no problem with her handling it—I’m just going to be nearby while she does.

  I open the front door and give him a critical once-over. “Emmy will be down in a minute.”

  Jackson glares at me and steps inside the cottage. Proof he’s an arrogant prick, because I sure as hell didn’t invite him in.

  “She never showed up last night and didn’t answer my texts. Is she always such a fucking flake?”

  Oh hell no.

  “If you say something like that again, I’ll rip out your goddamn tongue.” I cross my arms and glare down at him. “Now get the fuck out of my house. I didn’t invite you in, and you’re not welcome here.”

  He shoves his phone in his pocket and rolls his eyes. “Look, Maverick, I know you have a hard-on for her. That’s—”

  “I said get the fuck out of my house.”

  Emmy comes flying into the room as I take a step toward Crew Cut. She quickly jumps between us.

  “Whoa! What’s going on here?” she asks.

  “He called you a fucking flake, so I told him to get the fuck out.”

  She looks up at Crew Cut. “Why would you say something like that?”

  “You didn’t show up last night, Emmy. You blew me off and didn’t answer any of my texts. I thought something happened to you.”

  “I started to walk to your house last night, but the storm was too bad,” she replies.

  “Yeah right. More like you were too busy fucking your ‘friend’ here to even remember that you were supposed to meet up with me.”

  That does it. I’m done with this prick. I yank Crew Cut toward me by the collar of his t-shirt and give him a few shakes. “You don’t ever talk to her like that. Ever. Do you understand me? I’ll fucking end you.”

&n
bsp; Emmy pales as she attempts to pry my fingers from Crew Cut’s t-shirt. “Will! Let him go. Please.”

  I give Crew Cut another shake for good measure then slowly loosen my grip. When he’s finally free, he actually has the balls to give me a triumphant smile. Emmy steps in front of me and jabs him in the chest with her finger.

  “I should have just let him fuck you up,” she snaps.

  Crew Cut opens his mouth to respond, but Emmy cuts him off.

  “You disgust me, Jackson. You could have come to check on me if you were so worried. You weren’t worried. You were just pissed off you didn’t get laid.”

  She walks him backward out of the front door. “Newsflash: that was never going to happen. I don’t sleep with guys who make hand-job gestures behind my back. Have a nice life.”

  She slams the door in his face and turns, sagging against it.

  “Pretty impressive,” I grin.

  “He’s an asshole,” she mutters, walking back into the living room. “Would you really have fucked him up?”

  “You even have to ask? I wasn’t about to let Crew Cut talk to you like that. But you handled it.”

  She glances over her shoulder at me, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. “Wait… Crew Cut?”

  “It fits, eh?”

  Emmy laughs, and it’s the sweetest sound. I slip my arms around her from behind and press a kiss against her ear. “Do me a favor, Sunshine?”

  She shivers. “Mmm. Keep doing that and I’ll do you more than one, Mav.”

  Oh, fuck. I can think of a few things I’d love for her to do to me. But I need her to clear out so I can get things together for the surprise I have planned.

  I’m not sure what it is about Emmy, but I love making her happy. And I know she’s going to love this little lunchtime getaway.

  “Would you go to the store and grab a few things we need? I have some stuff I have to do around here before kicking off the rest of this day.”

  “Okay. You don’t mind if I take the truck?”

  “Of course not.” I walk over to the fridge and write down a few items on a sticky note.

  “Milk, eggs, cinnamon sticks, and condoms.” I wink. “I underlined that last one. It’s the most important.”