by Lily Santana
Unsatisfied, her fingers fiddled with his zipper, wanting to remove the barrier and feel his skin. When she finally released him, she marveled at his strength. Powerful and male, the proof of his desire throbbed with need in her hands. She lifted heavy lids up to meet his gaze and smiled before taking him in her mouth.
“Jesus,” he groaned, closing his eyes.
She licked the rounded tip, tasting the creamy moisture between her lips. When she took him fully in her mouth, he shuddered. The powerful surge of emotions in her belly made her fingers tremble as she stroked him.
Wetness and extreme heat burst in her. She fought to breathe. “Mitch.” Her eyes pleaded for release. His hand moved between her legs. He slipped a finger inside her folds, and hot pleasure exploded in her. Her clit pulsed as his fingers rubbed the nub with a gentle pressure that drove her mad with need. Her breathing labored and her legs cramped as she tried to gain control.
Sweat trickled down her back and she inhaled the musky scent of sex that covered them. “I want to feel you inside me.” Their gaze locked.
In one fluid movement, he lifted her into his arms and headed toward the family room.
“Upstairs,” she whispered.
He stilled; then his lips tugged at the corners. He back stepped and climbed the stairs two at a time with her laughing softly into his ear.
In her bedroom he guided her down gently on the bed. With his eyes warm and the expression on his face melting her heart, he pulled off his shirt and slid off his jeans and boxers with unhurried movements.
Naked, he stood beside the bed and watched as she did the same with her own clothing, though she knew her hands were trembling and her movements were far from elegant. But it didn’t matter, because the look on his face stripped her of fear and insecurity and filled her with strength.
“Emma. So beautiful.”
She marveled at the how hearing her name on his lips ignited a fire inside her. She reached out her arms to draw him down on the bed and when he hesitated, her heart stopped.
His fingers traced the ivy-patterned sheets while his gaze took a slow spin around her bedroom. The bedroom she’d shared with her husband. Her breath caught in her throat and her stomach clenched in fear. What is he thinking?
When his heavy-lidded gaze returned to meet hers, her pulse tripled from the fierceness of his passion. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down for his wallet, pulled out a condom, ripped the package with his teeth and slipped it on.
On her knees, she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. His hand on the back of her head kept the kiss hard. She shut her eyes and savored his taste. When he leaned forward, she fell back on the bed while he eased himself slowly between her legs.
“Look at me.”
As soon as she lifted her lids to meet his, he drove in deep. She sucked in a short breath, her lungs temporarily paralyzed. He stilled, watching her face. The momentary shock of him inside her stole her thoughts. His head hovered inches above hers, his breathing raspy and short. He stayed suspended deep inside her, unable or maybe unwilling to move.
She tightened her muscles around his shaft, squeezing until he growled her name in agony. And then his stillness was replaced with raw need. He drove into her again and again, the powerful movement lifting her off the bed with the intensity of each stroke.
She reveled in the pure pleasure of his passion. The strength of him inside of her. The way he tried for controlled movements but lost in his haste to find release.
She matched his intensity, moving in rhythm, up and down. She impaled her body against his cock until the pressure built to a crescendo and she cried out his name.
His eyes shone bright and he managed a weak smile when her body slacked but he didn’t let up. He kept driving hard, the torrent unwavering until he exploded warmth inside her.
For several minutes, the only sound was their breathing, hot and arduous, and then he collapsed on his side.
In her mind, Emma tried to envision what they looked like splayed on her ivy-patterned Laura Ashley sheets. Her eyes traveled to her bedside table, the silver-framed photo now in Sammy’s room replaced by the vase of fresh-cut hydrangeas from her garden. The sweet scent filling her nose.
Mitch’s fingers entwined with hers as he lay on his side, watching her.
She gave in to the desire to run her fingers through his hair, but he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. The longing in her threatened to spill over into words so she turned on her stomach, her face buried into a pillow.
He traced the tattoo on her hips with his fingers. “I have to admit the first time I saw this, I was shocked. You? A tramp stamp?” His voice was rough and barely a whisper.
She smiled and turned her head to face him. “I was very young when I got it.”
He raised his brow. “Why did you?”
“I’m not telling you. You’ll just laugh.”
He smiled, his lids barely open. “Come on. I have ways to make you talk.”
Liquid heat bubbled up in her chest when he positioned his body above hers and she felt his tongue running soft circles on her back.
“Tell me,” he urged, his fingers slipping inside her warmth while his tongue left a wet trail over her flesh.
“You don’t play fair.” She struggled to think, let alone breathe. She buried her face in the pillows. “I give up,” she moaned.
He shifted her so she lay on top of him, her hair falling like a curtain around his face. She kissed his nose and his eyes and felt the unmistakable twitch of his desire on her stomach. His thumb rubbed her nipples until they ached to be squeezed. “Start talking.”
She lifted desire-heavy lids. “You promise not to laugh?”
The corners of his lips inched up. “I promise.”
“I was the lead singer in a local pop rock band when I was sixteen.” The words tumbled out reluctantly. She peeked at him from beneath her lashes.
He’s going to break his promise and laugh at me. I know it.
His brows quirked and his lips curled up. Both expressions she’d found annoying before now melted her heart with their sexy playfulness. “You were a rocker? Now I finally get the big hair.” She tried to pull out of his arms in protest, but he tightened his hold. “I bet you were good. Did you write your own songs?”
For some strange reason, tears burned behind her eyes. She normally didn’t like to bring up her embarrassing aspiration to be a rock star with anyone, not even Stefan. It was a silly, young girl’s dream, but with Mitch, she felt safe talking about it. “I did. I was pretty good. I had dreams of becoming the next Blondie.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged. “I fell in love at eighteen and then got pregnant. I gave up show business to raise a family.”
He twirled her hair in his hand. “Is it wrong for me to say you must have been a hot sixteen-year-old?”
She smiled at his attempt to lighten her mood. “Considering you would have been only twelve back then, no.”
“I would have had your poster pinned up by my bed.”
She leaned down to nip his bottom lip. “And what would you have been doing while looking at it?”
“It’s better if I show you,” he growled. He kissed her openmouthed, his tongue sliding against her teeth. He tugged at the swollen fullness of her lips until she moaned in pleasure. “I don’t have another condom. I’m afraid we used up my emergency supply,” he said with regret.
“I’m on the pill.”
“Oh, hell yeah.” His tongue licked her ears before whispering, “I’m clean, I swear to you.”
When he attempted to roll on top of her, she pushed him gently back before lowering herself slowly on his cock. She reveled in how his body quivered beneath her.
The potent surge of emotions swirling in her body gave he
r the confidence to pleasure him the way she’d fantasized for months. She wanted him to feel the ecstasy she’d felt when he’d so unselfishly made love to her moments earlier. She didn’t stop stroking, lavishing and kissing until he held her hips in place and lunged up, his hips off the bed, to fill her.
* * *
Mitch lay with his arms behind his head and his eyes wide open. He’d been staring at the wooden beam above Emma’s bed for the past two hours while she lay curled next to him, her hair spread out over her pillow and her breathing relaxed.
A complete one-eighty from where they were earlier. There was no doubt he’d lost his mind. Sleeping with Emma LeFleur had to be the most asinine thing he’d done in a while. And now here he was in bed with a woman who fully expected him to be there in the morning. She’d probably insist he stay for breakfast. Just thinking about what they’d talk about over coffee and eggs made him want to squeeze his head in a metal vise. Why the hell hadn’t he listened to his gut and just left it alone rather than offering to drive her home?
He had known it would be a stupid move. But hearing her impassioned defense of him to her neighbors, knowing she was pretty much eating her words in front of her friends, pierced a hole through his frozen core. Whereas he knew she had much to gain from his project going forward, he didn’t think her words last night were merely for show. He’d seen the stark emotion in her eyes and had heard the quiver in her voice. He knew the neighbors had noticed it too.
He studied her sleeping form. Who would have known underneath that fleece was a woman who made love with wild abandon? He shook his head at the memory of Emma on his lap, making out in her driveway, her teasing him with her mouth. Jesus. She made him burn, and he nearly took her in his truck had she not stopped him.
I need to get my head examined.
He got hard just looking at her lips but he knew she must be exhausted. As gently as he could, he extricated himself from her arms.
She stirred beside him. “What’s wrong?”
She was soft and warm and her eyes when she looked up at him were full of...hope. And something else that injected cold fear in his heart. Dammit to hell. He was in over his head.
“Thirsty. Be right back.” He avoided her eyes, even as he called himself the world’s biggest coward.
She settled on her side with her head cradled on one hand. He snatched his boxers and his jeans from the floor and yanked them on, cursing under his breath when he lost his balance and almost toppled over.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and watched him with amusement.
He tried to smile but his features felt gooey like taffy. Her jasmine perfume infiltrated his senses and he struggled to catch a breath that didn’t remind him of her. Realizing he couldn’t just walk out without looking like a complete dick, he took several languid steps toward her, but the eerie sensation like he was walking the pirate’s plank consumed him. He leaned in awkwardly and gave her a hard kiss that ended up landing on the side of her mouth.
Her brows arched and her lips quirked. But he didn’t give himself time to enjoy her taste on his lips. He willed himself to walk rather than run out of her bedroom, down the stairs, quietly slipping out the front door.
Once outside, he gulped in mouthfuls of the damp morning air to steady his racing pulse and stared up at the red-orange sky.
Son of a bitch. How did she manage to not only get under his skin but actually penetrate his very soul?
Emma LeFleur blew him away. Beautiful and alive, she tilted his world. With her, he barely recognized himself. For the first time in his life, he didn’t care about his own passion or satisfaction. It was all about Emma. He wanted to please her. He wanted to prove something to her. But what the hell did that even mean?
He took another lungful of sea air. What the hell had gotten into him last night? He wanted to possess Emma, and that amount of need terrified him. He’d never wanted anything so much in his life. He was scared stiff he’d buckle under the force of his need. He didn’t just have the best sex of his life in there, he had the most amazing connection he’d ever had with a person. It didn’t hurt that the person was fucking hot and intense.
He shook his head and rubbed his hand across his prickly face. The motion bringing alive her scent on his skin. Jesus. His heart knocked against his ribs.
Emma LeFleur.
The one person who stood in the way of his project’s success was the same woman who came alive in his hands and dared him to believe in things he’d long ago given up on. She’d reeled him in, only to let him loose again. But he was hooked. And like a fish on a hook, he swam hard and fast the opposite direction to get away, but in the end, he would succumb.
And she knew it.
Chapter Seventeen
Emma poured a cup of fresh brewed coffee and waited for Mitch to come down. He’d insisted on taking a shower first before having breakfast. Interesting. She didn’t really know the protocol. She’d never done this before—have a man, who wasn’t her husband, stay over.
But she definitely had no complaints. She’d woken up and her world had tilted on its axis. The skin around her nipples had scuffs, her lips were swollen and her body deliciously sore in embarrassing places.
She jumped when the doorbell rang, triggering Bogie’s pathetic bark. She glanced at the clock. Kind of early for a friendly visit.
She wrapped her terry cloth robe around her body and tried her best to tame her hair. She peeped through the side window and sighed when she saw David standing outside.
Cracking open the door a foot, she stuck half her body out. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
Rather than invite David in, she deliberated for a second before she stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her. The brisk, early-morning chill sent shivers up her bare arms and legs.
David’s eyes narrowed at her appearance although instead of commenting, he turned and nudged his head toward Mitch’s truck parked haphazardly in her driveway. Searing heat trailed up her neck.
“To say I’m shocked would be the understatement of the year. What are you thinking? Are you even thinking?”
The censor in his tone stiffened her spine. “I know what it looks like. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I realize you’re worried about me, but I am aware of what I’m doing.”
He blushed beneath his white Ralph Lauren polo shirt. “I don’t think you do. You think you’re enamored with this man and granted, he’s a good-looking fellow, but he’s not the right man for you.”
She expelled her irritation at his condescending attitude. “I don’t need you to tell me who the right man is for me. Don’t you think I’ve thought this through?”
“He’s using you, Emma. Don’t you get it? He wants his project approved and he’ll go to any lengths to get it done.”
“His project will be approved. We voted last night.”
“So what’s all this? His way of thanking you? I didn’t realize your affection was for sale.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “I’m going to forget you said that and chalk it up to the fact you’re hurt and surprised and you’re not thinking right. I do, however, think you should leave.”
His shoulders sagged. “I’m just trying to protect you from getting hurt, thinking you have feelings for this guy.”
Resentment pulsed in her veins. “Why? Because you like it when I’m weak and needy? So you can come in and be gallant and save me? I don’t need saving. I know it’s hard for you to hear this, but here’s the truth. I am crazy in love with Mitch McKenna. Wild, insane, ‘I want to rip his clothes off with my teeth’ in love, and nothing you say will change that.”
David’s angry gaze shot beyond her. “Well, if that’s the case, I hope you still feel the same way when you find out his plans for Bella Del Mar if the Planning Board rej
ects his plan.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ask him yourself.”
“Ask me what?” Mitch stood, his hands braced against the door frame, his angry look directed at David.
Emma cursed inside. How long has he been standing there?
“Why don’t you tell Emma about your plan B? Better yet, read it for yourself,” David said, handing her a copy of Coastal News before jogging down the steps toward his car.
Emma watched David’s back, not turning to face Mitch until she was certain she’d be able to withstand whatever came out of his mouth. She was wrong. The look in his eyes nearly sent her to her knees. The truth of David’s words rang loudly in her ears.
Mitch drew out a long breath. “Hear me out. Don’t get all riled up before you know everything.”
Emma strode past him to the kitchen, where the smell of the pancakes and sausages she’d made turned rancid in her stomach. “Why? What am I going to find when I read this?”
Mitch’s face hardened. “I don’t know how that guy got this information. It’s not for public consumption. Someone from my crew must have leaked it.”
“Leaked what?” Her fingers shook when she scanned the headlines of the local paper. Her brows creased as she read the details of Mitch’s plan to sell Mrs. Madsen’s property to a national motel chain if his plans didn’t get approved. Her breath caught in her throat. Fury roiled in her stomach.
I’m going to be sick.
“Emma. I would never have gone through with the plan. It was drawn—”
She gaped at him. “You were going to sell out to a motel chain?”
He cleared his throat. “No...yes. Jesus, that was before—”
“Before? Before we trusted you? Before you lied and pretended to care about Bella? Yet all along your fallback plan was to sell us out?”
Mitch rubbed his palm against his jaw. The jaw she’d traced with her tongue earlier to wake him up.
“Was this your idea?” Her voice was barely audible.