Strand fidgeted again. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
Screw subtle. She was tired of beating around the bush. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but are you gay?”
“What makes you ask that?”
As if the shifty eyes weren’t enough of a giveaway. “My twin brother is gay and has been as far back as I can remember. I might not have known the terminology back then. But both of us knew he was wired a little differently than the other boys in our youth group. It’s always seemed like a second version of normal to me. And there have also been some things said by MacIntyre.”
“MacIntyre?” Strand looked near panicked. “Has he been spreading rumors?”
Emory forced herself not to roll her eyes. It would have been disrespectful. “Sir. Blackmail is a crime. If that bastard has been blackmailing you, he’s through. I don’t know why you’d hide your sexual orientation, but it isn’t necessary. Honestly, I think I’d like you better if you were gay, and I like you already.”
“Do you know how many politicians have lost their elected positions when they come out?” He slumped in the chair, looking deflated. “I don’t want to lose my job! I love being the mayor. I’ve been able to do so many wonderful things for people in this city. I love what I do. I love people. I’ve campaigned for more parks, and safer playground equipment, safer sidewalks, and city pride projects.”
Emory laughed at his enthusiasm. “You don’t have to convince me. I just don’t understand why you think any of that would change just because you admit you’re gay. People elect you because of all that other stuff. Not because they think you’re straight.”
Several moments of silence spooled by. Emory began to wonder if she’d crossed a line. Then the older man heaved a great sigh, and the tension seemed to drain right out of him.
Strand gave her a wink. “That Alex Dalesio is quite a looker.”
“Have you ever been inside Phoenix Rising?” Emory was astounded at the possibility.
“I have.” He seemed to come to a decision. “And we can’t allow MacIntyre to shut it down. There might be some crazy nights in there, but a place where everyone leaves judgment at the door is hard to come by. It should be preserved.”
Okay. The bar had apparently been saved. What about Emory? “So do I still have to go to jail?”
“I’m pretty certain your brother has already arranged your bail. But I think it’s safe to say we can get those ridiculous charges dropped.” Strand stood up. “What did you attack him with, anyway?”
Emory leaped to her feet, excited at the prospect of leaving her delinquent days behind. “A little pair of pruning shears from my prep table. I use them to clip the ends off the flower stems before I put them in a vase.”
“How ridiculous! Even I’m not that much of a pansy.” Strand opened the door and motioned her out into the hallway. “Next thing you know he’ll be proposing a city ordinance about the danger of citizens owning spoons.”
* * *
Alex paced from one end of the bar to the other. City hall was practically right down the street. How long could it possibly take to bail someone out when the charges were such obvious bullshit?
“Would you sit? I’m knackered just watching you.” Gabriel rearranged his boots on the table. “That cop knew the charges were dodgy. Her brother will get it sorted.”
“Gabriel?” Connor came into the bar from the direction of the office with Jessa trailing in his wake. “Go ahead and open the doors. If nothing else, it’ll give us something to do while we wait.”
“You’re the boss.” Gabriel grunted as he got to his feet and headed off to man the cage and check IDs.
“Can you handle the bar, Alex?” Jessa touched his arm.
Bartending was the last thing on his mind. Ignoring Jessa, he looked at Connor. Taller, broader, and downright scary looking on some days, Connor Archuleta was the brother Alex had never had. They’d worked together for years. They’d watched each other’s backs when the bar got rough. Hell, they’d even shared women before Connor had settled down with the one he couldn’t live without.
“I know you’re thinking it.” Connor crossed his arms, his default defensive position. “Just say it.”
“How the fuck could Captain Downtown make an offer for the bar and me not even know about it?” The words tumbled out as though he’d been waiting to say them. Which he had been.
“How many times have you told me that I’m the boss? How many times have you told me it was all up to me because it’s my bar? How often do you refuse to make a decision or take a stand or take responsibility because it’s my bar?”
Connor’s words hurt because they were true. Alex retreated behind the counter, but his friend wasn’t done.
“You want to be the shiftless player, remember?” Connor’s tone grew harsh. “No commitments, no promises, no responsibility, nothing but the moment.”
Alex splayed his hands on the counter. Was Connor really right? On the surface it would have seemed so. Alex did defer to Connor. He pushed off decisions, money issues, pretty much anything that resembled responsibility. Before Jessa, before Connor had that person who had truly invested in him, he had confided in Alex. But in reality, that was because Alex had been the only one around.
“Either grow up and be a man or continue to be left out. Your choice.” Connor’s already deep voice slid an octave lower, signaling the emotion his friend would never outwardly show.
Had he ever really stepped up and allowed himself to be responsible for anything? He’d drifted through school without direction, joined the military to make his father happy, resigned his commission because he didn’t like being tied down to someone else’s rules, and then wound up a womanizing bartender. What did he even have to offer someone like Emory?
The truth was staggering. For the first time he allowed himself to admit that he was tired of moving from lover to lover, always looking for the next thing. Not even the next best thing, just the next whatever. He’d enjoyed them. Some more than others, but he had enjoyed them. After it was all over though, he went home to a dark room in a house full of ghosts.
He stood up and walked away from the bar.
The thunder of Connor’s voice shook Alex to his bones. “Where the hell are you going?”
“I think I need to go home.”
Connor took a step toward him, regret etched on his features. “Alex, wait.”
“It’s okay, Connor. I’m not running.” Alex didn’t have words for what he needed to say. “I just need to go home. When Emory gets here, tell her where I am.”
Connor seemed to realize that Alex wasn’t walking out for good. He relaxed just a fraction and nodded. “I’ll tell her.”
“And Connor?” He met his friend’s stoic black gaze. “Thanks.”
A rare smile crossed Connor’s face. “Anytime.”
Chapter Fifteen
Emory approached the A-frame brick house as if there might possibly be a witch inside ready to try and shove unsuspecting children into the oven. The house resembled most of the others in the downtown area. It was long and narrow, sandwiched between its neighbors with no side yard to speak of, had a postage-stamp-sized front yard, and looked nothing like any of the others on the block. The street was old and quaint but also tidy. No garbage cans littering the sidewalks, junk cars parked on the street, or unkempt lawns in sight.
She double-checked the address. It was definitely the right house. She took the front steps one at a time, eyeing the ancient rocking chairs on the porch. She could not picture Alex kicking back in one of those. A big overstuffed chair, maybe, but not a rocker.
The front door was open behind an ancient screen door. “Alex?”
“In here.”
In where? She stepped inside the dimly lit entryway.
She couldn’t possibly be in the right house. Yet the number on the mailbox was right, and Alex’s voice had urged her inside. The place looked as if it belonged to a couple in their eighties. The furniture was covered in floral
fabric that hadn’t been trendy since the seventies. The wallpaper had been pulled from the same design scheme. Heavy damask curtains let in only a sliver of natural light.
Stepping around an umbrella stand, she moved farther into the room. Knickknacks cluttered every available flat surface. Dogs, cats, cows, roosters—some shaped like salt and pepper shakers, and some cavorting in playfully frozen poses. They were dusty.
She sneezed.
“Emory?”
He was lounging against a doorframe between the front room and what must’ve been the kitchen. Long, lean, and sexy as hell, Alex had a body built for sin. He did not look as if he belonged to this place.
“What is this place?” She picked her way closer.
He restlessly rubbed his curly blond hair. “It was my parents’ place. They left it to me. I’ve just never…”
The sentence was left to hang there between them. She didn’t need him to expand. He’d never really claimed the space. That much was obvious. “If this place is anything to go by, I’m way too young for your taste.”
There was a moment where she wasn’t certain he got her humor at all, and then he snorted and let loose a laugh that made her belly clench and her pussy wet. It didn’t matter what this man did, it turned her on. He’d done so much for her. He’d accepted her. She looked around at the house that was so obviously not Alex and wondered how she could return the favor.
“I’ve never brought anyone here before.” Alex’s voice was pensive.
Considering what the place looked like, she didn’t have any trouble believing him. And yet the idea that he’d never once shared a part of himself with any of his lovers was staggering. She took a deep breath, needing but not wanting to know the truth. “Do you only have sex in the bar?”
“Anywhere but here. In the bar, cars, homes, a few hotels, a couple of rather public places I shouldn’t have—you name it and I’ve probably had sex in or around it.” His wry tone told her more than he probably realized.
She could have been mad about such a blunt disclosure. She didn’t like the thought of him spending endless nights bringing pleasure to a whole string of nameless, faceless women, but she’d known it was the truth. She’d known before she opened herself to him. Before she’d fallen so hard for this ultimate player. “Why now?”
He pushed away from the wall and took a slow turn about the living room. “You’re different, Emory. I knew it from the beginning. What I couldn’t anticipate was how much you’d change me.”
Pain lanced through her middle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to complicate your life. I just thought—you’ve done so much for me.”
“I’ve done so much?” He whipped around and pegged her with a long look that made her feel as if he’d ripped every stitch of clothing off her body. “I couldn’t even manage to help you climax. Some master lover I turned out to be.”
“Didn’t you once tell me it isn’t about orgasms?” She scraped together every ounce of boldness she could muster and sauntered toward him as if she were sex on a stick. “Do I bring you pleasure?”
“Of course you do.”
She ran her fingernails lightly down the front of his T-shirt. When she reached his waistband, she paused. “You bring me more pleasure than I ever imagined possible.”
“Do I.”
Not a statement. Not a question. Yet his tone made everything below her belly clench hard with desire. She went from mildly aroused to desperate in one scorching moment.
Emory launched herself at Alex with a hunger she was tired of denying. He caught her, holding her against his chest as she kissed him with an open mouth and more daring than she’d ever thought possible.
Their teeth clicked as she drank him in. She wound her fingers into the hair at his nape. Her fear and inhibitions were forgotten. The darkness didn’t matter anymore. This man was all that mattered. She kissed him until her lungs burned for want of air. His taste permeated every cell until she was all but trying to crawl inside his skin.
His arms wound around her body and pulled her closer still. His chest was firm beneath her breasts. Her nipples grew hard with the contact. Heat licked its way along her nerve endings until her core was achy with need.
She made a sound of anguish when he broke their kiss. “I want you in my bed, Emory.”
“Anywhere you want, Alex. I need you inside me.”
He scooped her off the floor. She felt so safe in his arms, as if nothing could touch her. Tenderness filled her for this man who’d let her so far into his private world.
Alex set Emory in the middle of his bed. The king-sized mattress had been the only thing he’d changed after returning from overseas. The monstrosity dwarfed his tiny bedroom. There was no headboard or footboard, and still there was only a narrow space to walk on both sides and barely enough room for a dresser on the opposite wall.
She glanced around, her steady brown gaze taking in every detail. He wished he didn’t feel so self-conscious, but having someone inside his space was a new experience. He had no point of reference for it.
“Nobody could ever accuse you of being vain,” she quipped.
He hadn’t thought twice about removing his dresser mirror to hang a flat-screen television on the wall. “I might just have to put the mirror back up.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why?”
“It would be hot to watch myself make love to you.”
He could see her mulling the idea over in her head, but Alex didn’t wait for her answer. He was done waiting. He grabbed her foot and picked apart the laces of her combat boot. Pulling it off, he tossed it over his shoulder. He had the second one off before the first one hit the floor.
Gripping the delicate arches of her feet in his hands, he pressed a kiss to her right ankle. “Are you ticklish?”
“Maybe a little.”
He tugged her closer, until she was resting on her elbows with her legs stretched out against his torso. He slid one hand down the curve of her calf. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin behind her knee, and she squirmed against his hold. “That felt like more than a little.” He went farther, the wide leg of her cargos allowing him easy access to her thighs and beyond.
Tucking both her heels into the curve of his neck, he let his other hand slide up her leg until he had a hold of both her thighs. Her gaze was locked on his face, her breasts bobbing up and down with each labored breath as she fought to control her reactions.
Her skin was petal soft. He kneaded the resilient muscles of her inner thighs, feeling her body give, knowing he was creating motion at the apex that would translate to her pussy.
She made a tiny noise of approval, and he skated higher, until his fingers brushed the elastic band of her panties. “Underwear? Why would you wear something useless like that?”
“I’m rethinking that decision at the moment.” The tip of her tongue fluttered over her lips, and he became suddenly, painfully aware of the erection pushing against the fly of his jeans.
He cupped her ass where it joined the apex of her thighs. Pushing beneath her panties, he was rewarded with her soft sigh of anticipation. He kept his touch light, dancing over her flesh until he was mad with the need to sink his fingers into her slit.
“Alex, please. You’re teasing me.”
Her words were sweet to his ears. Hooking a thumb in her panties, he pulled them aside. Her breath hitched. She was so wet her slick juices coated the delicate skin next to her pussy. He watched her face as he slid two fingers into her slit. Eyes closed and lips parted, her blissful expression sent a shot of longing through his blood.
He traced the sleek contours of her swollen folds until he could feel her opening flex with the need for penetration. Shifting her panties farther out of the way, he stroked her lightly. Cream spilled from her body, and his fingers began to make wet noises as he made longer, firmer strokes.
Deliberately avoiding her clit, he focused on her tight entrance. He rubbed the tender opening, gently dipping inside and then retreating until her
body was rigid with sexual tension.
“What do you want, Emory?” He let one fingertip nudge her clit, feeling her shudder in response.
“I want you inside me. Please. I can feel it coming apart.”
Her garbled words struck a chord of understanding inside him. She’d told him before that she’d been able to see it. He was beginning to think she was poised on the edge of orgasm and unable to step over the edge where control melted into submission and allowed the sweet release of climax.
“Hush, love,” he murmured. “Let yourself enjoy.”
Using two fingers, he pushed inside her body. She was tight and tense. Her channel clamped down and resisted his gentle thrusting motion. Gradually he felt her begin to relax. Focusing on the sensitive pad of muscle just inside her opening, Alex continued his steady pace.
“Unbutton your pants for me, Emory.” Alex watched her fumble with the fastenings before the garment came loose.
She cried out when he slid his fingers out of her warm sheath. Snagging her cargos, he pulled them off with one insistent tug. With his beautiful lover naked from the waist down, Alex knew what he wanted next.
He picked her up until her knees hung over his shoulders and her feet dangled near his spine. Sliding his arms beneath her softly rounded ass, he spread her wide and buried his face in her pussy.
The scent of her was sweet and erotic. He nuzzled her short pubic hair and delved into her slit to find her center. Using the tip of his tongue, he spread the hood and drew the delicate nub between his lips.
“Alex, I don’t—don’t stop, please, God.” His name became a soft mantra on her lips.
Every instinct he possessed told him she was close. Tension knotted her muscles. Her pussy quivered beneath his mouth. With the flat of his tongue he lapped her tightly clenched entrance in a steady rhythm. She began to undulate beneath his touch. The feeling sent a shot of adrenaline down his spine. She grew softer, her body beginning to melt around him.
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