Crazy for You

by Rachel Lacey

All the blood in his body settled into a deep ache in his groin. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  She nodded, a wicked gleam in her eyes, still dancing. He, on the other hand, was so turned on he could barely move. Surprise me. Oh, he would, but in the meantime, she kept surprising the hell out of him.

  She settled in his arms, her hips still moving to the music. He drew her close, letting the rhythm of the music guide them as her hips wiggled to the beat. “I need you in my bed,” he growled in her ear. “Now.”

  She sucked in a breath, her eyes sparkling in the reflection of the disco ball overhead, and made a beeline for the door. He hooked an arm around her shoulders and hustled her back to their hotel, not stopping until they were inside their room with the door locked behind them. Emma stood in the middle of the room, cheeks flushed, watching him expectantly.

  His entire body pulsed with barely leashed need. He reached for the thin, blue scarf that she’d discarded by the bed after they arrived. Emma followed his actions with her gaze, her chest heaving. He took the scarf and covered her eyes, tying it behind her head. She sucked in a breath, reaching for him.

  “No rushing me this time, baby,” he said, walking her slowly backward until they’d reached the bed. He reached behind her for the zipper of her dress, finding nothing but fabric.

  “No zipper,” she said, her voice breathless. “It’s stretchy. It just goes over my head.”

  Interesting. He could work with that. He fisted his hands in the clingy black fabric and slowly worked it up her thighs, baring the black lacy thong she wore beneath. He groaned, pausing to touch her. Emma gasped, her knees parting.

  He went slowly over her hips, careful not to snag the edges of the bandage covering her tattoo. It would be time to take that off soon, but first things first. He slid the dress up her sides and over her head, leaving her in nothing but a black lacy bra and thong, leather boots, and the scarf still tied over her eyes.

  He stood there for a moment, just drinking her in. So fucking sexy.

  “Please,” she whimpered.

  “Please what?”

  “Touch me.”

  He gave her a nudge with his hands, and she sat on the bed. “No, baby, I want you to touch yourself.”

  She sucked in a breath. “What?”

  “You said you wanted to try something new.” He unzipped her boots one at the time and tugged them off, then trailed his fingers up her legs and over her stomach.

  She squirmed.

  He popped the clasp and removed her bra then slid her thong down her legs. “Pretend I’m not here,” he murmured. “Show me how you please yourself.”

  “Ryan…”

  He lay on the bed beside her, his own body strung so tight that the lightest touch might make him snap yet completely caught up in the moment, watching as she lay back on the bed, her fingers trailing down her stomach to dip between her legs.

  “That’s right, baby,” he said. “Show me how you like it.”

  She touched herself, cautiously at first, as though still self-conscious about the fact he was lying here beside her, but soon she gave herself over to her pleasure, moaning as she grew more aroused.

  His cock strained within the confines of his jeans, growing harder with each stroke of her fingers between her legs. He’d never been so mad with lust yet so totally focused on her pleasure.

  “Ryan,” she whispered, rolling toward him, “I want you to finish.”

  “My pleasure,” he murmured, at last allowing himself to reach out and touch her. He ran his hands over her body, taking time to touch and explore. Emma shifted restlessly on the bed, having already brought herself too close to the edge, but he wasn’t rushing. Not this time. He kissed his way around the perimeter of her new tattoo—that flower was going to be his downfall. Dangerously sexy. Intoxicating. He couldn’t wait until it had healed so that he could touch it.

  Finally, he settled between her thighs. Emma whimpered. He stroked her, and fuck, she was so wet for him. His cock thickened, pressing painfully against his zipper. Ignoring it, he kissed his way up her thighs until he reached her center, and then he put his mouth on her.

  Emma gasped, fisting her hands in the sheets. He took his time, pleasing her until she writhed beneath him, panting his name. And then, with a moan, she came against his tongue. Her hips bucked, and her body tensed, and then she collapsed against the sheets with a breathless, “Holy shit.”

  He kissed his way up her belly to her mouth. “You’re spectacular when you come.”

  Her cheeks grew even pinker. Then she reached up and removed the scarf from her eyes. “My turn.” She went up on her knees and tied the scarf over his eyes.

  Immediately all his other senses were heightened. His body ached, waiting for her touch.

  “First, let’s get you out of these clothes.” She lifted his shirt over his head. Then her hands were on his jeans, lowering the zipper that had been torturing him ever since they got back to the hotel. Hallelujah.

  She stroked him through his boxer briefs, and he gritted his teeth. He shucked his jeans and briefs, then he sat there, blindfolded, his dick impossibly hard and desperate for her touch.

  “You’re so sexy,” Emma murmured, her voice tantalizingly close. “I could just sit here all night and look at you.”

  “Please don’t.” He managed a harsh laugh.

  “Don’t worry.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “I like touching you even more.” She took him in her hand, stroking up and down his shaft.

  Fuck, yeah. “Harder,” he said gruffly.

  Emma picked up the pace, stroking him with one hand while she cupped his balls in the other, and ah, fuck. So good. His whole world had reduced to the feel of her fingers on him and the need blazing inside him, growing more insistent with each stroke of her hand.

  And then, her hands were gone. He groaned, his dick straining into the emptiness left behind. Torture. This was torture, and he was loving every second. Her warm breath whispered across his aching flesh. He sucked in a breath and held it, waiting in the darkness of the blindfold, and then the head of his dick slipped into the wet heat of her mouth. He swore as her tongue swirled over him, licking and sucking. She took him deeper, and fuck, he was a goner.

  He struggled to hold back, not to thrust himself against her. She slid him in and out of her mouth while her tongue worked him into a frenzy. Already he felt his orgasm building, tightening in his balls, burning through him as the pressure built.

  Sucking in a breath, he gripped her shoulders, pushing her back. “Emma, baby, I’m about to come, and I want to be inside you when I do.”

  She released him from her mouth, and he lay there, too painfully aroused to move. Next thing he knew, he felt a condom being rolled down his aching length. Emma straddled him, sinking down onto him. And ah, fuck. He was close. Too close. He gripped her waist, slowing down her pace. She grumbled in protest.

  He reached between them and touched her where their bodies joined. He found her clit and stroked, hitting a rhythm with his fingers that made her pant. She rode him hard, and he held on for the ride, barely daring to breathe, desperate to hold himself back until she’d joined him.

  She swiveled her hips with a gasp, and then her body clamped down on him, spasming around his dick as she came. With a growl, he thrust inside her once, twice, and then his own orgasm came, ripping through him so powerfully that he lost all control of himself, his hips bucking against hers as he rode out the waves of red-hot release.

  Afterward, as he lay there, limp, spent, and still blindfolded, he felt as if his whole horizon had shifted. He never would have imagined he’d have some of the hottest sex in his life with Emma Rush. And now all he could think about was doing it again.

  Chapter Twelve

  I have a detour for us on the way home,” Ryan told Emma the next morning after they’d checked out of the hotel.

  “Oh yeah?” She climbed onto the bike behind him, ready to go pretty much anywhere he wante
d to take her. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The engine roared to life beneath them, and she hung on for the ride. In the past month, she’d become just as addicted to motorcycle rides as she had to the man giving them. Ryan guided them out of the hotel’s parking lot and down South Boulevard, past a string of storefronts including House of Ink. They merged onto the highway, the morning air crisp and refreshing as it whipped across her skin. After about ten minutes, they left the highway and meandered through a business park on the outskirts of Charlotte, all but deserted at this hour on a Sunday.

  And Emma officially had no clue where Ryan’s detour was taking them.

  He guided the bike into a big, empty parking lot in front of a rather nondescript four-story office building. Her gaze caught on a sculpture in front. It was silver and made up of moving pieces, like the figure had been carved into dozens of horizontal slices that rotated back and forth. A fountain sprayed from the front of the sculpture into a large pool.

  Ryan parked and turned off the bike. “Cool, right? It’s called Metalmorphosis.”

  Emma stared at the moving sculpture, mesmerized. “I love it.”

  “When the pieces all line up, it’s the shape of a man’s head.”

  “Oh.” She watched the pieces move. “Yeah, I see it now.”

  He held his left hand out, as he always did to help her off the bike. She gripped it and climbed off. Together, they walked over to the sculpture and stood watching it. The pieces were shiny, almost like mirrors, reflecting the water below.

  “You were having trouble coming up with an idea for the memorial,” Ryan said, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “So I thought we could ride around this morning and see some interesting structures. Maybe something will give you a nudge in the right direction.”

  Wow. Her heart squeezed, filling her up with warmth. “That’s really sweet of you.”

  He gave her a comical look. “Whatever you do, please don’t call me sweet.”

  She leaned in and kissed him. “Fine, but I really appreciate this.” And it might be exactly what she needed. This sculpture was way too trendy for the Town Planning Committee’s taste, but seeing the way the light played off the metal, reflecting the water, was definitely sparking something in her imagination.

  After they left Metalmorphosis, Ryan took her to several more landmarks, everything from an old church to something called the Reclining Bulls Statue, which was as odd as its name suggested but oddly inspiring. By the time they rolled onto the highway headed for Haven, Emma’s mind was buzzing with ideas, and she owed it all to Ryan.

  Oh yeah, her crush was rapidly blooming into something bigger. Much bigger.

  They got to her house just after one o’clock. Ryan had to hurry straight to Off-the-Grid for an afternoon of scheduled rock climbing lessons so Emma went inside to round up the girls and dish about her night in Charlotte. Except…she and Ryan hadn’t discussed what would happen once they got home. Were they keeping things private or were they officially dating now?

  Dating? Or just hooking up? Crap. She slapped a hand to her forehead. She was so bad at this, but whatever it was, it was amazing, and screw it, she needed to share with her friends.

  Girls’ night? she texted Gabby, Carly, and Mandy.

  I’m in! When and where? Gabby replied almost immediately.

  My place. I’m thinking Magic Mike XXL, pizza, and ice cream? Emma texted. She’d been out last night. Tonight, she just wanted to curl up on her couch and hang out with her friends.

  Yessss, Mandy texted. I’ll bring the ice cream.

  Within minutes, they had the whole thing planned. Emma fist-pumped the air, then went to her room to freshen up and change into a stretchy cotton skirt. The tattoo had been sore ever since she put her skinny jeans back on to ride home from Charlotte. Overall, it wasn’t bothering her too much, though. Ryan had only let her take a quick, lukewarm shower this morning, telling her to avoid hot water until it had healed, which was a bummer, but it would all be worth it in the end.

  She stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, letting the skirt sit low on her hips so that she could admire the little red poppy on her skin. She loved it even more than she’d thought she would, and the way Ryan had looked at it…

  Phew.

  They’d shared one of the most memorable nights of her life. Wherever their relationship went from here, she’d never regret a single moment they’d spent together.

  With a happy sigh, Emma went into the living room, Smokey at her heels. She sat down on the couch with a notepad and pencil to start sketching out new ideas for the memorial, and…the next thing she knew, Smokey was meowing in her face. She blinked, glancing at the clock.

  It was a few minutes past five, and apparently she’d just slept away the whole afternoon. Her neck protested as she got up, kinked from dozing in an awkward position on the couch. So perhaps she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night…

  Her phone showed three new text messages. Predictably, the first two were from her friends, still discussing details for tonight. The third was from Ryan. Her heart skittered in her chest at the sight of his name.

  Tomorrow after work—your place or mine?

  A warm thrill shot through her. Mine, she replied.

  I’m there, he texted right back.

  She couldn’t wait. In the meantime…

  She hurried to order pizzas to be delivered and rented Magic Mike XXL through her Apple TV. On cue, the doorbell rang. Smokey darted for the safety of the bedroom.

  Emma went to open the door. Carly stood there, carrying a bottle of white wine.

  “Hi.” Emma motioned her in.

  “So are we celebrating or commiserating?” Carly asked.

  “I think I know the answer to that question,” Gabby said, coming up the walkway. “I heard Ryan took the day off yesterday and went to Charlotte with you to get a tattoo.”

  “You got a tattoo?” Carly exclaimed.

  “Yes, but—”

  “More importantly,” Gabby interrupted, “what else did you and Ryan do in Charlotte?”

  Emma laughed, ushering them inside. “You ladies cut right to the chase, don’t you? Shouldn’t we wait for Mandy to get here before I tell all?”

  “Yes, yes, you should,” Mandy said from the doorway, two tubs of ice cream in her arms.

  Emma took the ice cream from her and walked to the kitchen to put it in the freezer. Carly opened the bottle of wine and poured four glasses. Wineglasses in hand, they headed for the living room.

  “So, I got a tattoo yesterday,” Emma said.

  “Cool! What is it?” Carly asked.

  “And where?” Mandy added.

  “It’s a red poppy, on my hip.” She pushed down the waistband of her skirt to show it to them.

  “Oh, wow. I love it,” Gabby said. The others agreed.

  “Did it hurt a lot?” Carly asked. “I’ve been thinking of getting one, too.”

  “Not too bad. It was pretty quick, anyway, for such a small tattoo.” Emma took a gulp of her wine. “And to answer Gabby’s other question—yes, Ryan and I spent the night in Charlotte, and yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh my God!” Gabby squealed, clapping her hands together in delight. “Tell us everything.”

  “Well”—Emma could feel herself blushing already—“maybe not everything, but let’s just say, the sex was everything I was hoping for and then some.”

  “Way to go.” Mandy looked impressed. “It’s about time you had a little excitement in your life.”

  “Yes, it was.” Emma chewed her bottom lip. “You guys want to hear something funny?”

  They all nodded, hanging on her every word.

  “I’ve had a crush on Ryan since high school.” There, she’d said it. She’d never told a soul about her crush on Ryan. As a teen, it had seemed ridiculous. He was so much older and cooler. And as an adult, she’d just felt silly still harboring feelings for her teenage crus
h. But now? Now she’d slept with him, and the idea of her and Ryan was definitely not farfetched.

  “Really?” Gabby’s eyes were wide. “Wow. I never would have guessed.”

  “This changes things,” Mandy said, tapping her wineglass thoughtfully.

  “How so?” Emma asked.

  “Because now this is much more than a casual hookup between two people who happen to be friends,” Mandy said.

  “She’s right,” Carly said. “You’ve been fantasizing about him since high school? That’s a long time. You’re probably already halfway in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “What? No!” Somehow she managed to dump her glass of wine in her lap. “Crap.”

  They were all staring at her.

  “Seriously, I am not in love with Ryan. Not even close.” She stood to go change out of her wine-stained skirt just as the doorbell rang. “That’s the pizza.”

  “I’ve got it,” Mandy said, waving her off.

  Emma hurried into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Smokey lay curled in the middle of her bed, eyeing her cautiously, as if she feared Emma might invite these intruders into her inner sanctum. Emma walked to the closet and pulled out a jersey dress, tossing her wine-stained clothes into the laundry basket.

  She wasn’t in love with Ryan. She’d always been pretty honest with herself about her emotions. So she could admit—to herself at least—that she had real feelings for him, feelings that went far beyond a casual hookup, but it wasn’t love. Not yet. It definitely could be, if she stayed with him for too long. So she’d have to be careful not to let that happen because she was pretty sure the whole point of “friends with benefits” was to keep messy feelings out of the equation. And if she got into the program at the University of Georgia, she’d be leaving Haven in a few months anyway.

  She walked back out to find the girls gathered in the kitchen, filling plates with pizza.

  “So you were telling us about how you’re not in love with Ryan?” Mandy said with a grin.

  “I’m really not. This is just a fling, an adventure before I leave town.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Mandy said. “I have a feeling in a few months, we’ll be saying, ‘We told you so.’”