First Shot At Love

by Lisa B. Kamps

  He shoved his hands even deeper into his pockets and shifted, trying to get comfortable. Easier said than done, considering his cock had sprung to life two hours ago.

  All the more reason for him to stay where he was. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Emily off—and he was pretty sure that jumping her would do exactly that. She wasn't like other women he knew, wasn't looking for only one thing from him.

  He didn't want to screw this up. He didn't know what it was about Emily, why he seemed so drawn to her. But he was, and that was it. No, he didn't want to screw this up.

  She paused, finally looked over at him with a small frown. "You don't have to stand over there. You can sit down. I mean, if you want to. Maybe you have to leave?"

  There it was again, that tremor of uncertainty in her soft voice. Like she wasn't quite sure what to do with him. More like she wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do with her. He'd noticed the change as soon as she found out who he was—like she couldn't believe he had asked her out. He had so hoped to keep it a secret, at least for tonight.

  She kept watching him, her hands twisting in front of her. So he gave her a bright smile and moved toward the small sofa, taking a seat near the end. He held his hand out, silently inviting her to sit with him. She hesitated, long enough that he thought she'd refuse.

  "Come. Sit with me. I won't bite." He wiggled his fingers, his smile widening when she finally took his hand. He tugged, pulling her to the sofa next to him. Close, but not too close. Not on his lap, like he wanted.

  And he should have never thought that, not when he could too easily imagine the firmness of her ass cupped against his hard-on. He swallowed a groan and draped his arm over her shoulders, hoping she wouldn't notice the hard length of his cock straining against the wool trousers.

  He shifted, turning so he was facing her, and lightly ran the tip of his fingers along the back of her neck. She stiffened for just a second, her lids fluttering before she relaxed against his touch.

  "Did you have fun tonight?"

  Her gaze darted to his, the blue of her eyes so deep, so dark. He could lose himself in her gaze, willingly drown himself in their depths.

  "I did. Thank you."

  "No, thank you. It was my pleasure."

  A small flush caressed her cheeks and she looked away, her teeth pulling on her lower lip. The sight sent another surge of desire ripping through him. Potent, powerful. Consuming.

  Odd, that word. Consuming. But that described what he wanted—what he needed—so perfectly. He wanted to be consumed by Emily, wanted to devour her as she devoured him. Wanted to be lost in her touch, her taste, her kisses.

  Her body.

  JP swallowed another groan and shifted again, his fingers never stopping their gentle caress along her neck. Did she feel any of what he felt? Possibly. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

  He traced the column of her neck, carefully ran the tips of his fingers across her cheek. Down, tracing the delicate line of her jaw, the fullness of her lower lip. Soft, sensuous.

  Her head turned toward him, her eyes wide and filled with surprise. JP caught her gaze, held it as he continued stroking her lower lip. Then he leaned forward and claimed her mouth with his. Gentle, soft. Seeking, learning.

  The banked fires of desire erupted inside him, their flames scorching him. Her mouth opened on a small gasp of surprise. He took merciless advantage, thrusting his tongue into the hot recess of her mouth. She sighed again and pressed closer, her hand coming between them to rest against his chest.

  He cupped the back of her head, deepened the kiss as she clung to him. Soft whimpers curled around them, tiny little noises of desire that heated his blood. And still he kissed her, drinking in her sweetness, quenching a thirst he hadn't known existed. The strength of his need startled him, his mind telling him to slow down.

  His body demanding surrender.

  And still he kissed her, their tongues meeting. Slow at first, tentative. Almost shy as each learned the other. Then bolder, heavy strokes and thrusts, deep and demanding. Possessing, claiming.

  JP pulled the clip from her hair, felt soft strands cascade against the back of his hand. Silky smooth, warm and vibrant. He threaded his fingers through the strands and tightened his hold on the back of her head. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and shifted, moaning as she sprawled across his lap. She stiffened, just for a second, then uttered her own little moan as she wiggled against him.

  Against the hard length of his cock.

  JP broke the kiss, pulled away and gazed into her eyes. Wide, the pupils large, the deep blue glazed with passion. He leaned forward, dragged his mouth along the column of her throat, moaned when her head tilted back. He pressed a kiss against the pulse beating hard under delicate skin, reached out and ran one hand along the length of her leg. Smooth skin, warm and firm, alive beneath his touch.

  She sighed, the sound soft and low as he trailed his fingers along her calf, behind her knee, up her thigh. Stopped just above the hem of her dress, trailed them back down again. Over and over as his mouth caressed her neck, the delicate line of her collarbone.

  Her hands dug into his shoulders, her bottom pressing against his throbbing cock. She lifted her head, her lips parting as her mouth searched for his. Another kiss, this one deeper, wilder. Untamed.

  JP pulled her closer, pressed his hips against the firmness of her ass and groaned. Need filled him, desperate, clawing, demanding. He slid his fingers under her dress, tracing lines along the sensitive flesh of her thigh. Higher, until he reached the lacy edge of fabric covering her heat. He dipped his finger inside the elastic, swallowed her small cry as he slid his finger along her clit.

  He pulled his mouth from hers, his breaths nothing more than harsh gasps as he watched her. Her lids fluttered open, her eyes wide and dazed as he stroked her clit. Over and over, harder, her hips meeting each stroke, her ass pressing against his erection, a sweet torture he didn't want to end.

  And it wouldn't end. Not tonight. Not here. Not for him. This was about her, about his Emilie.

  He pressed his mouth against her ear and whispered, quiet words in French and English. Over and over as his strokes grew bolder, relentless, driving her to the edge.

  Her lids fluttered open once more, her gaze shooting to his. Passion. Desire. Confusion. Bewilderment. He caught her mouth, the kiss deep and possessive, pulled away to watch her.

  Her mouth parted, silent breaths escaping as her body tightened, her fingers digging into the hard flesh of his shoulders. Then her head tilted back, a low moan escaping her full lips as her climax overtook her.

  "Beautiful. So beautiful." His voice was hoarse, the words rough in the heavy air around them. He leaned forward, caught her mouth with his, claimed her as the tremors wracking her body subsided. Stilled.

  He gentled his touch, moved his hand and trailed his fingers back down her thigh. Still kissing, still claiming. Then, gently, slowly, he pulled away and straightened on the sofa, adjusting his hold around Emily as she clung to him still.

  He reached out, tucked the hair behind her ear, pressed a quick kiss against her mouth.

  "I need to leave."

  Her body stiffened as a look of horror and embarrassment crossed her face. She shifted, tried to climb off his lap. He tightened her arms, cursing himself for saying the wrong thing.

  "Non, you misunderstand. I have practice in the morning and then must leave for Sunday's game."

  Emily nodded but wouldn't look at him. He could see the flush staining her cheeks, knew she was still embarrassed. Something washed over him, an odd sense of possession he didn't understand. He pushed it away, not wanting to examine it, acknowledge it, just yet. Later, when he was home.

  He tucked two fingers beneath her chin and gently turned her head toward him. His gaze caught hers, held it, refusing to let her look away again. "I want to see you again."

  He saw the unasked question in her eyes, knew she didn't quite
believe him. He pressed another kiss against her mouth and tried to smile. "Monday night. May I see you Monday night?"

  "I—" She stopped, pulled her lower lip between her teeth for an agonizing second. Then she finally nodded. "Monday night."

  "Good. Very good." He eased her from his lap, swallowed a groan as he stood and tried to adjust himself without being too obvious about it. Then he reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet, walked with her to the door.

  One kiss. Just one more. Except one wasn't enough. He pulled away with a silent moan and ran his fingers along her cheek. "Sweet dreams, my Emilie. Until Monday night."

  She nodded, still dazed, still looking like she didn't quite believe him. He grinned, offering her a silent promise, then pulled the door closed behind him.

  Monday night. It was only three days. Certainly, he could survive three days.

  Six

  "Did you get the flowers?"

  Emily glanced around the tiny cubicle and nearly choked on her laughter. "Yes, I got the flowers. And the balloons. And the chocolate. JP, it's too much. I don't have any room left."

  Which was the truth. At least three times a week, a new delivery arrived for her. It had reached the point where she actually knew the poor guy's name. And everyone else in the office had started taking bets on what the next delivery would bring.

  It was too much—literally. And too soon. Wasn't it? Yes, it was. It had only been three weeks since their first date, even if it felt longer.

  Even if it felt like she'd known JP forever.

  "I only want you to know that I'm thinking about you." His warm voice, so softly accented, echoed in her ear, sending shivers across her skin. She closed her eyes, tried to keep her body from reacting to just his voice.

  It was no good. Her body had a mind of its own, and it was firmly telling her that it wanted JP.

  She was in trouble.

  She opened her eyes and leaned across the crowded desk, ran a finger over a rose petal. Her touch was gentle against the velvety smooth surface. Pale pink, like the flush that kissed her cheeks.

  Or so the card said.

  Yeah, she was in so much trouble.

  She turned away from the large bouquet and tried to focus on their conversation instead of the sound of JP's voice. "You said you come back tonight?"

  "Yes. Our flight leaves in an hour, we should be back by five." He paused, said something to one of his teammates, the words too muffled to hear. "I can still see you tonight? For dinner?"

  Emily didn't bother hiding her smile. "I don't know. Are you up for it? The game looked a little rough last night."

  "You watched?"

  "I did. I still don't completely follow it, or understand it, but I watched." She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory of the fight she had seen. Quick, sharp, brutal. Over before it really started but damage had still been inflicted. She shuddered at the memory of seeing blood on JP's face. "It, uh, looked like you got beat up pretty bad."

  "Non. That was nothing."

  "It didn't look like nothing."

  "Then maybe you can kiss it and make it better, eh?" His voice was soft, the accent a little thicker as he spoke into the phone. Emily closed her eyes and willed her body to behave.

  "Maybe."

  JP chuckled, the sound nearly as dangerous as his earlier whisper. "So tonight then? I'll pick you up at six?"

  "I'll be ready."

  "Good. Good. Until tonight, then."

  Emily leaned back in the chair and stared at the phone after he disconnected the call. Yes, tonight. She'd be ready.

  But if she had her way, they wouldn't be going out for dinner. They'd be staying in…for dessert.

  Seven

  JP smoothed a hand over his jaw, wincing at the bandaged cut, then knocked on the door. He was later than he'd planned thanks to some bad weather that delayed their flight. He had called Emily to let her know, smiled at the memory of her understanding voice.

  It was too late for dinner, but not too late to see her.

  At least, he hoped not too late.

  He raised his hand, ready to knock again, wondering if maybe she had fallen asleep. Then the door opened and he wondered if he had fallen asleep. If he was dreaming.

  If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up.

  Emily stood before him, a vision in flowing white. A satin nightshirt flowed over her gentle curves, clinging to the hardened peaks of her nipples and gentle flare of her trim hips. A matching robe hung open over the shirt, the hem flirting with the swell of her calves.

  Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, soft and shining, almost like a halo in the candlelight glowing behind her. He blinked, wondering again if he was dreaming—until she smiled and reached for his hand, pulling him into the apartment.

  "I—" He stopped, not sure what to say. Not sure what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but part of him was still afraid he was dreaming.

  She led him toward the sofa, that small smile still teasing her lips as she released his hand and reached for a glass of wine. "I don't think I've ever seen you so quiet."

  JP shook his head, swallowed. Cleared his throat. Shook his head again. "You're beautiful."

  Her smile widened, shining in the depths of those gorgeous blue eyes. Then she stepped into his arms, all satin and warm flesh as she leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss against the cut on his jaw.

  "Does it hurt?"

  JP shook his head, almost afraid to move. He didn't have to, not when she pressed her body against his and kissed him.

  Sweet. Gentle. Almost a little hesitant, as if she wasn't quite sure how he'd react.

  That was all the encouragement he needed.

  He wrapped his arms around her, his hand cupping her ass as he pressed his hips against hers. His mouth crashed over hers in hungry need. Seeking, thrusting, demanding. He'd been waiting three weeks for this, afraid to move too fast, afraid of scaring her off. She wasn't like other women, he wanted her to know she was special, to wait for the right time.

  He didn't have to wait anymore.

  But still…

  He pulled away, his eyes searching hers. "You're sure?"

  She nodded, her hips rocking against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. JP didn't hesitate. He lifted her in his arms, groaned when she wrapped those long, slender legs around his waist, and carried her to the bedroom.

  Candles glowed from the wooden dresser, filling the room with soft light and the faintest hint of vanilla. JP barely noticed as he carried her to the bed, gently eased her to the mattress. He peeled off his coat and kicked off his shoes, stretched out beside her.

  Claimed her mouth again, the kiss deep and slow as he ran his hands up her legs. She pressed herself closer, her hips rocking, her hands grabbing the hem of his shirt. And then she was pushing him, rolling him to his back.

  Straddling him.

  JP swallowed back a groan, forced himself to hold still as she pushed the shirt up his chest. She rained gentle kisses along his skin, her hands touching every inch of him. Smoothing over the tight flesh of his stomach. Across the broad expanse of his chest.

  And then pulled one flat nipple into her mouth and sucked.

  JP nearly shot off the bed. Emily sat up, her hips pressing against his straining cock, and gave him an innocent smile. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

  "No, my love, not even close." She frowned, and he realized he'd spoken in French. It didn't matter. He closed his hands around her hips and sat up, reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. Then he slid the robe from her shoulders, watched as it fell around her in a puddle of shimmering light.

  And then he was on his back again, her hands undoing the snap and zipper of his jeans. She slid them down his legs as her hand closed over his cock and stroked.

  Heaven. Pure bliss. JP closed his eyes and let his head fall back, enjoying the sensation of the cool flesh of her hand wrapped around him. Long, hard strokes. Slow at first, then faster.

  And
then her mouth closed over him, taking him in. Hot. Wet. Hungry. He threaded his fingers through her silky hair, holding her in place as he thrust his cock into her mouth. He groaned, bit back a curse and rolled to the side. Emily's eyes opened, a look of surprise in their glazed depths. JP claimed her mouth, possessing, demanding.

  Surrendering.

  He slid the hem of the satin nightshirt up, swallowed her soft sigh as he stroked her clit. Harder, faster, her hips reaching. Searching. Her nails dug into his bare shoulders, her legs spreading as her hips thrust.

  Once, twice.

  Her body stiffened, her back arching against his touch a second before tremors shook her body. JP mentally cursed, moved away long enough to dig a condom from his wallet and sheath himself.

  Then he stretched out on top of her, bracing his weight above her as he guided the tip of his cock to her entrance. Her lids fluttered open, her eyes meeting his as he thrust himself into her tight heat.

  Burying himself.

  Losing himself.

  "Mine, Emilie. You are mine." She didn't understand the words, he knew that. Just as he knew it didn't matter, not when she looked at him that way.

  He kissed her. Hard, then gentle. Pulled away as he rocked into her, his eyes capturing her gaze and holding it.

  He didn't understand it. This pull, this connection. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. But he didn't question it, there was no need to question it.

  "Mine, Emilie. We belong together." He kissed her again, swallowing her cries as they tumbled over the edge, lost in each other.

  Eight

  A horn blasted, splitting the air. The sound was quickly drowned out when the crowd surged to their feet, shouting and cheering and screaming. Emily looked around, rose to her own feet and started clapping. Her gaze darted to the giant screen suspended above the center of the ice, showing the play in slow motion. She clapped even harder, adding her own cheers to the deafening noise. JP had scored!

  She should have known that, should have realized it when it happened. But this was her first time at a hockey game and everything happened so fast, faster than the few times she had watched on television, and she had trouble keeping up.