by Lauren Layne
Cassidy, being a self-proclaimed country purist, had broken the news that the song was hardly an original. That honor belonged to Randy Travis, who’d originally recorded the song back in the eighties.
The result had been a good-natured war in which they each tried to outplay the other, arguing the merits of each version.
Emma hadn’t thought about it in years—hadn’t listened to the song since they broke up.
She shook her head as she listened. “It’s perfect. Both their voices together. The best of both.”
He pulled her closer again, and she let him. His head dipped slightly so they were cheek to cheek. “Guess some things are better together.”
Emma’s fingers clenched on his shoulder at the words. He wasn’t talking about the song. At least not just about the song.
He was talking about people.
He was talking about them.
Emma closed her eyes and listened to the music, letting herself sink into the moment. Letting herself sink into Cassidy, his smell and his warmth, and, most alarming of all, his familiarity.
She remembered this. Not just her mind, not just her body, but her soul remembered this.
“It’s funny,” she said, turning her head so that her cheek brushed his shoulder. “This song fits so much better now than it did back then.”
His cheek brushed her hair. “I’m not sure that’s such a good thing, considering the song’s about heartbreak.”
“True,” she said, on a dreamy sigh. “It’s still beautiful, though. In a hauntingly melancholy kind of way.”
Emma realized that now she was the one talking in double meaning, although she hadn’t realized she was doing it.
The song began to build into the final chorus, and Emma felt a little jolt of panic at the realization that the dance was almost over.
And beyond the panic, a surge of shock, because she didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want to say good night to Cassidy. Didn’t want to go back to being forced, awkward strangers tomorrow.
Cassidy’s hand slid up, his palm moving over her back in a caress, and she heard his breath quicken. Their joined hands shifted again, so his thumb brushed against her palm, and she felt fireworks at the simple touch. Felt his reaction as well.
Emma knew she was in danger then. He wanted her.
And more dangerous still . . . she wanted him, too.
Chapter 21
The Plaza wasn’t all that far from her apartment . . . in different circumstances she would have walked. But at one in the morning, after standing all day in high heels and then dancing all night, there was no way her feet were carrying her that many blocks.
There was a line for cabs, and Emma wasn’t surprised when she and Cassidy wordlessly found themselves in line together.
Just like she wasn’t surprised when he slipped his jacket over her shoulders.
Nor was she surprised when he climbed into the cab after her.
She told herself sharing a cab made sense. They were neighbors.
But Emma knew this had nothing to do with practicality or convenience, and everything to do with whatever had passed between them on the dance floor.
They didn’t talk on the cab ride home.
They didn’t touch as the cab headed west on Central Park South toward that fateful moment where they’d stand beside their respective front doors and make a crucial decision.
Emma had been counting on the blast of cold air to jar her back to her senses. Had counted on the inevitable strange food smells one frequently found in New York taxis to cool her ardor.
But it was impossible to think of anything but the man beside her. The man whose tux jacket smelled like him. Spicy and sexy and Cassidy.
She turned her head just slightly under the guise of looking at Central Park, but mostly she just wanted to inhale his scent.
When she turned her head back to face the front, she saw out of the corner of her eye that he was smiling.
He knew what she was up to. But Emma couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed. She was too fuzzy from champagne, too giddy after seeing her dearest friends tie the knot.
Tonight wasn’t about the regrets and what hadn’t happened between Emma and Cassidy.
Tonight was about romance. . . .
And maybe something else she wasn’t ready to name.
The cab pulled up outside their building. Cassidy paid the fare then helped Emma out of the cab.
When she placed her hand in his, it was the first time they’d touched since leaving the dance floor, and Emma tried to ignore the flutter his touch caused.
He released her hand almost immediately, and she told herself she was glad.
Save a thank-you for the doorman who held the door for them, neither of them spoke as they waited for the elevator. Nor as they rode the elevator up to their floor.
Emma’s heart was now pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it, but what she wasn’t sure about was whether he wanted her the way she wanted him.
Maybe even guys could get swept up in the romance of a wedding. Maybe the moment on the dance floor had been a fluke.
But one thing was certain: Emma was not going to set herself up for rejection. She wasn’t opposed to making the first move, but not with Alex Cassidy. She’d taken a risk on him once.
And it had broken her.
They came to his door first, and he stopped.
So did Emma’s heart.
He pulled his key fob out of his pocket, jostling it in his hand as he watched her, his expression unreadable.
She faced him, her stomach fluttering with the realization that he was unsure, too, trying to decide whether to make a move.
Make it, she silently begged. Kiss me.
He didn’t.
And then Emma had a humiliating realization.
He wasn’t waiting to make a move.
He was waiting for his jacket.
Oh my God.
Her cheeks burning, she shrugged out of his tux jacket as quickly as possible, all but thrusting it at him, with a fake smile pasted on her face. “Here you go! Thanks for that. I wasn’t counting on it being so cold, although I don’t know why, since it’s November. . . .”
Shut it, Emma. You’ve never been a babbler. Don’t start now.
He hesitated only briefly before reaching out a hand and accepting the jacket.
She managed to shut up, but she couldn’t quite wipe the stupid goofy smile off her face without worrying that she would break into tears. Emma fumbled only slightly with her clutch, hoping he would chalk it up to the champagne and not her embarrassment at so terribly misreading the situation.
All he’d wanted was a harmless dance—a peace offering for the sake of old times.
And she’d been ready for . . . well, a whole different kind of dance entirely.
“Good night,” she said, once her fingers closed on her keys. One step closer to safety.
“Good night,” he said, watching her.
And that was that.
This is what came of two years of dating, an aborted wedding, seven years of cold war, and one very sexy dance.
Two near strangers staring at each other exchanging good nights in the hallway.
She’d had more animated partings with her pizza guy.
Emma turned, lifting the electronic fob that worked as a key in this fancy building to unlock her door.
Cassidy’s fingers closed around her wrist, and her eyes flew to his. He searched her face before wordlessly pulling her in the opposite direction toward his apartment.
She followed, watching as he unlocked his door. He let go of her wrist then, even as he stepped inside, and she knew what he was doing.
He was giving her a choice.
But she’d never really had a choice. Not when he’d offered his hand to her on the dance floor. And not now.
She dropped her key back into her clutch, and then she stepped toward his door.
Stepped toward him.
Emma held his eyes and w
alked into the apartment, not quite touching him. Cassidy slowly closed the door, perhaps to give her time to change her mind, but Emma didn’t.
She set her clutch on the small console table, and took a deep breath. “I need to take off my shoes. My feet can’t take another second—”
Cassidy kissed her.
No preliminaries, no hesitation—he just stepped closer and dipped his head down to hers, stamping her mouth as though it were his to take.
Seven years.
It had been seven years since she’d kissed this man, but her lips hadn’t forgotten him. The moment she responded, he lifted his hands to her hips, tentatively. And when her hands settled against his chest, his grew bolder, sliding around to her back, pulling her closer until they were touching, chest to chest, hip to hip.
His lips nudged hers open, and Emma responded by reaching for his tongue with hers.
Cassidy groaned and deepened the kiss.
It shouldn’t have felt this good. Not after what they’d been through. But somehow it was better than she remembered. They’d never been lacking for passion, but back then there had been sort of a wide-eyed sense of discovery to their sex life.
Back then, it had been a boy kissing a girl.
This was a man who wanted a woman.
The difference was unmistakably erotic.
He lifted his head when they needed to breathe, brushing a soft kiss against her lips as he pulled back.
“Stay.”
She could only nod.
His hands slid more firmly around Emma’s waist. “For a second there I thought you’d walk into your apartment, and me into mine. I didn’t care for the feeling.”
She smiled and toyed with a button on his shirt. “Such enthusiastic words, Cassidy.”
He dipped his head again, snagging her lower lip between his teeth, scraping it lightly before releasing her. “I’ll show you my enthusiasm in other ways.”
Emma all but purred at the implications behind that.
But first things first. She set her palms on his shoulders and pushed. “I wasn’t kidding about my shoes.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up, and he nodded his head in the direction of the living room. She followed him in, sitting on a chair to free her feet from their stiletto confines as he continued into the kitchen.
“Anything to drink?”
“Water?”
He poured them two glasses from a filtered pitcher in the fridge, and by the time he approached her and handed her a glass, her shoes were discarded.
She wiggled her toes as she raised the glass to her lips, her eyes watching his as she took a sip. He held his own glass of water but didn’t drink. He watched her.
The moment shouldn’t have been sexy. It was water.
And yet they both set their glasses on the table at the same time, his spilling slightly as he yanked her out of her chair toward him.
This time she was ready for his mouth, and the kiss quickly escalated from passionate to carnal. Her fingers made quick work of his bow tie, tugging out the knot and tossing it aside so her fingers could get to the buttons of his shirt.
His hands slid over her back down her hips to her outer thighs, before sliding back up again. He pulled back slightly as she undid the first button.
“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” he said roughly. “It’s all I could think about. I—”
Emma cut off whatever else he was going to say with another kiss. She didn’t want to talk. There were too many things they could say to each other that would ruin this.
But doubt managed to trickle in anyway, and this time it was Emma who pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard as she looked up at him.
“This is just about tonight, right?” she asked. “The proverbial getting laid after the wedding?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but then he nodded. “Just tonight.”
They both looked away then, both knowing that each other’s eyes held truths they weren’t ready to face.
And then Cassidy was kissing her neck, and she was unbuttoning his shirt, and she forgot about everything but how good it felt to have his hands on her. How right this was.
His fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress, pulling it down until the dress fell to her hips. Emma did a little wiggle to let it drop, and then she was standing in front of him in only a strapless bra and thong.
He shook his head, half-dazed as he looked at her.
“Emma.”
Her fingers undid the last of his buttons before sliding the shirt over his sculpted shoulders, revealing the fit, lean perfection that was Cassidy. As a college soccer star, his body had been phenomenal, and it was obvious that he’d held himself to the same high standard of perfection even after his game days were over.
“You know real men aren’t actually supposed to have a six-pack, right?” she said with a smile, running her fingernails lightly over his abs. “It’s supposed to be an unattainable fantasy.”
He kissed her, smiling against her mouth. “Go ahead. You can use me.”
“Oh, I plan to,” she said in a wicked tone. Her fingers found the button and zipper of his pants, her hand dipping inside to slide under his briefs to find the silky steel that was Cassidy.
He gave a harsh breath as she wrapped him in her palm, stroking him as best she could within the confines of his pants and briefs. He let her explore for several moments, his eyes hot on hers, before he roughly wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away from him.
He didn’t release her wrist until they got to the bedroom. Emma pulled back the charcoal bedspread as he removed his socks and pants. Then she sat on the bed, leaning back on her hands in only her bra and panties. He turned, his hungry eyes roaming over her, and Emma felt a surge of pure want so intense it took her breath away.
She’d forgotten that sex could be like this. Was supposed to be like this.
He leaned down, his palms flat on the bed on either side of her hips as he kissed her, his tongue hot and possessive, his mouth hot and demanding.
When his fingers moved inward, brushing her hip bones before hooking into the thin fabric of her panties, Emma leaned back just enough to lift her hips, giving him access to slide them down and off.
He tossed the thong aside, as his hand came between her legs, pausing before touching her. His eyes locked on hers before he gave her what she wanted, his hand pressing between her legs.
Emma cried out, but he showed her no mercy, his thumb rotating in perfect relentless pressure. His hand never stopped as he jerked his chin in the direction of her breasts. “Bra. Off.”
Emma reached behind her, unfastening the bra as instructed and tossing it aside. Had he been this bossy before? Had she liked it so much?
His eyes lowered to her breasts. He put one knee on the bed and she scooted back just enough to make room for him, as his mouth descended on her breast and his fingers continued their slow torture between her legs.
Emma gasped when he lashed her nipple with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth and sucking it. She watched as his cheeks hollowed and his eyes closed as he licked and sucked her, his hand bringing her closer to the edge of sanity.
And then his other hand found her other breast, his fingers rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she gasped.
He slid a finger inside her, hands and mouth never ceasing, and then Emma was there, her body rocketing into orgasmic bliss that she hadn’t felt since . . . Cassidy.
Orgasms just hadn’t been this good since the last time she was with this man.
Damn that was annoying.
He let her recover, kissing her shoulder as he shifted toward his nightstand and pulled a condom out of the drawer.
He tore the wrapper, rolling it on as he leaned down to kiss her.
“Ordinarily I’d take my time, this being the first time and all, except—”
“Except it’s not the first time,” she said, her fingers touching his cheek. “
And it’s been seven years.”
His eyes burned into hers. “My thoughts exactly.”
And then he was rolling on top of her, sliding into her in one firm possessive stroke that had her back arching and her nails digging into his shoulders.
“Christ, Emma . . . there’s nobody . . .”
Her fingers found his lips, stifling words she knew he didn’t really want to say. He nipped her fingers before his hands slid down her sides, over her butt, and down her legs to hook behind her knees, pulling her legs up so they could wrap around his waist.
Emma complied, locking her ankles around his ass, letting him move her arms above her head. His palms were hot against her arms, pinning her to the bed.
He’d always been a fierce lover, and she’d relished every moment, but there was even more intensity now, as he plunged into her again and again, withdrawing occasionally to tease her with the tip of his cock before thrusting into her again.
Their bodies slammed together in perfect rhythm, and then he released her arms, his hands sliding down her body once more to find her knees, pressing them higher so she was spread open wide, using his lower body to rub against her, creating hot, circular friction.
Her eyes flew open. That was a new trick.
It was . . .
And then she was coming again, with quiet cries. She felt herself clench against him, and he pumped once more before he gave a harsh breath and shuddered against her, his fingertips digging into her knees as he came.
When the shuddering stopped, his hands moved up on either side of her head, lifting only slightly to look down at her face before his head dropped, nestling in the hollow between her shoulder and neck.
His breath was hot and damp against her skin, and she trailed her fingers over the hard ridges of his back as she caught her breath.
When his own breathing slowed, Cassidy shifted to the side, his body still half-covering her as he ran a hand down his face.
“What did we just do?”
Emma turned her head to look at him. “I don’t know. It was probably a mistake.”
He turned his head. Met her eyes. “Probably.”
Emma’s heart sank, but then he smiled, boyishly.