by Elle Kennedy
Colby had to chuckle.
“After that, none of us would bring dates if we could help it,” Suz said. “But then we all started getting lectured nonstop about being single, so we reached an agreement last year. Every month one of us takes the bullet for the others and brings someone for my parents to fawn over and interrogate. So now it’s my turn, and I have zero prospects. I can’t just ask any old Joe off the street. It needs to be someone I actually know so my parents don’t catch on that I’m trying to trick them. But it can’t be someone I actually like, because then they’ll scare him off.”
Colby’s spine stiffened. “So you want me to go with you, because I’m not someone you actually like?”
Alarm flitted through her eyes. “Wait. No. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just saying—”
He shot off the couch, his jaw tight enough to crack his teeth in half. “I know exactly what you were saying, Suz. And I don’t fucking appreciate it.”
She stood too, guilt and remorse swimming on her face. “Colby—”
“Don’t Colby me,” he growled. “I’m tired of these games, all right? I made it more than clear what I wanted from you, Suz. Not a one-night stand, and certainly not a pretend date. I want the real thing, and…” He sucked in a breath. “And if you don’t want to give me that, then you know what? Fine. There’re plenty other women who will.”
He stalked out of the living room before she had a chance to answer. Or protest. Or make excuses. Let her stew on this for a while, because God knew he’d been obsessing over it for way too long.
Now it was her fucking turn.
Chapter Ten
For the second time in less than a week, Dean stood at the door to Emma’s suite, his hand poised to knock. This time he hadn’t brought flowers but a bottle of merlot he couldn’t wait to crack open because…well…he was nervous.
Figure that one out.
He felt like a goddamn virgin on prom night, which, fuck it all, he’d already been once. Hell, twice if he counted his own and Emma’s proms. Damp palms, racing pulse, throbbing boner. The last time his nerves had been this out of whack, he’d been about to make love to the most amazing girl on the planet.
Emma.
Jesus, they were going to have sex tonight. Their sparring session earlier had rapidly transformed into some serious foreplay, just as he’d hoped it would. Their chemistry hadn’t faded over time—if anything, it had only become more explosive. He wanted her. So fucking much he couldn’t even think her name without getting hard. And she wanted him, too, otherwise she never would have invited him over tonight.
So why the hell was he nervous?
When the door opened, all the breath left his body and his throat closed up, because holy fuck, she looked incredible. Her emerald-green dress was so short he could see the bottoms of her lacy black garters peeking out, and her smoky eye shadow make her catlike eyes appear bigger. Sexier.
“Right on time,” she told him, and damned if she didn’t wink as she accepted the wine bottle he held. “Come in.”
He followed her inside, savoring the way her hips shifted sensually under the silky fabric of her thigh-baring dress.
“I’ll grab us some glasses,” Emma tossed over her shoulder as they headed for the living area.
“Unless you want to drink straight out of the bottle…”
She paused in the middle of the room, a vision of soft curves and elegant beauty as her fingers tightened on the bottle briefly. “I guess we’ve done that before, huh?”
“Yeah, but you’re right. We need glasses tonight. It’s not Boone’s Hill.”
Her laughter sent chills through him. So familiar. So tempting.
Emma disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later. She brought him a bottle opener before placing two delicate wine glasses on the coffee table. “Let’s see if you’re still good with your hands.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “I already showed you how talented my hands are back at the dojo.”
She settled on the couch beside him, and even as he uncorked the bottle, he never stopped admiring her. She’d taken her hair out of the braid and it curled softly around her face, ringlets he ached to tease with his fingers.
“You look amazing, by the way,” he told her, passing her a full glass.
Emma’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I put on makeup. I never wear makeup.” She paused. “You should feel special.”
“Trust me, baby, I feel plenty special.” He held his glass in the air. “To old friendships.”
“Really? That’s your toast? I expected it to be a lot dirtier, considering why I asked you to come over.”
“Expecting, or hoping?” he drawled.
Her smile turned impish. “Hoping.”
“Fine, how’s this? To the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and whose body I’m about to ravish.”
Emma raised a brow. “You call that dirty?”
“Are you seriously questioning my dirty-talking skills, Em? Because the moment my mouth goes into filthy mode, there’s no going back.”
“Yeah? Because I’m still not hearing anything dirty…”
She was goading him, and he fucking loved it.
“Just remember—you asked for it.” He once again raised his wineglass. “To Emma and the sexy-as-fuck dress she’s wearing, which I’m about to rip off with my teeth. And to Emma’s gorgeous tits, which I’m going to suck and kiss all night. And Emma’s pussy, which will be pulsing against my tongue when I lick her to a mind-shattering orgasm that makes her scream—”
Her wide eyes sent a jolt of panic through him. Shit, maybe he’d gone too far. The last time they’d had sex, he was a nineteen-year-old with zero lovers under his belt. He’d come a long way since then…a very long way, with a lot of other women. These days, his sexual preferences veered closer to kinky than the sweet tenderness Emma was probably expecting.
To his surprise, the shock in her expression transformed into hot, gleaming lust. Groaning, she grabbed his glass and jerked it from his grasp, the red liquid sloshing over the rims of the wine glasses as she slammed both on the coffee table.
The next thing he knew, she was straddling his thighs, her breathing shallow as she brought her lips inches from his. “Kiss me. Now.”
His cock turned to granite as Emma slid a hand up his chest and settled against him, the contact with her soft curves stealing what little brains he still had. “You didn’t let me finish my toast,” he teased.
She undulated against him, her skirt riding higher on her thighs. “Do you really want to keep talking, or would you rather move straight to the sex?”
He pretended to think it over. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“I don’t want to drive,” she murmured. “Not anymore. I want to be driven. Mad.”
Mad was a good description of what was happening. Dean went for it, though, taking Emma at her word. “Any requests?”
She leaned forward until their lips were nearly touching. “What part of me not driving do you not understand? And why are we still wearing clothes?”
He laughed, skimming his hands up her thighs, soft brown skin under his palms. “Impatient. I thought you didn’t want to drive?”
Emma shrugged. “You didn’t seem to be taking the wheel.”
She’d never been so forward before…and Dean shoved the thought away. This wasn’t Emma, the girl he’d loved. This was a mysterious new woman who wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He inched his thumbs under the edge of her silky skirt, stroking in circles and driving himself crazy. “Let go of the controls, baby. Let it all go.”
He was the one who closed the distance between them, making contact with her mouth, and just like at the dojo, he nearly lost his fucking mind. She tasted so good—sweet and tempting and dirty enough he didn’t hold back. He ravaged her lips, kissing her like it was the first time in forever, hungry for more. He caught her around the back of her neck and held her in place as he laid a row of kisses along her jaw and h
eaded for the tender spot under her ear that had always made her squirm.
“Yes,” Emma moaned, pulling hard at his shirt. A couple buttons snapped free, bouncing with teeny pings over the granite flooring, but he cared more about her hands skimming over his chest, fingernails digging in as he put his teeth to her skin and nipped.
Dean smoothed one side of her dress down over her shoulder, pressing another kiss to where her bra strap wasn’t. “You’re pushing all my buttons, woman. No bra?”
“A good designer builds underwear into her clothing.” Emma’s breathing grew ragged as he pushed off the other side and the material pooled downward, leaving her naked from the waist up.
He cupped her ass in his hands and lifted her higher. “A gorgeous woman needs no enhancements.”
He wrapped his lips around her dusky brown nipple and she purred in response. Threading her fingers through his hair as he licked and sucked. Dean had just put his teeth to one rigid bud when the rest of what she’d said hit. He squeezed his fingers, but it was impossible to tell if she was wearing panties without letting go of her breasts, and he wasn’t nearly done playing yet, not unless he got creative.
Good thing creative was his middle name.
He rocked forward, lifting Emma with him as he twisted, placing her on the couch without letting go. Only now his hands were free to explore, sliding under the fabric and—
“Oh God. Yes. There,” she demanded, her fingers still tangled in his hair as she raised her hips, chasing his touch as he slipped through her folds.
He teased her clit gently for a long time, giving in to his need to fixate on her breasts until he’d had his fill. Finally he pressed a kiss to her nipple before pulling away far enough to admire her.
Emma lay wanton on the couch, limbs spread, eager for more. The green fabric of her dress bunched around her waist, a shimmering contrast against her smooth brown skin. He glanced at her face, thrilled to see her lips heavy with lust, lips that were swollen from his kisses. He stroked her clit again and her breath hitched.
“So many things I want to do with you,” Dean muttered. “So many wicked, dirty things.”
It took every ounce of willpower not to verbalize the obscene images flashing through his head. He didn’t want to scare her off. This was Emma, damn it. She deserved sweet words and whispered promises, not the crude debauchery he reveled in these days.
“I want them all,” she begged. “Don’t stop. Don’t—”
Her head fell back and her eyes closed as he pushed two fingers into her, his thumb taking up the rhythm against her clit. Her body trembled, and she clutched his shoulders again, pulling her toward him.
He went eagerly enough, not done with her mouth. Not finished with any of her. He kissed her. Swallowed her gasps as he stroked his fingers in and out of her sex, increasing the pressure on her clit until she stiffened under him, nails digging into his shoulders through his unbuttoned shirt as she rolled into her first climax. “Dean. So good…”
“Just the start, baby. Just the start.”
He twisted her on the couch and dropped between her legs, pushing up on her knees to expose her sex. She was wet with desire and he couldn’t resist leaning in and licking up both sides of her pretty folds. Slow and careful, with a tiny swirl of his tongue over her sensitive clit.
Emma rewarded him with another long moan, and his damn cock somehow got even harder, tight against his jeans. The imprint of his zipper was going to be there for days, but it would be worth it in the end.
“Oh baby, you’re gorgeous everywhere,” Dean said with a smile, glancing into her dark brown eyes. “I’m going to take my time tonight. Every inch of you is mine to explore.”
She nodded but flicked a finger up and down at him. “You could give me a floor show, too, you know. Strip. Get naked, all that jazz.” When he tossed aside his shirt, a slight edge bit into her voice. “Nice tattoo. Ranger?”
It occurred to him all she knew about his military career was that it was part of the reason he’d deserted her, and guilt rose in his throat as he remembered what he’d done. But he didn’t want to ruin the moment, to lose the trust he was slowly earning back, so he forced a light tone and said, “We lead the way.”
He traced the banner on his left pec with a finger. Her gaze followed his motion before drifting higher to examine the pouncing wolf above it. “First tour of duty I got the banner,” he said gruffly. “Second, I got the wolf.”
He lifted her hips and tugged her dress down her legs, slowing as the material trailed over her calves. He used the silky fabric to tease her, twisting and rubbing lightly before tossing her clothes to the floor and pressing his lips to her instep.
Emma’s eyes flashed fire. “Naked. Now.”
Ignoring her demand, he leaned over and put his mouth against her sex, breathing deeply as her scent wrapped around him and tied his brain in knots. “You’re not in charge.”
He stabbed his tongue deep as he pushed between her thighs. Her fingers were back on his head, twisting as she tried to get a firm enough grip to direct him. Dean didn’t give a damn about anything but listening to her moan in pleasure as he relearned her all over.
Every twitch, every sigh drove his need higher until she gasped, her thighs trembling as another orgasm took her. Emma laughed as she curled up and caught him by the shoulders, her hips slipping off the couch as he pulled her to the floor under him.
Her hair was tousled around her head, a sharp contrast with the pristine white carpet under her. Naked honey-toned skin passed silky smooth under his hand as Dean rolled to the side and simply gave in to the need to touch. Petting and caressing until she was squirming.
She arched her back and presented tight-tipped nipples to him. “Don’t stop,” she ordered. “Please. I want you inside me.”
Dean had planned to lick and explore for a lot longer, but her words were a trigger. He rose to his knees and forced down his jeans, inelegantly hauling them off. He scrambled in the pocket for a condom before tossing them aside.
Emma ran her hands along the waistband of his boxers for a second before dipping under and wrapping her fist around his cock. “Sweet Jesus, you’re so perfect,” she breathed in admiration, her heated palm stroking so expertly he was suddenly worried this was going to be the shortest reunion in history.
“Hands off the wheel,” he teased, shoving down the final layer between them and exposing the full length of his ready, oh-so-ready erection.
“Habit,” Emma whispered, but she let go and allowed him to finish slipping on the condom. Then he guided her to the floor, crawling over her and pinning her in place. The heavy weight of his cock brushed her belly as he kissed her. Once. Twice. He nipped her lips and rocked his hips, and she purred happily, her thighs opening in welcome, legs rising to wrap around him.
“Now,” Emma insisted. “Oh, please, now, Dean.”
It was far sooner than he’d intended, but hell if he could wait any longer. He reached between them and grasped his cock, lined up the head between her soft, wet folds, took a deep breath—
Music went off at maximum volume right beside his ear. Emma’s eyes widened, and she rolled from under him like her ass was on fire.
“My God, I’m so sorry, I have to get this.” She grabbed her phone off the coffee table and damn near sprinted for the hallway, her naked butt wiggling enticingly as she escaped. Her voice echoed off the walls briefly as she answered the call, then vanished into a side room.
Dean collapsed to his back and fought to keep from roaring in frustration. His cock fucking ached, and his lungs didn’t seem to be taking in enough oxygen.
He caught himself stroking his erection. What was the protocol when abandoned in mid-coitus? Should he jack off or wait for her?
God. So much for not thinking about the past. Because this was the past. Wanting Emma so damn bad and not being able to have her. Fighting the wicked fire of desire he’d held leashed for so long with an ironclad fist for both their sakes. He’d promised
to wait until she was ready, and he’d done just that.
He’d waited two long years to make love to her when they were kids—surely he could wait two minutes right now.
He released his cock and stared at the ceiling, listening to the increasingly urgent tone of Emma’s voice as she spoke on the phone.
When she strode back into the living area a minute later, the unhappiness in her eyes—and the fact she’d covered herself up with a terrycloth robe—told him that he was in for a longer wait than anticipated.
“I am so sorry to do this,” Emma sighed, “but…”
With a sigh of his own, he sat up and swiped his boxers off the floor. “But you’re kicking me out.”
Misery shone in her expression. “I’m really, really sorry. I mean it, Dean. You don’t know how much I want to…” Her eyes ignited with heat before flickering with resignation. “But I can’t. I have to put out a work-related fire, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be on the phone with Paris all night.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked, tugging his boxers on before searching for his jeans.
She ran an aggravated hand through her hair. “No, it’s not. My…boss made some comments to a reporter from Vogue, some incredibly inappropriate comments, and now it’s up to me to sweet-talk my way back into their good graces.” She groaned in frustration. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand.” He finished dressing and headed toward her, touching her cheek in reassurance.
“I want this,” Emma said firmly. “I really do want this to happen, and I promise you’ll have my full attention next time.”
His aching cock sure as hell hoped so, but his brain was far more skeptical. “Em…what exactly do you want out of this? I don’t even know how long you’re in town for.”