Chapter Sixteen

Emmett

It’s the last full day of our New York trip, and I’m torn. On the one hand, I’m grateful to be almost done with these stupid meetings, because I was sick of them about five seconds after the first one began. But it also means that Jenna and I will soon have to part ways again.

I try not to think about the moment that this arrangement will be over for good. But it’s coming closer and closer no matter what. When she’s finally knocked up and doesn’t need me anymore . . . I don’t know what I’ll do.

The meetings drag on until I start to wonder if someone sabotaged all the clocks in the room. Finally, the representatives from the distribution company rise to their feet and say good-bye, and I tear out of there like my ass is on fire.

I head back to the hotel and walk into our room with a weary sigh of relief. “Thank Christ that’s all over. You have no idea how glad I am to be ba—”

Jenna looks up from the vanity mirror where she sits with her hairbrush in hand. I stop to admire the view she’s so generously treated me to. She’s wearing heeled boots and a long suede skirt in deference to the crisp weather, but her top half is adorned with only a lacy black bra.

She quirks her eyebrow at me, smirking ever so slightly. “I take it you like what you see.”

“I always do.” I lean against the wall and flash her a lewd grin. “Don’t stop on my account. Go on, I’ll just enjoy the show.”

She finishes brushing her hair and picks up one of the many makeup jars and palettes scattered in front of her. “As you can see, I’m running late getting ready for dinner.”

I tilt my head. “You do your hair before putting on your shirt?”

“I left it for last so I wouldn’t get makeup all over it. Women do that.” She starts brushing beige powder all over her face.

“Hmm.” It makes sense. I just never would have thought of it on my own. I’ve seen plenty of women dressing or undressing, but never readying themselves for a date. I realize that I kind of like seeing Jenna this way. It feels oddly . . . intimate. Domestic.

After I’ve watched her put on blush, eyeshadow, and lipstick, I ask, “Where do you want to go tonight? If you don’t care, I was thinking steak.” I’m in the mood for seared cow, and I feel like treating Jenna to someplace upscale.

“Steak sounds great. Do you know a good place?” She blinks as she carefully applies mascara.

“Not really, but we can ask the front desk.”

She stands up. “There, I’m done. Sorry for the wait.” She leans toward the bed to pick up a dark red blouse.

“Wait.” I cross the room and reach out to caress her breasts through her bra.

She sucks in her breath almost too quietly for me to hear. Almost. “H-hey . . .”

I bend down to kiss first one breast, then the other, and straighten up to peck her on the cheek, careful not to smudge her makeup. “All right. I’m satisfied . . . until later tonight.”

She laughs, though her cheeks are a little pinker than before. “Okay, horndog, I’m putting the boobs away now.” She shrugs into the blouse and buttons it up.

After asking the concierge for a recommendation, we get into a cab and head to what he claimed was the best steakhouse in the area. We both order bacon-wrapped filet mignon medallions and quickly absorb ourselves with flirting, debating about books and movies, and retelling funny anecdotes from our younger years. I love the way her sharp tongue and even sharper wit keep me on my toes. The waiter’s return barely breaks our stride; we keep chatting and laughing as we eat, completely comfortable together.

Jenna always has a way of lifting the weight off me, and by the time we’ve finished our meal, the stress from work has drained away. All I needed was some good company, good food, and easy conversation. Well, maybe this isn’t everything I need—I definitely plan to follow up on that flirting in bed tonight.

As I polish off my last bite of tender beef, I ask, “Have you enjoyed the trip?”

She nods with a bright smile. “Definitely. Everything’s been great. The library, museums, the hotel spa.” She makes a little noise of pleasure at that last one. I was happy to pamper her. She’ll be pregnant soon and certainly deserves it. “And I’ve worked a little during the day too on my laptop, and checked in with my assistant and the shop.”

I nod. “What do you want to do with the rest of our last night?”

She considers it. “You’ve been to New York before, right? Surprise me.”

I rub my chin. “How about we start with dessert? I know a restaurant that sells nothing but artisan cheesecake in little jars.”

Her eyes light up so dramatically, I have to laugh.

“Guess I picked the right suggestion,” I say, teasing her.

She pokes her tongue out at me with a grin. “What are we waiting for?”

At the next restaurant, we stuff ourselves silly sampling all the different flavors: turtle, blackberry, green tea, lemon ginger, red velvet, and salted caramel apple. Afterward, we visit an art museum, where Jenna excitedly points out the Greek, Roman, and Byzantine influences in every painting and sculpture. Then it’s off to a speakeasy where we drink French cocktails and sway together to a live jazz band. Playing the night by ear, we go on a whirlwind adventure through New York City’s nightlife, hopping from bar to club to gallery, ending with a leisurely people-watching walk through the city streets as we wind our way back to our hotel.

The instant the door clicks shut behind us, I pull her into the bedroom for a hungry kiss. Still devouring her mouth, I unbutton her skirt and let it fall to pool on the floor around her feet. I nudge her backward to sit on the bed, then finally break the kiss to kneel. Too impatient to finish undressing her, I pull aside her panties and dip my head low, inhaling her heady scent before my tongue slips out to taste her. Jenna stifles a groan as she runs her hands through my hair, gripping to hold me in place. I love that groan.

My cock strains painfully at my zipper as I slowly lave her clit and tease her opening with my fingertips. Jenna stares down at me, her cheeks red and pupils dilated, captivated by the erotic sight. Then I flicker my tongue in the exact way I’ve learned drives her wild, and she falls back flat on the bed with a whimper, her hands clutching at my shoulders and head. I suck on her clit and hum, knowing what the vibration will do to her.

“Emmett,” she cries, her nails scraping along my scalp like she’s trying to hold on.

I lap at her like I’m dying of thirst, drunk on her sweet honey, unable to get enough of her. Her hips twitch and grind up into the stimulation. Her cries pitch higher, louder, and then suddenly she gasps and her thighs clamp down around my head so hard they quiver. Her pussy pulses rhythmically against my lips and chin. I don’t stop licking until she chokes, “S-stop. Oh, fuck . . .”

Still breathing hard, she sits up and bends in half to kiss me. In my lust-fogged state, it takes me a second to realize that she’s fumbling at her blouse buttons.

“Hang on,” she mutters.

“Screw the shirt, the boots too. Just come here.”

I lie on the bed and lift a half-naked Jenna in my arms. She straddles me, unzips my dress pants, and sinks down on my cock. I groan aloud in ecstasy. As much as I love her mind and spirit, the baser side of me also loves fucking her bare, and I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to using condoms with the one-night stands I pick up at bars.

Jenna rides me hard, pounding me into the mattress, and I buck up to meet her with every plunge. My fingers grip her, helping her move as my thumbs work furiously at the firm, slick bud. Her thighs tremble with exertion and mounting pleasure. I can’t get enough of her. In moments like this, everything else falls away. She becomes my whole world and I want nothing more than to keep her in my bed forever, to make her feel so good that she’ll never even think about leaving me. My fingers dig bruises into her hips as stars burst white over my vision, and I empty myself inside her. With a little encouragement from my hands, she falls apart a second later, moaning as her inner muscles spasm around me.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she lifts off me, and I feel a pang of loss when the last of my cock slides out. She tugs off the rest of her clothes and lies naked on her side next to me. With a dreamy sigh, she drapes her free arm and leg over me and cuddles close.

I don’t want to disentangle myself from her, even just for the moment it would take to get undressed. I pull her into a secure embrace, my bliss already tinged with melancholy. Some premonition, some gut instinct warns me that the first month was a fluke and she’s sure to become pregnant this time. And then . . .

And then she won’t need me anymore. I will have outlived my usefulness at that point. The thought is sobering.

My arms tighten around her. The thought of letting Jenna go is intolerable, and I have no idea what I’m going to do. I push away the urge to talk to her about this. There wouldn’t be any point. I know there’s no solution to be found . . . no way to make this relationship work. Dragging our incompatibilities out into the open would just pour salt in my wounds.

But God, they hurt already. I ache every time I think about her.

I lie there in the dark, holding a woman I didn’t know I wanted, that I can never have, listening to the soft rhythm of her breath as I try to quiet the doubts starting to swirl through my head.