Chapter 7
His desire spurned her further as she greeted his tongue with hers, swallowing one of his groans. She plunged her fingers in his hair and greedily twirled the thick texture, drawing him nearer.
One strong hand cradled the back of her head, while the other rolled down her body. He took his time, gliding effortlessly over lacy material and the small of her back. Then, he grasped a handful of her bottom and squeezed. The absolute least favored part of her, she stiffened slightly in his arms.
He paused, the motion drawing his attention as her eyes met his.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Shaking her head, she felt foolish, “It’s nothing. I, just, don’t care for that part of my body.”
He frowned and only squeezed harder. “Why is that?”
She couldn’t believe he was going to make her say the words out loud. “Because it’s too big?”
He didn’t offer a response right away, but instead he moved both hands and rested them on said body part. Giving both cheeks another good squeeze. She sucked her belly in as he pulled her tightly to him, evidence of his need, rock-hard and ready between them.
“Well, I beg to differ, sweet, Emma. I’ve fantasized what that ass looks like bared.”
Weakening, she sagged into him and her lids drifted shut. He moved from her ear to her neck, nibbling her earlobe as he feasted his way toward her collarbone. The tops of her breasts were getting attention as well, and her chest heaved, as he took one in his hand, kneading the globe between powerful fingers.
If this continued a millisecond longer, she would beg him to go back to his apartment.
She opened her eyes and backed away a little.
“Patrick, we need to stop.” Again, her voice betrayed her, coming out shakier and breathier than she’d have liked.
Her lapse in judgment could have been blamed on the wine, but she knew better. Alcohol had zero to do with the languid intoxication flowing through her veins.
He paused, and even in the dark, she could see the passion burning within the green depths. He’d been just as affected as she.
Following suit, he stepped back. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll take you home.”
The walk back to the car was silent, and the drive home, even more so. She kept her gaze averted toward the streetlights that cast shadows into the nooks and crannies of the evening.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at her doorstep. Emma reached into her purse and grabbed her keys. Then she removed his jacket and handed it back to him.
“Thank you for a very lovely evening,” she said.
“You’re welcome. I had an amazing time tonight too, Emma.” He kept his distance, his hands jammed in his pockets. “I’ll see you Monday.”
Blowing out a breath of frustration, she unlocked the door and made her way inside.
~ ~ ~
Rock-hard and still turned on, he hightailed it home fast.
Whoa, there. If kissing Emma inflamed him this way, he imagined more might very well kill him.
On fire and starved, that was what she’d been in his arms. He could feel it in her touch, the way she’d greedily woven her fingers through his hair.
Disrobing, he noticed that her scent, of wildflowers and jasmine, clung to the jacket. He hurried his pace and jumped into a cool shower. Bracing one hand against the wall, he grasped his swollen dick in one hand. At the very least, it would ease his discomfort.
Moments later, he finished his business, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed naked.
The better part of the night would be spent tossing, turning, and replaying that salacious kiss over, and over, in his mind.
My God. He wanted her. Bad. He pictured a slow, methodic removal of that dress, so he wouldn’t miss a thing. Damn. How he longed to see all the beautiful parts of her that only changed and ripened for the better.
Emma brought out emotions that, honest to God, frightened him. He’d begun to feel things for her he had no business feeling.
Since Laura had passed away, he’d dated and had mostly short, brief flings. Those were only attempts to drown himself, forget his sorrows in meaningless sex. Right after she died, and dealing with the double funeral, he’d quite frankly, been a total mess. Waking in women’s apartments, and not even remembering how he got there. Sadly, not recalling much at all.
After hearing of his escapades, his brother Mike flew to Rhode Island to offer help. It had taken quite a bit of convincing, but Mike finally made him realize the gravity of the situation.
Ever since, he’d decided to go off the dating grid. Quitting sex cold turkey. That’d been two years ago, and he was doing okay, until he set eyes on Emma again.
She brought out feelings he’d not felt in a long time, and it scared him. Truthfully, he didn’t want to feel anything. Feelings led to pain.
The attraction was mutual, and tonight he’d seen it in her eyes, felt it in her passionate kisses and body language. He could imagine those luscious breasts pressed against him. Good Lord, he wanted nothing more than to take her to bed, make love to her until he was weak.
The grim reality was he could never take Emma to bed because she deserved better, deserved more than casual sex. Frankly, he wasn’t prepared to give her more. He wasn’t good at giving of himself emotionally, terrified at the prospect of losing someone again. Casual sex was all he was willing to give. He couldn’t afford to fall in love again and had no intention of doing so.
Which was why he had to try to keep his distance from her, from now on. He didn’t want to hurt her.
Only trouble was, how in hell would he stay away from her?
~ ~ ~
Emma swore she blinked and the weekend was over.
After her date with Patrick, she and Sarah did some light grocery shopping, and spent most of their time camped out in front of the TV, binge-watching Golden Girls episodes.
She enjoyed her job but the idea of facing Patrick sent a heavy dread through her.
That kiss, which replayed itself in her mind, brought about a sleepless, uncomfortable night.
Patrick is a co-worker, and you need to keep a rational mind. Put your emotions and personal feelings aside, Emma. You can do this.
A half hour later, she and Sarah arrived at the office, but she observed he hadn’t.
Thankful for the small miracle, she made her way to her own office, and prepared for the day.
She’d just finished her emails from the weekend when her gaze gravitated upward and she spotted him across the lobby. That navy-blue suit and charcoal-gray tie made him look extra delicious today, but hell.
Who are you kidding?
He looked amazing every day.
Averting her stare, she shut her laptop, grabbed her folders and notes, and made her way to the conference room.
On her trek, she paused in the doorway, observing him talking with a fellow male co-worker, letting loose a laugh that made her smile. She loved the sound, the carefree, sexy, boyishness of it. Then, she made the mistake of zeroing in on his mouth, and recalling those lips settled over her own, only the other night.
Shaking her foolishness aside, she squared her shoulders. For crying out loud, snap out of it, Emma!
She made her way to the conference room and set her things down.
Patrick’s all-male scent invaded her nostrils, and she instantly sensed his presence.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
She smiled. “Hi, Patrick.”
Seconds dragged on, as she remembered that tastier-than-hell kiss. God help her, but she wanted it again.
He came closer and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re still a fantastic kisser, by the way. I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a while now.”
Words escaped her for a moment, and all she could do was stupidly stare back at him. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that he was a hell of a good kisser too.
Talk about mixing business with pleasure. She realized if his kisses had managed to wreak this much havoc, she could only imagine him in bed. Time had only made him more delicious, and sinfully wicked.
“Thank you, Patrick.”
Then, thank God, he withdrew his hand, and stepped back.
For a few painfully silent moments, he assessed her, his head cocked in just that way, as if he tried and read her thoughts, but failed. “Okay. Let’s get to work then.”
~ ~ ~
Later that evening, she sat at the conference room table, rubbing the back of her neck to free a kink. She blew out a breath, as they’d made wonderful progress on their work.
She was tired, but satisfied, and it helped that time had flown quickly. A few people still worked beyond the room, but not many. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was a bit past 5:30.
“Are you hungry?” he asked from across the table.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Would you like to order in, have dinner here?”
Emma shook her head. “Better yet, why don’t we order out and head back to my apartment? How does that sound?”
His natural smile made her stomach flutter.
“That sounds good to me.”
Forty-five minutes later, they reached her apartment, bags of Chinese and briefcases in hand.
After unlocking her door, she set her things down and removed her shoes. “Sarah’s housesitting for her brother tonight. Make yourself at home.”
Although just why she mentioned that they had the apartment all to themselves mystified her, she shrugged it off.
If she were being honest with herself, the starvation wasn’t for food. Only one dish sounded alluring tonight—Patrick, served on a silver platter, sunny side up.
Goodness, but her imagination carried her away. She flicked the annoying thoughts aside and focused on her task. Getting out a couple plates and forks, she made her way to the living room, where he already made himself at home. His jacket lay on the couch and he’d undone his tie. It hung loosely around his neck. Papers, notebooks, pens, and highlighters scattered all around them.
After setting the plates down, she rubbed her hands together. “All right then, let’s get started.”
~ ~ ~
Two and a half hours passed, and she’d not even felt it. They’d fallen into a comfortable work and dinner session, laughing and joking.
“Can you fetch me that report over there?” she asked, trying to hide her intentions.
His eyes averted, she snatched the last crab Rangoon from the plate. Turning her head, she took a quick bite, and stuffed the rest in, relishing in the flavors. She took a satisfying swallow, and at that precise moment, he turned to look at her.
“Did you eat the last Rangoon?”
She grabbed her glass of water and took a swallow.
“No,” she lied.
He set the papers aside and a mischievous grin covered his face. “You’re going to pay for that, you know.”
Without warning, he tickled her mid-section, and in a fruitless attempt to escape, between sidesplitting laughs, they landed in an awkward heap of arms and legs on the other side of the living room. She rolled over papers, notes, pens, highlighters, but that didn’t stop him, which only made her laugh even harder. Her sides ached and her face even more.
“Patrick, okay,” she said between gasps. “Okay, stop. Was that really necessary?”
He nodded. “Yes, I think so.”
Tamping down the bubble of laughter, she tried to keep a straight face, but failed. “You’re such a big kid.”
Silence overtook the room, until she could feel her own heart beating fiercely. No more laughter, no more teasing.
“I don’t know about you, but I had a great time tonight,” he murmured.
“I did, too.”
An awkward, heavy silence clung to the air, and she knew what she wanted to say. She didn’t have the nerve to voice her thoughts out loud. Even as the starving part of her didn’t care anymore, even if regret might visit come morning.
She wanted Patrick.
His body nestled perfectly against hers, sending goose bumps rippling across her arms.
Emma observed his passion-darkened features, and gulped, feeling like a virgin on her wedding night, even if she was far from it. God damn it, she couldn’t help the swell of emotions overriding common sense. Her common sense barometer was broken.
Gently, he cupped her cheek and titled his head. Landing with the softest, gentlest feather-light kisses to her lips.
Her fingers itched, wanted to rip the pesky piece of material between them, away. For crying out loud, you’d think she’d never been with a member of the opposite sex before. She’d never wanted anyone as fiercely as she wanted Patrick. Her heart pounded like a kick drum, simply by the way he looked at her: with pure heat, pure fire shining from his face.
He broke the kiss, and she observed his jaw clenching and unclenching. “If I stay, we both know I won’t be leaving until morning. This is a bad idea.”
Frankly tired of playing it safe, of depriving herself, she was about open her mouth to speak but suddenly couldn’t form words. She saw the inner battle he’d lost written on his face.
As if some other force was at work, she wrapped her arms around him and wove her fingers through his hair.
“I like bad ideas,” she murmured.
Her breath stilled as she waited for a response. When his lips claimed her mouth in another sweet kiss that turned wild within seconds.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, while his mouth continued devouring and tasting her. His tongue greeted hers, an open-mouthed kiss like sticky nectar, and addicting. She desperately wanted more.
Then, he paused only long enough to ask, “Which bedroom is yours?”