Emily was left with nothing, but the clear, terrifying confirmation that she loved him. And that she would always love him.
Her body spasmed around him and he uttered a harsh guttural noise, then rolled them over. He laid on his back and, keeping her locked in a kiss bent on intensifying the world around her, gripped her hips, then pushed her hard down on him. Again and again he lifted her, then drove into her.
Another set of spasms ripped through her body as his back arched off the floor and he forced himself into her for the last time.
Emily shuddered uncontrollably and moaned, then dropped her head to his shoulder and panted for her next breath. Nothing could have possibly prepared her for the enormity of making love with the man who gasped for his next breath underneath her. Words could not convey the gargantuan pleasure he had given her. Nothing. Not even her jaded and vivid imagination could have produced a comparable fantasy to encompass the searing completion Jake had shown her.
Emily smiled against his shoulder.
His arm around her waist tightened and the length of him, still buried deep within her, moved. He touched her cheek and smoothed her hair back over her back. "Did I hurt you?"
"You shattered me," she replied sleepily.
"No, sweetheart. I'm the shattered one." Jake eased himself out of her.
"No, don't go," she protested weakly. "You feel so good."
"I don't want to. God knows I don't want to, but I have to." Jake moved her so he could fix his jeans and ease her skirt down. "When you wake up, we're gonna have a long talk."
"I'm not asleep," she murmured with a yawn.
"You will be." Jake heaved a frustrated breath. "And maybe I'll have figured out what the hell just happened." He sat her up in his lap and slipped her bra onto her. "Stay awake long enough to put your clothes on, sweetheart. You're so damned beautiful that if I keep looking at you, you'll be on the desk and I'll be keeping you awake all damn night long."
"That's fine with me."
"I'm sure it is, but the next time I'd like to be the one in control. Marilyn wasn't kidding when she said you were at your best when you were exhausted." He fastened the bra and thrust her arms into her blouse. "I know this fashion extravaganza of yours is a big deal and Marilyn needs your help, but you're not going anywhere until you've had a nap."
"Mmm, that sounds divine. Will you stay with me?" Her eyes fluttered closed.
His fingers shook as he buttoned her blouse. "Someone has to watch over you and I sure as hell need some time to think. Not to mention, time to straighten up a few things in here." He picked her up and gently laid her on the couch, then dropped a kiss on her lips. "Try not to look so wanton, sweetheart. I really need this time to recuperate and think."
Emily curled up on her side and sighed. "Okay. Whatever you say."
Next he slid her underwear on her and, while she grumbled, finished dressing her.
"Thigh highs? You wear thigh highs? Damn erotic things. They're worse than a garter and stockings." Jake smoothed her skirt down. "Shameless hussy. Thigh highs," he muttered. "You, Emily Katherine Stafford, are going to be the death of me."
Emily smiled dreamily and opened her eyes wide enough to look at him. "I love you, too."
"Yeah, well you damn well better." Jake kissed her again. "Especially, if you end up pregnant. Go to sleep. We'll yell at each other when you wake up."
"Yes, sir." Emily drifted back down to the couch and succumbed to the call of sweet sleep.
The last image in her anti-hopelessly-romantic mind was holding a golden haired baby with Jake's mesmerizing eyes and angelic-slash-Beelzebub-ish smile.
Emily's heartfelt sigh traveled from the ends of her hair to the very tips of her toes
Jake grimaced at the condom and shoved it back into his wallet. So much for being prepared. So much for being honorable. So much for all his plans on making her first time everything she deserved.
Of all the places in the world Emily's first time could have happened, she chose the floor of his office. The floor, for Godsake! In The Brigade's office with who knew how many people walking around outside the small room. She had no shame. None whatsoever.
Jake broke into a reluctant grin. He wouldn't have her any other way. Yes, sir, Miss Emily Katherine Stafford put a whole new meaning on being overcome with lust.
No, not lust. She was in love. Well, hell, so was he.
Jake leaned against the desk. His knees weren't as recovered as he'd imagined. He watched the even fall and rise of Emily's chest. She smiled in her sleep. Damn, but she was a sight to see. Her hair was tousled, her lips swollen, and her cheeks reddened from the scratch of the rough stubble on his jaw.
"Damn. One look at her and everyone will know she jumped me." Jake knelt before the couch and smoothed his finger down the redness on her cheek. "Damn, sweet Emily, why did you have to go and make me lose my head? I was doing just fine waiting. We wouldn't have had to wait much longer. But no, you couldn't wait until Saturday night. You just had to go and jump me."
Jake shook his head. "You better not have any regrets, either. 'Cause it's all your fault. Oh sure, I could have pulled out. If a gun had been to my head," he muttered sarcastically. He swiped up his shirt and stood, then pinned her sleeping form with a grave look. "If you end up pregnant because of this, you're marrying me. There will be no argument about that."
"Hell, you're gonna marry me anyway." He jerked into his shirt, then shoved the hem into his jeans. "You'll make a respectable man of me. I'll be damned if any kid of mine will grow up running between condos." He ran his hands through his hair. "And I'll pay for the house in the suburbs. I don't care if you have a billion dollars in the bank. I'm an old-fashioned sort of guy. There will be no question about who takes care of what. And you," he pointed at the nymph blissfully asleep on his couch, "will cease to work so many hours. You'll learn to delegate. My wife won't drive herself ragged at work when she can do it at home and in our bed."
Jake thrust his wallet into his back pocket. "Don't even think about moving from that couch, Emily. I'll be back and then I'm going to do something I never thought I'd do before today." He unlocked the office door and, taking one last look at his exhausted goddess on the couch, said, "Brood."
Jake was a man on a mission as he strode from the office and towards the dimly lit bar. He needed a drink, but, however much he'd like to have a shot of tequila, no woman—no matter how utterly perfect—was enough to make him go back on that particular vow.
Alex looked questioningly at him. "Is Emily asleep?"
Jake grunted affirmatively and walked behind the bar. He snatched up a glass, threw ice into it, then filled it to the brim with soda. "She hasn't slept in almost two days and Marilyn is on her way over to exhaust her further." He drained half the glass, then refilled it. "If this show wasn't so important to Emily, I'd drag her home."
Alex grinned. "You're too honorable for your own good. I'd have dragged her home long before now. Fashion show or not. A man can only take so much and Miss Emily has got you going in circles."
"She's gonna be the death of me," Jake muttered.
Alex touched his chest, a wistful expression on his face. "Ah, but what a way to die."
Bud and Frank grunted their agreements.
A laughed twitched at the corners of Jake's mouth. "You know I'll probably marry her."
"If you don't, I definitely will," Alex said.
"Well, that settles it." Jake was about to ask what time it was when the door opened and Marilyn entered. "Damn." He glanced at the clock, then said to Marilyn as she approached the bar, "Emily is asleep and she will stay that way for the next hour."
"You're a tad protective of her, aren't you?" Marilyn smirked and held up a hand. "Nope. Don't answer that. I know a man in love when I see one."
Jake didn't reply. There was no need to. Marilyn was right and Jake was still trying to sort out the how, why, and where of him falling in love with Emily. He took his drink and headed for the office.
"Where is he off to?" Marilyn asked.
"To the office. He needs some time to think," Alex said. "You know he's gonna marry her."
"Oh, really." Marilyn glanced at Jake as he passed by her. "Tell me Alex, what other juicy bits of gossip have I missed out on?"
"Well, Miss Marilyn, why don't you pull yourself up a chair and make yourself comfortable, 'cause this'll take a while."
"Fashion shows are a general pain in the ass."
Marilyn didn't look up from mending the hem of the March dress. "You're in a good mood this evening. One would have never guessed that you not only had a nap, but got laid, too."
Emily threw herself down into a chair and glared at her best friend. "For once, I would like to be able to keep a secret from you."
Marilyn glanced up at her. "Baby doll, there is no way in the world you would be able to hide that glow. It's written all over your face."
Emily sighed and melted into the chair. "You were right."
"About what? I'm right about so many things that it's hard to keep track."
"About waiting until you're emotionally ready for sex."
Marilyn gave her one of her wise smiles. "Honey, you don't know what sex is. That boy made love to you."
"I didn't know there was a difference."
"There's a big difference." Marilyn tied off the thread and used her teeth to snap off the excess from the hem. "You know you've found the right man if when he makes love to you, more than just your body is touched. Your soul shatters into a million pieces and, when it's put back together, he's a part of it. Booker writes about it in his poetry. He calls it a merging of souls."
"What do you call it?"
"Me? I call it love."
Emily couldn't help, but notice wistful sadness in Marilyn's eyes. "Who was he?"
Marilyn frowned. "He who?"
"The guy who broke your heart."
"Oh. Him. His name was Trace Gentry and he happened a long, long time ago."
"You loved him?"
Marilyn stood up and shook out the dress. "Heart, mind, body, and soul."
"Then why aren't you with him?"
"Because I'm an idiot."
"How so," Emily prodded.
Marilyn sighed. "Trace got suspicious one night and followed me to work. Imagine my surprise when I walked back to the dressing room pulling dollar bills from my panties and found Trace waiting for me. Needless to say, we fought, said quite a few nasty things to each other, then went our separate ways."
"That is so shallow of him not to understand," Emily muttered.
"Shallow? Lee, what would you do if you walked into a bar and found Jake shaking his
thang
in front of a bunch of hormonally imbalanced women and letting them stuff money into his skivvies? I'll tell you what I'd do if I ever saw Trace doing that. I'd hit the roof. I don't know about you, honey, but I've got a jealous streak a mile wide."
Emily's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "That's why you and Booker want me to tell Jake about the dancing?"