“Minus the sense of humor. And the magic carpetbag.”
“I kind of like the idea of you in a petticoat,” Seth replied. “You should try that.”
“I’m starting to think you have some weird fetishes,” Emma said, trying to pull her hands away. He tugged them back, and a hazy memory surfaced of copping a cheap feel of Aaron’s chest at Sam’s party. This was so much better.
I’m never going to get anywhere with him if all I ever do is react to him,
she thought. It was just hard to do anything
but
react when he was spread out before her like this. Strategizing would have to come later. When she could think straight.
At this point, that might be
much
later.
“No weird fetishes,” Seth said, mischief glittering in his eyes. “But you know what I do have a thing for?”
She knew she was playing into his hands, but Emma shook her head. “No.”
“Classy little suits,” he said, letting go of one of her hands to lightly grasp one of her lapels and run his hand down it, the back of his knuckles grazing her breast. Her heart stumbled in her chest, then began to quicken.
“Oh?” she asked innocently. Seth nodded.
“Suits,” he said. His hand moved to toy with the ends of her hair, sliding it through his fingers. “Brunettes,” he continued, giving the hair a light tug. Emma hesitated for only a moment before obliging him, leaning down so that her mouth was just a breath away from his, her hair sliding over the bare skin of his chest.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Suits and brunettes,” she said softly, one hand braced beside his head. “That’s a little weird, but not too bad. Anything else?”
Seth nodded, and the look in his eyes was strangely uncertain even as his lips parted in a fleeting smile.
“Yeah. You.”
“Now that is definitely weird,” Emma said, hardly believing that she was taking such a risk. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
I
t was the second time she’d kissed him on purpose, but Emma knew from the moment her lips touched his that this kiss carried an entirely different meaning. The stolen kiss in her mother’s hallway had been innocent—well, mostly innocent.
This one was anything but.
Seth’s lips parted beneath hers instantly, his tongue darting out to tease hers. She played along, light tastes, flickering strokes of her tongue against his. It was gentle, playful, but with her hand still trapped against his chest, Emma could feel the beat of Seth’s heart pick up to match her own. She felt his hand tuck her hair behind her ear, then trace a path down her cheek. It was a light touch, and heartbreakingly gentle. It made her wonder what he felt, whether he would ever tell her. There was time, she thought.
Except sometimes there wasn’t. She knew it well, and that knowledge had colored every aspect of her life. Even now, as she flattened her palm against his chest, as he allowed her to slowly slide it down the length of his torso without letting go, she felt the same wild desperation that had always driven her to either hang on so tight it hurt, or to run while she could.
Instinct said run. But he was so warm, and the kiss was the kind of bliss she had only imagined. Emma couldn’t pull away.
She sank into it, savoring the way his breath caught when her fingers played over his stomach, down, then up again. She loved the way he was built, slight but strong. And she’d spent far too much time imagining what he would look like, feel like, if she ever got brave enough to see beneath his uniform. Seth released her hand to hook a finger in her belt and pull.
“Come down here with me,” he murmured against her lips. “Wouldn’t want you to get uncomfortable.”
She smiled. “Very chivalrous of you.”
“You’re lucky I was good at English or I’d think you’d just insulted me.”
“Hmm,” she said, shifting onto her side, unfolding her legs, and stretching out alongside Seth on the floor. Knowing he watched her, she took an extra few seconds to adjust her skirt, then offered an amused smile. The new position was more comfortable . . . at least in some ways. “I think you like my vocabulary. I think it’s an aphrodisiac.”
His soft laugh rippled over her skin, making her shiver while he made room for her head on the pillow beside him. “Sure. Your having your hands all over me for the last half hour had nothing to do with it.”
“Shh,” Emma said as she snuggled up against him, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t shatter my illusions, please.”
She could feel his smile, and he kissed her fingertip. It was a small, sweet gesture that managed to silence every doubt she had. They would no doubt return in force at some point, but for now, there was only silence. Emma wanted to enjoy it while she could.
Now that he had her where he wanted her, Seth pulled her in close, taking her mouth in a series of long, languid kisses that captured Emma more fully with every beat of the slow and sensuous rhythm they created. One of his hands slid up to brush against her hair, down her neck, his touch excruciatingly light. Emma pressed into him, offering what she hoped was silent encouragement. She stroked over his waist, up his back, tangling her fingers in the brushy softness of his hair. Every time he drew in a sharper breath, every time he moved against her, she waited for Seth’s touch to lose its gentleness. Instead, his tender, teasing assault on her senses continued until it was all Emma could do not to writhe against him and beg for his touch.
Desperate, she managed to unbuckle her belt and undo the buttons on her jacket, stripping both off quickly to reveal the thin camisole beneath. Her breasts felt fuller, tighter, the nipples taut little buds that sent tiny shocks through her system each time they rubbed against Seth’s chest. When his breathing grew a little harsher, she nearly growled in triumph. Her clothes chafed her skin, demanding to be shed despite Seth’s apparent disinterest in removing them.
Maybe I’m moving too fast. Maybe I’m losing my mind. Maybe celibacy has actually destroyed some brain cells.
When her patience with him was stretched to the breaking point, Emma decided that nonverbal communication was getting her nowhere. She pulled back from the kiss, rose up on one elbow, and found herself staring into eyes so hazed with need that she wasn’t sure whether to kiss him, kick him, or start removing his pants to save them both further agony.
“Are we going to have sex?” she demanded breathlessly.
“God, I hope so,” Seth groaned, his voice strained.
“Okay,” Emma said. “Because I’m going to start ripping off my clothes soon, and I didn’t want you to get upset.”
Seth’s laughter was hoarse. “I didn’t want
you
to get upset. You can take off anything you want to. I think I might die. Jesus.”
“Why would I get upset?”
“I don’t know. It’s new. I didn’t want you to leave. Can we analyze this later? I can see it was a bad decision now, and I’d like to get back to the clothes-off thing.”
Leave it to her to find the last white knight on the planet. Desire pushed her to be more blunt than she would ever have imagined being in this situation. “Seth,” she said, cupping his flushed cheek with her hand, “just so we’re clear. I want you. Hard. Bad. Now.”
He made a soft, strangled sound in the back of his throat, and Emma had only a split second to wonder what she’d just asked for before she was on her back, Seth covering her completely. Emma barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on hers, and this time the kiss held nothing back. It was everything she’d demanded, hard and hot, until there was no doubt left about what he wanted to do to her.
Emma had visions of coming off as a sex goddess, but she managed to get tangled in her cami while attempting to pull it off. To his credit, Seth didn’t miss a beat when he got her out of it, and he managed to toss her bra across the room with it just a second or two afterward. Emma heard it hit the window, and she laughed into the kiss.
“I should have asked sooner.”
“Next time just jump me. I’m good with that.” He pulled back to cup her breasts in his hands, his breath ragged as he teased the tight buds of her nipples with his thumbs. “You really are perfect.” Emma couldn’t muster a comeback, instead just arching into his touch, her head falling back. This was what she’d wanted, she thought. This sweet ache, building into even sweeter oblivion.
Then his mouth closed over one nipple, beginning to suckle her. One hand slipped between her legs, pushing aside the thin fabric of her underwear to toy gently with the swollen nub beneath. When his tongue began to flicker against her skin, moving in time with his talented fingers, Emma’s mouth opened on a wordless cry as her first orgasm arrowed straight through her. She surged against him, hips quivering as she rode out every hot pulse of her climax. Seth raised his head to watch her, his expression one of wonder.
Stunned and shaken at her body’s reaction to him, she could only muster a single word: “Please.”
He vanished, silent as a cat, and it seemed like only seconds before he was back, though it was just long enough for her to regain some semblance of rational thought. There was a small wrapper in his hand, and his pants had vacated the premises. Emma let her eyes roam freely over every glorious inch of exposed skin, glad that even her fantasies had paled in comparison to the real thing. His skin was the same gold-dusted shade all over, his thighs tightly corded muscle. And there was no question how badly he wanted her.
She slid her skirt off, glad to finally be rid of it, but when she started to do the same with her black silk panties, Seth held up his hand. “Wait.” He shook his head, and she’d never felt so beautiful as she did when he looked at her. “I really like you in those, so just . . . wait.”
He knelt between her legs, kissing each knee, then pushed them apart and lowered himself over her.
“Oh,” she breathed when his hips pressed against her once, and then again, the hot length of his cock sliding against the silk and creating a delicious friction between them. Seth echoed her on a shuddering moan. Braced above her, his eyes closed, lips parted, he was the embodiment of all her wildest fantasies, lost in her just as she was lost in him. He continued to move, thrusting against her, varying the rhythm while Emma lifted her hips into him. The thin scrap of fabric between them was both barrier and enticement, facilitating the sweetest torment Emma could have imagined. Every tight circle, every long, hard thrust had her swelling tighter and tighter, pulsing against him. And he watched her; she knew he did. She could feel him taking in every whimper, every gasp—and she was too far under his spell to mind.
He took her to the precipice again, until she was shaking. When he moved away, Emma opened her eyes enough to watch him sit back on his knees and tear open the little package. When he was done, she looked at him and slowly, deliberately slipped the panties off, tossing them aside. Then she spread her legs wider, an invitation.
“Now,” she said.
Please, now.
Seth entered her in one swift thrust, burying himself so deeply that she clenched around him, crying out. He tensed and went still, though Emma could feel the tension pouring off him in waves. His voice was halting, choked.
“God. So tight, Emma. Need a minute.”
When he looked at her, his eyes full of the strain of clinging to control, she realized that it had been a while for both of them, not just her. And knowing that,
knowing this wasn’t something he was taking lightly, undid a hard knot of tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying deep in her chest. She didn’t want to be alone in the feelings that raced through her system like wildfire. She wanted this to matter to him—because he mattered to her.
He dropped his head to her shoulder, taking in deep breaths. She tried not to move, but her entire body now seemed to throb with the beat of her heart, so close to flying. Slowly, Seth withdrew, then sank into her again with a groan. Emma began to urge him on, sliding her hands down to his hips, letting him set the pace but asking, not so subtly, for more. His pace quickened, quickened until Seth was driving into her, shoulders tense, making the sexy little sounds in the back of his throat that pushed Emma right back to the edge.
She fisted one hand in the rug, while the other dug her nails into his hip. Emma lost all sense of anything but the two of them—all of her thought and feeling seemed to have narrowed down to a single, onrushing point of light. She arched, seeking release, and looked into Seth’s face as he strained to hold back, to let her find her pleasure first. He was, in the moment, the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Mine,
she thought, as something deep inside tightened painfully, then began to crumble and fall away. She didn’t have time to worry over it, though—not now—because of Seth’s shaken voice.
“Em. Now. Right now.”
He slammed into her hard, and she cried out his name as the world exploded into tiny fragments of light, leaving nothing but the sense that nothing existed but the two of them, clinging to each other in the heart of a perfect storm.
* * *
Seth wasn’t sure how long he lay there on his floor. It could have been hours, days even. The only thing he was sure of was the woman draped across his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, breathing deeply.
He’d dozed after sex, then was startled to awaken and find her still there. Apparently, some part of him had been convinced he’d invented the evening as an escape from the day’s misery. But no—Emma was very much present. And while he held her, trying to figure out exactly how they’d gone from dancing around each other to naked in the middle of his floor in the space of a few hours, she started to snore lightly. Seth looked down at the top of her head and laughed softly. She was unlike any woman he’d ever been with. And as he’d suspected, she looked amazing naked.
Whatever had shifted in the universe to allow his day to do a complete one-eighty, he was grateful for it.
Seth gently stroked her hair, long and silky. Emma didn’t wake up, though she snuggled in a bit deeper. He’d grabbed an old afghan from the closet in the immediate aftermath and thrown it over the two of them. It was plenty warm, though the floor had ceased to be particularly comfortable. Or at least, he was once again capable of noticing that the floor was kind of hard. His face was starting to throb again, too, another unpleasant reminder that he couldn’t stay in this nice little bubble forever. No matter how much he wanted to.
With a healthy amount of regret, he kissed her head and then gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Em. Emma. Emma? Earth to Emma?”
She didn’t stir. Yet another piece of information to file away about Emma Henry—the woman slept like the dead. Seth considered his options, then slowly eased out
from under her, settling her head gently on the pillow once he’d extracted himself. He pulled the covers over her, wondered whether he should try to put her on the couch, and then decided she looked cozy enough for now.
Seth hunted down his shorts, tossed carelessly in a corner, and pulled them on. Then he padded into the kitchen, his restlessness returning as his body woke up. The clock read midnight, which he noted as he got out the aspirin and poured a glass of water. He had to be at work at five, which meant that unless he managed to settle down again pretty soon, insomnia was going to win this round. He briefly considered taking Emma up to bed, curling himself around her, and allowing himself that much comfort. Maybe it would help him sleep. Maybe it would keep any nightmares, less frequent now but never completely gone, at bay.
Maybe he should chill the hell out before he decided to make Emma the centerpiece of a life he was finally starting to rebuild. His staying power was anything but a sure thing at this point, and she had enough to deal with, something that had become very clear to him tonight. So they’d just . . . take it slow. Enjoy where they were. Wasn’t that the point of being in the Cove in the first place? Remembering how to just live in the moment again? He’d been doing a pretty good job of it.
But then, the last time he’d talked to Dave, his old friend had been doing a pretty good job of it, too. Reconnecting, getting help, starting to live life again. And now he was gone. Seth knew he was lucky to have escaped having either the basic wiring or the experiences, or both, that might have made suicide seem like an option. He wanted desperately to stay alive, to keep living.