Naked Choke (11 page)

Gray stood, slipped his hands in his pockets. Once he saw me, Marco’s uncle got to his feet as well. Marco, too, only after a gentle nudge on the head.

“Hi, Miss Emory!” Marco’s youthful exuberance had him knocking the men out of the way and jumping down three steps to give me a hug. The other men held back, clearly having learned about boundaries unlike the boy, although I wouldn’t have minded if Gray grabbed me so eagerly. Over Marco’s head, I glanced up at him. His eyes gave away nothing about his feelings, but I hoped to discover them once we were alone.

I looked down at Marco’s upturned face. “Hello. Have you been busy?” It was impossible not to smile at him.

His hair was mussed and his cheeks were flushed. He wore shorts, T-shirt and sneakers once again. After spending the day in a well air-conditioned hospital, the air was hot and muggy. Already after seven, the temperature hadn’t dropped out of the eighties.

“I’m Frank, Marco’s uncle.”

The man came down the two steps at a much more sedate pace than his nephew and held out his hand, smiling. About six foot, he had the same black, curly hair as Marco, yet his eyes were a pale blue. The contrast was quite striking with his olive complexion. Standing next to Gray, he was lanky, long legged, yet fit. He had the perfect build for a rower. I put him in his late twenties and with his wicked smile, I could only imagine he had to fight off the ladies.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I replied. His grip was firm, his eyes were kind. He did not have an accent like his father, so I had to assume he was born here.

“We have your lights replaced and your dinner is in that bag.” He pointed to a large brown grocery sack sitting by the front door. “While my father couldn’t be here, he asked me to give you his contact information. If you need anything at all, please call.”

I glanced down at the business card he handed me. It was for Casale’s Restaurant. I flipped it over and there were several phone numbers handwritten on the back.

“Thank you. You and your father have been very kind.” I turned to Gray and my heart melted a little. “Hi,” I murmured.

Gray gestured hello with a quick tilt of his chin, the corner of his mouth tipping up. He wore worn jeans and a white T-shirt that hugged his torso snugly, showing off his lean muscles. A bodybuilder he was not, but there was no doubt to his strength. The fact that his biceps bulged was completely inconsequential.

“I see you’ve met,” I told Gray, nodding to Frank.

“Yes” he replied. “Frank and Marco were just putting the new bulbs in when I got here.” His eyes narrowed when he finished, almost as if he were angry.

I didn’t know him well enough to understand the expression, so I looked to Frank and redirected the conversation. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

It was only courtesy that had me offering. I really wanted to get Gray to myself. I’d been anticipating it ever since his text earlier. To say it made a crazy afternoon in the ER a little better was an understatement. The way my heart had skipped a beat every time I thought about him in my house had me questioning whether I should be hooked up to the heart monitors.

Frank looked between Gray and me. Grinned. He playfully grabbed Marco by the neck and pulled him into his side. “The meal is for you. With my father’s thanks. With
my
thanks,” he said, his intent clear. “Gray, it was a pleasure meeting you.” By the look on Frank’s face, he knew who Gray was. “Say goodbye, Marco.”

“Bye, Mr. Green Machine, Miss Emory,” Marco said with a little wave. They walked away, Marco’s little legs pumping to keep up with his uncle’s long gait. A car passed on the street and a siren wailed in the distance. The sun had dropped behind the row of houses across the street and the air was heavy from the heat. And I was alone with Gray.

Once the duo rounded the corner, I turned to face Gray, who’d been watching me. “Mr. Green Machine? I really am the only person who doesn’t know who you are, aren’t I?”

He shrugged. “One of the few.” When I frowned, Gray ducked his head so he could look me in the eye. “They don’t really know me, Emory.”

GRAY

I watched as Emory dropped her work shoes in an old milk box that sat on the porch, then unlocked her door. I followed her inside, holding the food bag. By the weight of it and what Frank had said, there was plenty.

The row house was narrow, about twenty feet across. The living room had comfortable furniture, well worn and lived in, plants, framed artwork on the walls, family pictures on side tables. It was…lived in, unlike my place, which seemed cold in comparison. I remembered her mentioning this was where she grew up, so the place had been in her family a long time. It suited her well, for it felt…comfortable. This was a home. It only reminded me of the differences between us.

She glanced at me with those expressive eyes and now they held a hint of nervousness. “I always take a shower right after work and get out of these scrubs.” She tugged at the bottom of her top as she scrunched up her nose. “You don’t want to know what kinds of things I saw today.”

“Yes, I do,” I countered in a quiet voice. I really did. I wanted to know what she saw, who she interacted with, the kinds of cases she had, the problems she had to deal with. I wanted to know it all.

She looked surprised. “Oh, um, okay. I’ll be down in a few minutes. The kitchen’s straight back.” She pointed, then went up the steps. “Ignore my breakfast dishes in the sink,” she called as she went upstairs.

I took a few seconds to admire her ass beneath her blue scrub pants before I headed toward the back of the house. It was getting harder and harder to keep my hands off her.

The kitchen hadn’t been updated in twenty years, the fridge covered in photographs and coupons were clipped to a magnet. A phone with a long cord, like one from when I was a kid, hung on the wall by the back door. The air conditioning was on and besides the sound of the water running upstairs, I could hear the air blowing from the vents in the floor. Placing the bag on the counter, I removed the food containers and found dishes and silverware from various drawers and cabinets.

My cell beeped indicating a text. I pulled it from my pocket. My dad. “
Shit,
” I muttered.

She must be one hot piece of tail.

His text had me seeing red. I shoved the phone back in my pocket and paced the small space, rubbed the hand over the back of my neck. Fuck. He was watching me. Turning, I placed my hands on the counter and thought. He knew about Emory, knew where she lived. That meant he was having me watched.
Why?
 

To irritate the fuck out of me, to piss me off, to sour the only thing in my life that wasn’t tainted by him. Hearing the water shut off, I knew I had to pull myself together, not let my fuck-up father mess with this date with Emory. By the time I found glasses and filled them with iced tea I found in the fridge, I’d settled.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, pausing in the doorway. She could tell something was wrong. I couldn’t seem to hide it from her.

I realized my shoulders were tense and I sighed, forcing my body to relax. Just looking at her helped with that. She was all shower fresh and soft and…God, I had it bad. How did this woman, whose hair was wet and long over her shoulders, face makeup free, wearing a Ravens tank top and cut-off jean shorts make my heart lurch? Her legs were long and lean and her feet were bare, hot pink nail polish on her toes. She was the girl next door and she should steer clear of a guy like me—a guy with a past and a father who was an asshole. She had a kid and parents and a house that was a
home
.
What the hell was I doing with her?

I swore under my breath and leaned a hip against the counter. “Nothing, just a stupid text from my dad.”

She looked at me the way she probably did her son when he kept important things secret—like hiding cigarettes in his room or when he was an hour after curfew. “Are you going to tell me about him sometime?”

I eyed her, seeing her right now for what she was, a calming influence. Just having her come into the room, seeing her questioning look had me realizing what was important, and it wasn’t my dad. My dad wanted to ruin this moment, this impromptu date and that was
not
going to happen. I took a deep breath, let it out, let it all go. For some reason, in this moment, it was easy to do.

Her eyes widened. “What?” she asked.

I just gave a little shake of my head. Now wasn’t the time to talk about stupid shit. “I hope you’re hungry. It seems the Casale boys are smitten.”

“Marco got scraped up and I helped him. That’s all.” She went over to one of the foil to-go containers and pried off the lid. “Mmm, chicken piccata.” She glanced up at me. “What?” she asked again.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the broken lights?” I asked, realizing I was mad at her for not telling me about it, although that was somewhat ridiculous since we barely knew each other.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s just kids and I didn’t think it was important.”

I frowned. I didn’t like the idea of anyone fucking with Emory, even if it was just kids. “Clearly Mr. Casale thought it was important enough to send over his son to fix it.”

“I assume they told you why they brought food and were fixing my lights?”

“Yeah.”

She took the lid off another container. Eggplant parmesan. “He was just being courteous.”

Perhaps, but I’d heard of the Casale’s and they did more in Baltimore than just cook food. While they weren’t technically part of the mafia, they were certainly connected. From what Frank told me before Emory got home, his father was shrewd enough to offer protection where needed. While I was reassured to know she fell under the man’s sights, I wasn’t excited about the fact the old man thought she needed it.

“Did they knock out anyone else’s lights?”

She frowned, but when she did it, a cute little V formed at her brow. “I don’t think so.”

Why would someone just screw with her? “Do you have lights in back?”

She took off the lid of a third container, spaghetti and meatballs. “Yes, motion sensors.”

“Did they knock those out as well?”

That gave her pause and she looked to me. “I don’t know. I never go out the back because there’s no parking.” She went over to the back door, undid the deadbolt and opened it. She looked up and to the right where I assumed was an outdoor light, but I was looking down in front of her.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her back, not wanting her to step out onto her stoop in her bare feet. “Careful.” I indicated with my chin the broken bulb on the steps.

She sighed wearily as she looked down at the shards of glass, closed and flipped the deadbolt back into place. Turning, she leaned back against the door as if she was too worn out to keep herself up. Perhaps she was. She had no one to help her around the house anymore, even if it was just a teenager doing chores. A broken lightbulb wasn’t a difficult task to clean up, but she didn’t need to deal with some punk kid’s pranks. “I’ll deal with it on Thursday when I’m off.”

No, she wouldn’t. I’d see it done, but I knew she’d bicker, so I said nothing more about it. “I think Marco has a crush on you.”

She grinned and I loved seeing her smile. “Yes, well, he’s going to have to stand in line.”

I took a step closer and put the Casales and broken lightbulbs out of my mind. “Oh, why’s that?”

She licked her lips and damned if I didn’t almost come in my pants. My eyes dropped to her mouth and wondered what she tasted like. “There’s this other guy,” she whispered, and her eyes lowered as well.

“Oh?” I had to touch her, so I ran a finger down the length of her bare arm and felt goose bumps rise. My breathing became uneven, the ache and need to taste her was so strong. “What about him?”

“He said—he said I would know when I wanted to kiss him.”

“And?” I leaned in closer.

“He also said I wouldn’t be nervous.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

I arched a brow. What would I do if she didn’t want to kiss me? I’d back away, but it would be one of the hardest fucking things I’d ever had to do. I also worried that once I had a taste of her I wouldn’t be able to let her go. “Are you?”

“Nervous? Hell, yes.” Her gaze lifted to mine. Held. “But I want to kiss you anyway.”

She wrapped her hand around the back of my neck and pulled me in so our lips collided. This wasn’t a sweet brush of lips. This was
more
. Tugging me closer, she obviously wanted more, but the little sound she made had me taking control.

Her mouth was soft and pliant and just absolutely fucking perfect. Tilting my head, I nibbled at her lower lip, licking and sucking at the plump swell, then on a gasp, I took the kiss deeper. Tasted her. Turning, I moved us both so that she bumped into the counter. Without breaking contact with her lips, I grabbed her trim waist and lifted her up easily, placing her on the counter alongside the take-out containers. She widened her knees and I stepped between them so we were close enough where we were chest to chest and my cock nestled perfectly at the apex of her thighs. I took my hands off her waist and placed them on the cold counter on either side of her, only our mouths touching.

She tasted of toothpaste; she must have brushed her teeth when she’d showered. The familiar scent of coconut filled my senses. I began to kiss and nibble along her jaw and up to her ear. “You smell so fucking good.”

“Shampoo,” she breathed. Her head angled to the side and I took the opportunity to kiss and nibble down the long line of her neck.

“Emory,” I murmured as I shifted to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“Hmm?”

“Are you nervous now?”

I pulled back so I could look at her, our noses almost bumping. She was breathing as hard as I, her lips red and glistening. Her eyes were unfocused and her cheeks were flushed. “Am I…?”

I tilted her chin up with my thumb. “Nervous?”

She shook her head, the long, drying curls of her hair beginning to frame her face. “No.”

“Good.” With only a small amount of fabric separating the important parts, it would be easy to strip down and have her right here on the counter. But now wasn’t the time. My cock didn’t agree, but for the moment, it wasn’t in charge. Emory was more than a quick fuck.