“Oh fuck! I can’t take any more. I need to be in you now!”
Before Emma could prepare herself Mike pulled her to her
feet. Together they worked at getting her panties off. Then he was lifting her
against the door. As she felt his cock part her pussy lips and slide inside her,
she wrapped her legs around him. A cry of pleasure echoed through the room. He
was buried to the hilt.
They began to move against each other like animals in heat.
No words were needed. Just two people lost in the moment. Both determined to
reach the same plateau in the shortest amount of time.
Mike pounded into Emma over and over again. Each time
forcing his cock further and deeper into her wet pussy. She gasped and cried
with the intense pleasure of being filled so completely with him. Of feeling
his balls slap against her.
Each time Mike’s shaft slid over her clit her pleasure
heightened and the onset of an orgasm grew stronger and closer. Emma knew a few
more thrusts and she wouldn’t be able to hold it back. And she didn’t want to.
“Damn you’re tight.” His voice was more like a low growl.
Emma didn’t have time to protest when he took his cock in
his hand, manipulated her clit with it a few times, and then thrust it back into
her pussy. She quivered wildly and cried out beneath his mouth, losing control.
“Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!” she chanted as her body shook with
her climax.
The low groans coming from Mike and the way he was grinding
his cock into her revealed he was coming, too.
They leaned quietly against each other until their bodies
calmed and they were breathing normally again. Emma slowly lowered her legs
when she felt Mike’s cock slip from her body.
“Damn.” His fist pounded the door above her head, rattling
the fragile old wood. “I didn’t mean for things to go this far.” He leaned his
forehead against hers. “I only wanted to kiss you,” he explained, then laughed
in spite of himself. “Hell, you make me forget where I am and what I’m doing.”
“Don’t blame this on me, Detective,” Emma whispered
breathlessly, a trembling smile playing upon her lips. “Is it the wig?”
“Pardon?” Mike pulled back to search her eyes for the answer,
his still dilated with desire.
The knowledge that she’d been the one to put that desire
there made Emma heady with power.
“The blonde wig,” she repeated. “Is that what made you lose
control? Some men can’t resist a blonde,” she said with humor.
His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “Hell no. I wish it
was that simple.”
“Why does it have to be so hard?”
“Emma…”
“I’m serious, Mike. What are we going to do about this? It’s
obvious we’re attracted to each other.”
He started to shake his head. “Emma…”
“Shake your head all you want, it won’t change the truth.
Why else are we here plastered against this door with the rest of the world on
the other side?” Her eyes followed him when he distanced himself from her. “Why
else have we found ourselves in this situation? Is it just about sex?”
She watched as he ran his hands through his hair, his
expression changing with his varying emotions. It was plain as the nose on his
face that Mike didn’t know what to say or do.
Muffled voices in the hallway reminded her they were in
someone’s dressing room and would soon have company. They were lucky no one had
interrupted them earlier. She straightened her clothes, and went to the mirror
over the vanity to inspect the damage to her makeup and hair.
Groaning, she felt her cheeks blush with guilt. She looked
like a woman who’d just grabbed a quickie in a back restroom somewhere. She met
Mike’s eyes in the mirror. He looked disheveled too, his skin still showing the
signs of the heated lovemaking between them. Her fingers had definitely mussed
up his hair, which he was suddenly running his fingers through for a second
time.
“Melissa will be looking for me. I’ll leave first; maybe no
one will notice.”
It was apparent he was going to leave the questions between
them unanswered. Maybe he needed time to think.
“Mike?” He turned to glance back at her before opening the
door. “What time Saturday?”
A frown appeared between his brows. “Saturday?”
He’d already forgotten, or, maybe he’d chosen to. “Fishing?”
“Oh, ah, we like to be out on the lake early when the fish
are biting. Can you be ready around six?”
“I’ll be waiting at the dock,” she replied, wondering what
she was getting herself into. Until she remembered Melissa would be there. How
much trouble could they get into with a thirteen-year-old chaperone?
Chapter 14
Nursing a beer, Mike was sitting on his back porch in the
dark, staring out at the glistening water of the nearby pond and listening to
the chorus of crickets and frogs. The kitchen window was open above his head and
he could hear Melissa humming while she finished up the supper dishes.
His thoughts drifted from topic to topic but always seemed
to come right back to one in particular, Emma Stuart, which then caused him to
take another sip of his beer. He vaguely wondered how many beers it would take
to make him forget about her.
Forget about how wildly responsive she was. How she wasn’t
afraid to show him her passionate side. Even when he knew her slightly reserved
nature contradicted itself when she was turned on.
He took a deep breath, not for the first time asking himself
why he was fighting his attraction to her so vehemently. Mike sensed the
emotional side of a relationship with Emma would far outweigh the physical. Sex
he could get from any woman. Only deep down he knew that wasn’t all he was
getting from her.
And he was running scared. He couldn’t recall a time when another
woman had affected him so strongly, making him think about something other than
a good romp in the sack and maybe a decent dinner. That he could handle.
Emma made him think about forever after. For the first time
in his life that he could remember, he wanted, needed, love. Just a sexual
relationship with her was out of the question. Even though the sex between them
was mind-blowing.
She made him yearn for cozy nights in front of the
fireplace, or cuddling wrapped up in a quilt on a cold night as they rocked in
the old swing at the end of the porch. Someone to kiss goodbye to in the mornings
and hello to at the end of a workday.
Hell, Mike figured he was losing it. Maybe some day he could
have those things again, on a permanent level, when he had time to devote to
it. Now wasn’t a good time to be thinking about what he wanted. He grinned,
hearing Melissa singing out of tune, and the next thing he knew she was opening
the screen door.
“We’re still going fishing in the morning aren’t we, Dad?”
“Yep.” Mike was glad it was dark and she couldn’t see his
frown. Tomorrow he’d see the root of all his troubles again, in the flesh. He
hadn’t seen Emma since the night of the play and that had almost been a week
ago. He’d purposely avoided the gym, getting his workouts with a good run
around the lake in the evenings before dinner.
Now, like a sex-craved adolescent, he couldn’t wait to see
her again. Just the thought of her produced a tightening in his body. Bringing
the can of beer to his mouth he angrily swallowed half the contents.
The smile in Melissa’s voice was unmistakable.
“Good. I don’t know Emma except for what Amanda’s told me
but she sounds cool. Do you want another beer before I go to my room?”
Did she sound a little too happy? “It’s kind of early to be
going to bed, isn’t it, kiddo?”
“I’m not going to bed.” She laughed, in a voice that clearly
said he’d lost his marbles for even thinking it. “I have an essay on Theodore
Roosevelt due this Wednesday and want to get started on it.”
“Get started? How long have you known about it?” She
hesitated, which told Mike long enough. “Never mind, just make sure you get it
done.”
“I will.”
The door closed quietly behind her and Mike found himself
alone again. He finished his beer, and tried to focus on a case he was working
on, giving up after awhile. He might as well face it; he wasn’t going to get
Emma out of his mind. Not as long as he was sitting there hard as stone.
* * *
*
Emma waved when she saw Mike’s boat approaching in the
distance, but her smile quickly vanished when he came close enough for her to
see he was alone. She’d been looking forward to fishing with them all week,
mostly because she’d get to see him again. Second because she’d have a chance
to get to know Melissa a little better. From what Amanda told her, she was a
sweet girl who was at the age when she needed a mother’s influence more than a
father’s.
As the boat neared the dock she crossed her arms, giving
Mike a stern look. “Where’s our chaperone?”
His mouth twitched, his eyes moving over her like a hungry
shark that hadn’t eaten in a week. She was dressed for cool weather in jeans
and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that was rapidly coming
undone. There was nothing at all sexy about the way she looked, yet Mike’s eyes
told another story.
Her cheeks filled with a pleasant heat, recalling their last
steamy encounter the night of the play, which she’d lived over and over in her dreams,
day and night.
“Do we need a chaperone?” He reached for the dock,
effortlessly pulling the boat closer so she could easily step down safely.
“I think one of us does,” she joked, bending to pick up the
picnic basket she’d prepared and handing it to him.
Their hands brushed. “Are you worried?” His amused gaze held
hers for a few seconds.
If anything Mike looked worried. Emma decided the best thing
she could do was to change the subject. “What happened to Melissa?”
He took the things she handed him, and put them in the
bottom of the boat behind his seat.
“An essay on Roosevelt happened,” he explained, taking her
hand and pulling her in with him. “She thought she had until Wednesday but
checked her notes this morning to discover it’s due Monday instead. Now she’s
in a panic to get it done.”
He didn’t sound as if he believed her and Emma had to wonder
about it herself. The boat rocked slightly with her added weight and she
automatically braced her hands on Mike’s shoulders. For a moment they moved
against each other. She struggled not to give in to the sexual pull being close
to him created. Beneath her palms his body felt hard and strong and she could
feel the heat of him through his clothes.
She smiled, and slipped her hands from his shoulders taking
a step back. “I have to warn you before we take off, I’m not very good at
fishing.”
“What part aren’t you good at?”
Was his voice a little ragged? Emma liked to think she had
that affect on him. It was the least she could do, considering he managed to
reduce her bones into silly putty every time he touched her or got too close.
“Putting the bait on the hook part,” she managed to respond.
“Especially if it’s a worm.” To get her point across she shuddered delicately.
Mike’s lips twitched slightly. “I guess I can live with
that.”
“The casting and reeling in part too,” she continued in a
sassy tone. “And if I’m lucky enough to catch anything, taking it off the hook
might be a problem.” She shivered and made a face. “All that wiggling and fish
are slimy. But other than that, I’m a pro.”
Mike crossed his arms, raising a brow at the same time, an
amused smile breaking through and turning that sexy mouth of his into something
Emma became hungry to taste. She swallowed with difficulty.
“Maybe I should have just asked what you’re good at.”
He had no business looking so hunky this early in the
morning, filling out a pair of old, faded jeans as though he’d been poured into
them. Emma recognized the tee shirt he was wearing beneath his open jacket as
the one she’d ripped at the ball game. He hadn’t even made an attempt to mend
it.
Before she realized what she was doing, her hand came up to
finger the torn material, recalling the scratches that had lined his chest that
day. “I’m good at a lot of things, Detective.”
Surely he knows I want him by now.
“Oh?”
She peered at him from beneath the sweep of her lashes. “But
if you’re talking about fishing, I’m only good at cooking them, especially the
ones without heads and tails.”
Mike threw back his head and let out a throaty laugh, the
noise scaring the birds in the nearby trees into flight. “Come on.” He directed
her to the opposite seat from him and forced her down. “Let’s go before I say
to hell with fishing and take you inside.”
And do what?
His comment held her momentarily speechless. She enjoyed the
playful banter between them, but there was no denying the smoldering awareness
of each other that was simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to emerge
and consume them if they let it.
She watched the muscles flex in Mike’s arms as he started
the outboard motor, trying not to let her mind wander back to the night after
the play.
“Once Melissa backed out, I’m surprised you showed up at
all, considering,” Emma remarked, holding onto the sides of the boat as it
rocked against the waves.
His eyes caught and held hers. “Considering what?”
She shrugged. “You’ve made your feelings pretty obvious
about…” She hesitated, unsure of herself. “Well, wanting to be alone with me.”
Mike tore his gaze away and looked out into the distance, a
muscle twitching in his suddenly taut jaw.
“It’s obvious when we’re alone, I can’t keep my hands off
you.”
“You think you hold a monopoly on those feelings?”
When it became apparent he was going to ignore her comment,
Emma riveted her gaze on the shoreline to watch the scenery fly by. She
couldn’t help noticing how fast they were building along the lakeside. Houses
were going up at an alarming rate, a lot of them vacation homes. She was glad
to see the builders were doing their best to avoid altering the landscape any
more than they had to. Not cutting down the mature trees offered the homeowner
privacy from their neighbors.