The Real Thing (32 page)

Our palms are moist as I squeeze her fingers, then I press a kiss to her shoulder, dragging my lips to the dip in her neck. Her breath catches, and I feel her tense up next to me. I give her hand another squeeze before leaning up to hover over her body. Her shirt is still damp as I push it up over her belly button.

“Wait …,” she says, and I stop dead. She twists underneath my hands, stretching up toward the lamp on my nightstand. When she clicks it on, I blink a few times to adjust to the light, and then meet her wide eyes.

“I want to see you,” she says, gorgeous blush filling her neck. The corner of my lip turns up, and I bend down to kiss the freckles along her cheeks. Her hands wrap around my shoulders, but other than that, she doesn’t move anymore. She lets me take the lead, and my nerves chill the hell out, but I’m still anxious.

I’m anxious to get this shirt off. These pants down. That bra open. This woman under me. On top of me. Wrapped around me.

This anxiety I can handle.

I nip at her shoulder and push her shirt up. “You’re still wet.”
Shit
. “I mean your shirt is wet.” I tug at it. “I mean, you could be wet, too, but … ah hell.”

Em presses her lips together and stifles a giggle, and I push my face into the pillow.

“Damn, I was trying to say something sexy there, and it came out wrong.”

“I think it came out just right.” She laughs, drawing my face toward hers again.

“I meant to say I want your shirt off.” I shake my forehead against hers. “As soon as I get my foot out of my mouth, I’ll start kissing you again.”

“I think it’s sexy.”

“Well, then. You’re wet.” I jam my hands under the fabric of her shirt. Her eyes widen and a sharp gasp flies from her lips. “So this needs to come off.”

I test her reaction, keeping steady under her shirt. The perfect circles of her eyes have me a little worried, but another gorgeous wave of red flushes come up her neck and she lifts her arms over her head.

I take in each inch of her skin as it’s exposed. She’s so beautifully freckled, so beautifully pale. As soon as she’s completely free from the fabric, I drop it to the floor, sit back, and trace my fingers over her skin. Her stomach tightens when I tickle her belly button. Her breasts bounce under a polka-dotted bra as she shivers each time I stroke her. I gulp and bend my head, kiss the top of her chest, feel her racing heart under my lips.

“I think you’re wet, too,” she says breathlessly, pulling at the buttons on my shirt. I brace myself against the mattress, holding my weight above her body and pinching my eyes shut as she pushes each button through its hole. I’m not breathing, and that’s not good, I
know
it’s not good, but I don’t care. There’s nothing in this room but Emmy. Nothing in my
head
but her. So whether I have air to breathe or not, I know she’ll be the one to guide me through it.

“Eric?”

“I’m okay,” I say, but my eyes won’t open.

“No, not that …” Her nails graze the skin of my abdomen. “I mean, I’m glad you’re okay, I was just going to say that … well, you are freaking hot as hell and I’m not sure how much slower I can go because I’m pretty sure I’m about to rip all these clothes off you.”

I laugh, opening my eyes, and my arms wobble. Her hot skin collides with mine, and I’m thrusting against her without even thinking about it. She moans my name, and I pull her up with me to a sitting position, kissing her fiercely on the mouth, on her neck, behind her ear, over her breasts. I’m biting again because I want so badly to taste her, and I can’t get close enough. She’s gripping the back of my head, pulling me against her, rubbing herself against me, and I’m done with those damn shorts she’s got on, and I want out of my pants. We’re a fumbling mess as we try to keep our lips on each other as we tug at our clothes. Her bra is off and her breasts are in my mouth, in my hands, pressed against my chest. Her hands are in my hair, gripping my shoulders, grabbing my ass, and stroking
me
. I feel like I can’t breathe, but I
am
breathing. My breath is blowing against her hair, it’s creating goose bumps up and down her flesh, it’s hot on my lips as they press against her skin. Everywhere. I’m breathing everywhere, yet I’m drowning, but I don’t want to come up for oxygen.

I don’t know how we end up the way we do, but I’m yanking her legs toward me. I slide down her body, kiss and bite and lick every avenue of her skin and revel in her moans.
Damn, her moans.
They’re killing me in this water we’re drowning in. I rasp, “I love you,” in her ear, and I keep saying it. She’s saying it back. She’s telling me how damn hot I am, and I can’t stop calling her beautiful, gorgeous, and she feels …

So.

Damn.

Good.

And I can’t focus anymore. I pause, holding myself up over her, pressing against her inner thigh, and I feel a drop of sweat drip down my temple and I gulp for air.

Em’s chest rises and falls, bumping against mine, making my mind check out even more. She wipes the sweat from my brow, eyes hooded and dark—a look of pure pleasure that has me so damn proud that I put it there. I lean in with a light smile and peck her swollen lips.

“Emmy?”

“Yes?” she asks, voice cracking. She thinks I’m stopping, and I smile wider so she knows I’m okay.

“Be gentle with me.”

Her body relaxes and she lets out a giant snort. Then she smacks her hands over her face while bolts of laughter rush through me.

“That was hot,” I say, kissing her knuckles over her eyes. She drops a hand to tap me across the face.

“Just for that, you’re not getting gentle at all.”

I raise an eyebrow and she reaches down and digs her nails into my ass. She thrusts up, and I’m in her, and my brain has jumped ship. I lose my teasing smile and fall face-first into the pillow by her head.

There’s no chance in hell of “gentle” anymore.

Emilia Johnson is offline

“Wow,” Eric grunts, and he slides off me, but instead of landing on the mattress, he falls ass-first to the floor.

I’m too weak to do anything but utter an out-of-breath, “Are you okay?” as I stare at the ceiling and wait for my vision to return to normal. He grunts something, but my ears are buzzing. My body is slick with sweat, breasts sensitive to the cool air that’s suddenly where Eric just was, heart throbbing so hard I feel it in my toes.

That was …

“Wow,” I manage to echo. I want to be close to him again, but I can’t move. My limbs are jelly. My brain is goop. My eyes are wet. My lips are swollen. My legs are sore. My heart is a giant balloon.

We lie in silence, except for our rapid breathing. After a few minutes, Eric lifts his head and looks down at himself.

“I’m a mess.”

A laugh rumbles through my throat.

“Me too.”

“Shower?”

“Hmm …” Yes, but I can’t move yet. My legs don’t seem to know how to function. I roll off the mattress, letting out a tiny yelp as I land with a thump. Eric pulls me straight into his arms, and I reach with my toes for the towel we dropped earlier.

“Shower in a minute,” I say and clean him off while he tries to help me, but we end up a tangle of limbs so I shove him back down to the carpet. “I want to lay here with you.”

“Mmm-kay.”

He’s sticky and warm, and my hair keeps getting caught under his arm, but I don’t care. I’ve never felt so loved or cared for, and I’ve never felt so high or satisfied, either. Just glue me here forever. Seriously, I will stay right here, feeling this way for the rest of my freaking life.

I run my finger down the line in his chest, press my ear against him, and smile when his arm flops around my shoulder.

“I can’t tell if I hear your heart beating, or if it’s mine,” I say against his skin. His fingers glide over my shoulder, then trail down to my elbow.

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

I smile and bury my face in his side, squeezing as hard as my jelly limbs allow. He squeezes back, nudging my chin up to plant sweet kisses on my lips.

“Hey,” I say, interrupting him, so he moves to my jaw. “Where is my froggy?”

His breath cools my overheated skin as he chuckles into my neck. “Oh, well, I uh …”

I deflate next to him and frown. “You threw it in the ocean, didn’t you?”

“What? No.” He turns on his side, letting me use his arm as a pillow. “I sort of kept it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I’ll give it back if you insist.”

“And what were you going to tell Tolani when he saw it in his shower?”

“I’d have my own bathroom.” He reaches down and playfully pinches my hip. “And I wasn’t going to use it.”

“Then why keep it?”

His eyes narrow and he plants a kiss to my nose. “You’re fishing.”

“Yep.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth.”

He groans, rolling back. I press my very naked body against his very naked body and widen my eyes, waiting for his answer.

“That damn look,” he says, pulling me on top of him and grabbing my ass. I temporarily forget what we were talking about. “I kept it because I’m in love with you, and there’s a lot of good stuff that happened in the presence of that creepy thing, and I didn’t want to give it back.” He cocks his head at me and smiles. “Satisfied?”

“Very much so.” I bend down and press my lips to his, opening my mouth and sliding my tongue over his, and I know he’s probably wiped out from what we just did, but I want him again.

Over and over again.

“Shower time now?” he breathes, and I nod, nip at his bottom lip, and don’t stop kissing him as we fumble our way to the bathroom.

We only stop to grab the sponge from his duffel bag.

The sunlight peeks through the curtains at just the right angle to hit me square in the face. I moan, turn onto my other side, and flop my arm across the very empty bed.

I smell food.

After a good stretch, I slide from the sheets to the soft carpet, tiptoeing to Eric’s dresser … which is empty. Oh right, he packed everything. I cluck my tongue and search the floor for my clothes, but I really want to wear Eric’s shirt, so once I find it stuffed under the pillows, I slip my arms in the sleeves and button it up to just above my boobs. I flip my hair out, just now realizing that Eric probably lost my hair tie in the water last night when he ripped it from my head. I will have to wear my hair up soon just so he can do that to me again.

Eric’s in the kitchen, humming under his breath. My eyes widen as I watch him scramble eggs in the pan.

He’s stark naked.

“I see someone’s overcome their insecurity about their sexy-as-hell body.” I laugh, and Eric smiles over his shoulder, then he does a double take, letting his gaze linger on my chest.

“I had a witty comeback to that, but it flew from my brain,” he says, turning around with the pan of eggs. He dishes out a serving for both of us, gets me water, and kisses my forehead. “And sorry, this was all that was left in the house. I tried to do it omelet style, but it ended up scrambled.”

“Don’t apologize for making me breakfast.” I stab my fork in, not caring how the hell it looks or tastes. I’m famished. “I just hope you didn’t burn anything important while you were working over there.”

He looks down and examines himself, and I can’t stop laughing as he turns around to check out his own ass.

“I think I’m good.”

“You’re definitely that.”

He rolls his eyes at me, then something buzzes from the side table in the living room. I ignore it, but he wraps his arms around my waist, shoving my plate a little to the side.

“You can answer that,” he says, and I open my mouth, but he puts a hand over it. “I don’t mind. I don’t mind that you talk to people, that you read, or that you like to post pictures and laugh at links or leave reviews on the books you love. I just want you to share it with me. Don’t hide anything, otherwise it makes me think there’s something to hide.”

“Eric—”

“I’m sorry for overreacting.”

“You didn’t—”

“It’s just, when I saw that guy on your page … then that email …”

“That’s done, Eric. I told him I wasn’t talking to him anymore. I unfriended him, and he hasn’t emailed, and if he does I’ll delete it.”

He purses his lips and nods, staring at the top button on the shirt I’m wearing. “Can we just … I want to compromise so we’re both happy.”

“I am happy.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t ever look at your phone. Or read a book. Or answer a text message or get online to do whatever.”

I smile and pull his face down to peck his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He tugs on the end of my hair, grazing my breast with just the slightest touch, setting me on fire. “So go answer your phone.”

“Eric—”

“I’m serious, I don’t mind.” He starts pushing me, and I walk backward into the living room.

“Eric!” I laugh, grasping his forearms. He stops pushing, and I snake my hands around his neck, standing on my toes to get my face close to his. “That’s not my phone.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“I think that’s
your
phone. Mine’s in the car.”

“Oh … oh!” He actually smacks his forehead. “Now I feel like a dick.”

“Don’t. I’m glad you said all that.” I pull his hand down, touch his face, his neck, his chest, and smile because he’s here. Physically here, and that’s not going to change. I snuggle into him, listen to his heart in my ear, feel it thunder and race and love how he’s holding me, completely bare, with no secrets and no … clothes.

“I do want to get online today,” I say, and he doesn’t tense. His heart still beats its same beautiful pattern. “Because I’m pretty sure we need to look for apartments.”

“I’ll pull out my computer right now,” he tells me, loosening his hold, but I grip him tighter.

“Not now.”

“After breakfast?”

I shake my head, running my hands down his back. “After dessert.”

Then I tug him to the bedroom.

Emilia Johnson and Eric Matua are engaged

4 hours ago

That’s right ladies! He’s all mine!