Instant Gratification
Page 54
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“I know.”
“You—I—” She broke off, closing her eyes to better absorb it all. “Again. I’m going to again.”
Apparently the words were all he’d needed. His mouth skimmed her jaw as he tightened his grip on her, pressing his face in the crook of her neck with a low, unintelligible groan as he stiffened, giving himself up to her. He took her with him, and she surrendered everything, every bit of her, heart and soul right there in the closet.
They stayed like that for long moments, him cradling her against him, her muscles still spasming around him, until finally he stirred, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “You okay?”
“Yes.” She let go of him, but his arms tightened on her as he lightly ran his mouth along her throat. “Mmm. You always smell good.”
That was nice, this was all incredibly nice, and it was almost too much for her. If she stayed like this with him, she’d start thinking, and thinking about this, about him, could only lead to hurt. Not wanting that, not wanting to do or say anything to that dark, deep look in his eyes, the one sending warning signals to her still out-to-lunch brain, she stirred.
“Don’t move,” he protested huskily. “Not yet.”
She had to. Had. To. “I have a hanger poking me in the back and my bare ass is against the wall. It’s time to move.”
“In a sec.” His mouth lazily skimmed over her shoulder, making his way toward a nipple that, unbelievably, hardened for him.
Even more unbelievably, her eyes rolled in the back of her head, and of its own accord, her body arched, giving him the access he needed. Even her face lifted, rising up for another kiss.
Good God. Someone send her a raft, she was going down…
Stone was melting in pleasure. Emma’s tongue was warm and sweet, and danced to his, and he was still buried deep inside her. He was loving all of it, until suddenly she put her hand on his chest and started to disentangle herself. He tried to hold onto her but she gave him the look, the one that said back off, and with a sigh, he let her go.
She immediately turned from him, which gave him a fantastic view of her world-class ass as she began looking for her clothing. “This,” she muttered, “is becoming ridiculous. I have got to start taking my clothes off in a more civilized nature.”
“Civilized?”
“Yes.” She shook out her wrinkled, wet blouse. “And hanging things up would be good too.”
“You think you should be able to stop and hang up each piece of clothing as it comes off.” He nodded even though he thought it was the stupidest idea he’d ever heard.
“It would be helpful.”
He laughed at her, at himself, then bent with her when she went for her pants. He put his hands on her arms and kissed her, kissed her long and deep and wet, and when he pulled back, they were both breathing hard again. It would have been pretty damn ego-boosting at how fast he could get her all worked up except she didn’t want to be worked up to begin with. “Tell me how the hell we’re supposed to do that,” he demanded softly, “and think rationally at the same time.”
She blinked, as if surprised at the question. “Well, I’ve never actually had this particular problem before. I’ve always been able to maintain some composure.”
He stared at her, then shook his head. “Who have you been sleeping with? Robots?”
Not the right thing to ask, given the way her eyes cooled. She turned away from him. “Not robots, no.”
He stared at her stiff, proud shoulders and sighed. She hadn’t given herself to anyone else in a long time, and when she had, it’d been Spencer, who while an excellent friend, apparently hadn’t inspired any wild passion. Before that, maybe another doctor, someone fancy and important, maybe someone on a schedule similar to hers. They’d probably booked their sex on their Blackberries, maybe even had their assistants book it, all “civilized.” “Emma.”
She didn’t look at him as she pulled on the dry sweats and hung up her wet things, so he put on his wet clothes with a wince. There was nothing worse than putting on wet clothes after very satisfying sex, except for maybe putting on wet clothes after not having very satisfying sex. “Emma.”
Nothing.
He turned her to face him. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes unhappy, and his stomach clenched as he tried to pull her in.
“Okay, whoa.” She pointed at him. “No more of that.”
“The hugging?”
“The looking at me like I mean something to you. The soft, sexy voice that makes it so I can’t think. The touching. The kissing. The…rest. Most definitely the rest.” She exited the closet, heading to the reception area, where she pulled open the door for him, setting off the ceramic cowbells.
It’d stopped raining, but water still dripped off the eaves. He walked to where she stood in the doorway, purposely crowding her. “Can’t help the looking at you like you mean something, because you do.”
“Stop.”
“Because…?”
“Because it’s a mistake. And because I don’t like to make mistakes. Look,” she said on a sigh, searching for words. “Starting something with you wouldn’t be right. I’ve already got one foot out the door. I’m only here for my father. That’s it.”
“Sure about that?”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, seems to me that you could have told him no. You could have hired another doctor to run the place. But you didn’t. You came. I think you did because you wanted to connect.”
“You—I—” She broke off, closing her eyes to better absorb it all. “Again. I’m going to again.”
Apparently the words were all he’d needed. His mouth skimmed her jaw as he tightened his grip on her, pressing his face in the crook of her neck with a low, unintelligible groan as he stiffened, giving himself up to her. He took her with him, and she surrendered everything, every bit of her, heart and soul right there in the closet.
They stayed like that for long moments, him cradling her against him, her muscles still spasming around him, until finally he stirred, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “You okay?”
“Yes.” She let go of him, but his arms tightened on her as he lightly ran his mouth along her throat. “Mmm. You always smell good.”
That was nice, this was all incredibly nice, and it was almost too much for her. If she stayed like this with him, she’d start thinking, and thinking about this, about him, could only lead to hurt. Not wanting that, not wanting to do or say anything to that dark, deep look in his eyes, the one sending warning signals to her still out-to-lunch brain, she stirred.
“Don’t move,” he protested huskily. “Not yet.”
She had to. Had. To. “I have a hanger poking me in the back and my bare ass is against the wall. It’s time to move.”
“In a sec.” His mouth lazily skimmed over her shoulder, making his way toward a nipple that, unbelievably, hardened for him.
Even more unbelievably, her eyes rolled in the back of her head, and of its own accord, her body arched, giving him the access he needed. Even her face lifted, rising up for another kiss.
Good God. Someone send her a raft, she was going down…
Stone was melting in pleasure. Emma’s tongue was warm and sweet, and danced to his, and he was still buried deep inside her. He was loving all of it, until suddenly she put her hand on his chest and started to disentangle herself. He tried to hold onto her but she gave him the look, the one that said back off, and with a sigh, he let her go.
She immediately turned from him, which gave him a fantastic view of her world-class ass as she began looking for her clothing. “This,” she muttered, “is becoming ridiculous. I have got to start taking my clothes off in a more civilized nature.”
“Civilized?”
“Yes.” She shook out her wrinkled, wet blouse. “And hanging things up would be good too.”
“You think you should be able to stop and hang up each piece of clothing as it comes off.” He nodded even though he thought it was the stupidest idea he’d ever heard.
“It would be helpful.”
He laughed at her, at himself, then bent with her when she went for her pants. He put his hands on her arms and kissed her, kissed her long and deep and wet, and when he pulled back, they were both breathing hard again. It would have been pretty damn ego-boosting at how fast he could get her all worked up except she didn’t want to be worked up to begin with. “Tell me how the hell we’re supposed to do that,” he demanded softly, “and think rationally at the same time.”
She blinked, as if surprised at the question. “Well, I’ve never actually had this particular problem before. I’ve always been able to maintain some composure.”
He stared at her, then shook his head. “Who have you been sleeping with? Robots?”
Not the right thing to ask, given the way her eyes cooled. She turned away from him. “Not robots, no.”
He stared at her stiff, proud shoulders and sighed. She hadn’t given herself to anyone else in a long time, and when she had, it’d been Spencer, who while an excellent friend, apparently hadn’t inspired any wild passion. Before that, maybe another doctor, someone fancy and important, maybe someone on a schedule similar to hers. They’d probably booked their sex on their Blackberries, maybe even had their assistants book it, all “civilized.” “Emma.”
She didn’t look at him as she pulled on the dry sweats and hung up her wet things, so he put on his wet clothes with a wince. There was nothing worse than putting on wet clothes after very satisfying sex, except for maybe putting on wet clothes after not having very satisfying sex. “Emma.”
Nothing.
He turned her to face him. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes unhappy, and his stomach clenched as he tried to pull her in.
“Okay, whoa.” She pointed at him. “No more of that.”
“The hugging?”
“The looking at me like I mean something to you. The soft, sexy voice that makes it so I can’t think. The touching. The kissing. The…rest. Most definitely the rest.” She exited the closet, heading to the reception area, where she pulled open the door for him, setting off the ceramic cowbells.
It’d stopped raining, but water still dripped off the eaves. He walked to where she stood in the doorway, purposely crowding her. “Can’t help the looking at you like you mean something, because you do.”
“Stop.”
“Because…?”
“Because it’s a mistake. And because I don’t like to make mistakes. Look,” she said on a sigh, searching for words. “Starting something with you wouldn’t be right. I’ve already got one foot out the door. I’m only here for my father. That’s it.”
“Sure about that?”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, seems to me that you could have told him no. You could have hired another doctor to run the place. But you didn’t. You came. I think you did because you wanted to connect.”
