by Tami Lund
“What are you doing?” she blurted, even though it was perfectly obvious what he intended to do.
Connor had that adorable, lazy grin on his face again. His eyes were half closed, as if he were drunk. Maybe he was. Although she didn’t feel like it, she figured she had to be, to even be in this current situation.
“I told you,” he said. “I heard southern girls taste sweet. I want to decide for myself.”
“Oh no,” Emily Kate exclaimed as she tried to squirm out from underneath him. “I don’t taste sweet. Not right now. I’m all...all sweaty and...”
But Connor wasn’t deterred. “What’s the point of sex if it doesn’t make you sweaty?”
“I’m sweaty from earlier. At the restaurant.”
Were they really having this conversation?
“Relax, sweetheart. Let me enjoy this.”
“I should have showered when we got home. I should have—ohmigod!”
Her mind went numb as the physical sensations took over. Tingling, pressure—oh the pressure. She felt like a pressure cooker, but it was a good feeling. The sweet agony. She never wanted it to end, but she was desperate to reach the pinnacle, that point of pure, unadulterated pleasure. That point...that point...that pinnacle...
“Yesss.” Her voice faded into a low hiss as her body once again arched, froze in place for endless seconds, before collapsing into a boneless heap on the couch. She swore she had been levitating a moment ago. The things this man could do with his tongue...
Her eyes blinked into focus, and she realized Connor was propped on his elbows, looking down at her with amusement in his eyes and that famous lazy grin on his face.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
“The rumors are true.”
“What rumors?”
“Southern girls do taste sweet.”
Emily Kate squirmed and averted her gaze.
“You don’t need to be uncomfortable. Just enjoy it. I am.” He sat up and tugged off the panties he hadn’t bothered to remove before he focused on that particular part of her body. Then he pulled off her dress and finally undressed himself.
Good Lord, she’d had two orgasms already and neither one of them had even removed their clothing.
She barely had a chance to notice the chill in the air-conditioned air before he was back again, covering her body, his erection pressed intimately against the area he’d just gotten to know with his tongue.
He held the newly purchased box of condoms in his hand. She watched as he ripped open the cardboard box and pulled out a small foil square, then used his mouth to tear it open. He sat back on his haunches and expertly slipped the condom over what she determined was an awfully impressive erection.
“Er...”
He glanced at her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and he sounded legitimately concerned.
“Nothing. I mean...It’s just been a while. And I’ve never...that is...one-night stands. I’ve never done this before.”
“Who said this is going to be a one-night stand?”
He was the single most charming man she had ever met in her life. No wonder she had hopped into bed with him. Well, onto the couch.
“I don’t even think I’ve ever had sex on a couch before.” Why the hell did she feel the need for true confessions at this particular moment?
He rolled his hips, his twitching erection sliding over nerve endings that hadn’t quite settled from her last orgasm. She gasped.
“Definitely won’t be a one-night stand,” he assured her. “There’s a lot of furniture in this place we need to try out.” Before she could formulate a response, he dipped his head and kissed her, his lips covering hers, his tongue thrusting out, teasing, mating with her own. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth and Emily Kate groaned. At the same time, she felt something pressing at her. She could feel the back of his hand against her thigh as he guided his erection into her opening. She spread her legs as wide as she could and held her breath.
“Breathe, baby,” he whispered into her ear. “It’s better if you don’t pass out in the middle.”
She expelled the breath and realized she felt full. Too full. And…good. Really good. She shimmied her hips, and Connor let out a groan.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked uncertainly.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Emily Kate opened her eyes. Connor’s face swam above hers, moving slightly, up and down. His hand was on her hip, his fingers digging into her flesh, as he, as he—
“Oh. Oh. Oh my— Oh!”
The feeling, the realization, the comprehension finally caught up to her pleasure-soaked brain. He was inside. He was fully inside her and he was rocking. In and out, a steady motion that was almost too slow.
“Okay?” he asked, his breath sounding choppy.
She shifted, lifting her hips, and he groaned again. Pleasure spiked through her as she realized he was fully enjoying this, too.
“Yes,” she said, her voice breathy. “Faster.”
“Baby, if I go any faster, it isn’t going to last very long.”
“That’s okay. Faster. Please.” She lifted her hips again.
“Oh...yeah.” He gasped as he increased the speed. His fingers dug into her hip, and the other hand slid around her back and clutched at her shoulder as he pounded into her faster and faster, his breathing becoming more and more rapid and erratic, as, unbelievably, Emily Kate felt her body tense again, coiling tighter and tighter and—
She shouted as the third orgasm tore through her, and Connor pulsed inside her, losing control, yelling out his own release as he tensed and thrust one final, hard time that sent her head banging against the arm of the couch before he collapsed on top of her with a loud, gusty groan.
Chapter 4
He was in her bed when she woke the next morning. In fact, he was lying there, his head propped in his hand, watching her sleep.
“Morning,” she said, the word fading into a yawn as she stretched and bit back a groan. Her body was sore in places that had hardly seen action at all in her life, let alone the kind of action they experienced last night.
Connor’s gaze dropped to her breasts. “Morning.”
She smiled nervously and tugged at the sheet in an attempt to cover her naked torso. He snagged the linen and pulled it away from her. “It’s a little warm in here, don’t you think?” he asked.
Emily Kate frowned. “I can turn down the air.” It didn’t necessarily feel warm to her, but she’d lived in the South her entire life, so she wasn’t much of a judge. Especially compared to someone who was from the North.
He chuckled and smoothed a hand over her belly and up to cup her breast. As he kneaded gently, he said, “That isn’t what I meant.”
“Oh.” Sore body parts took notice to the attention he paid to her breast. Overtaxed nerve endings woke and prepared to be dazzled again.
“I could get used to this,” he murmured as he rolled on top of her and bent to suck her nipple into his mouth.
Emily Kate arched into his touch and said on a gasp, “I was thinking the same thing.”
He rolled away at that point, and she watched as he pulled a wrapped condom out of the box that had somehow moved with them into the bedroom.
“Good thing we have a whole box,” she said impishly, and was rewarded when his eyes flared with appreciation for her words. Hopefully, this really wouldn’t be a one-night stand. Hopefully, Connor would stay tonight, too.
He came back to her, covering her body with his own, nuzzling her breast as his hand slipped down between her legs. His fingers danced over her thigh until they found the bundle of nerve endings that were practically screaming for his touch. She clutched at his shoulders as her muscles tensed. When two fingers slid through the slick folds and found their way into her opening, she groaned. Connor’s hips moved in rhythm to his hand as he stroked her, his erection rubbing against her thigh, until she flung her head to the side and let out a strangled cry as her orgasm exploded.<
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“Oh, yeah,” Connor said.
He didn’t give her a chance to come down from the high. He stroked for another few seconds, and then pulled his fingers away, sheathing himself with expert swiftness. Then his eagerly bobbing shaft was at her opening, and he thrust, pushing into her while she was still riding the waves of her climax. The shock of the intrusion and her oversensitive nerve endings caused her to wiggle underneath him, their bodies shifting and moving until her head hung over the side of the bed and she had to grab the headboard to keep from tumbling to the floor. Connor grabbed her hips and pushed into her again and again, grunting from the effort. Her other hand clung to his hair, and she gasped as—impossibly—another orgasm began to build. Or maybe it was the same one, and he was just so damn good, he knew how to drag out the pleasure until he found his own release.
Emily Kate didn’t really care, to be honest. She held on for dear life, her hand on the headboard giving him more leverage so he could go deeper and deeper. His thrusts became more urgent, his grunts turned to garbled words, and his fingers dug into her hips until she knew she would have bruises. She threw her head back and screamed while Connor’s entire body stiffened and he thrust one more time, so hard he very nearly pushed her off the bed.
And then he collapsed on top of her, his head resting on her chest, while she still hung halfway off the bed, clinging to the headboard with a shaking arm.
“Um, Connor?”
He mumbled something incoherent and didn’t move.
“I’m, ah, going to fall off the bed here in a minute.”
He lifted his head, took note of her precarious position, and slid backward, dragging her with him, until they were both safely lying in the middle of the bed. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and lay his head on her chest again. She smiled and stroked his hair.
***
“Are you using my toothbrush?”
Connor froze, holding the offending item before him, inches from his lips. He caught her gaze in the mirror and then very deliberately offered it to her. “Nope.”
Luckily, she smiled and shook her head, then pulled open a drawer next to the sink. “I keep a supply of toothbrushes because I have so much family from out of town. If visitors realize they forgot theirs, it isn’t exactly convenient to run out and buy a new one. Even Walmart is a half-hour drive from here.”
Connor picked out a blue one, and they stood side by side, brushing their teeth. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying not to be obvious. She hadn’t showered yet. Her hair was mussed and her color was still high from their sexy-as-hell and crazy-ass vigorous morning sex session. She was beautiful. His dick gave a jump but he ignored it. Frankly, he was pretty damn sated at the moment.
Not that he’d say no if she slipped that thin cotton robe off her shoulders and suggested another round.
Emily Kate Boudreaux was that kind of woman. The kind Connor didn’t want to say no to. Maybe he couldn’t say no to. Christ, he’d only known her a total of eighteen hours, and she’d freaking changed his life. And he wasn’t even referring to the amazing sex—not to discount it, of course.
But that aside, he was officially an executive chef. Finally. Running his own kitchen. He had a staff who answered to him. He had a menu he could tweak and redesign on his own whim. Okay, maybe he had to get her to sign off, but he felt reasonably certain she wouldn’t say no. Unless he decided to change the menu to Ethiopian food or something, she’d probably let him run with his own ideas.
So freaking cool.
Reality tried to intrude when Emily Kate said she wanted to shower. He considered joining her, but he was starving, so he told her he’d make breakfast and left her to do her morning routine alone. While he stood in front of the open fridge door, he took stock of the contents as well as his current situation. It had been a whirlwind few days, and not everything that had happened had been positive. Actually, none of it had really been positive, until he’d stepped into Emily Kate’s restaurant.
Connor had never been the kind of guy who habitually tried to do the right thing. He tended to react first and think later. And he tended to choose a good time over the smart decision. Still, he wasn’t entirely a lost cause. At least, he hadn’t been until yesterday.
Now he wasn’t sure what the hell he was.
He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the knobs squeak and the running water stop. Guilt hit him over the innocent yet sexy woman down the hall, probably vigorously rubbing a towel over her supple body at this very moment. He was half tempted to drop the whisk he was using to scramble eggs and head back to the bathroom just to watch her. Even if it was watching her dress instead of undressing, he had a feeling he would enjoy it.
Not good.
She was too good for him. Whatever the hell had happened last night, whatever the hell might happen today or tomorrow or however long it took him to straighten his shit out and then head back to Detroit—or wherever—he needed to keep reminding himself of that fact. He hardly knew the woman, but he knew she was honest, she was sweet, and he’d be willing to bet she’d never done anything illegal in her entire life.
Her parents were still married, family was obviously important to her, and the local community loved her. The staff at the restaurant adored her. She was an amazing artist, whether she believed it or not. And she was a wanton rock star in the sack. The perfect woman.
For someone else.
Even if Connor thought he might stand a chance in hell of winning her over, of shifting this to something more than a damn good time in the bedroom, he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to Emily Kate. And that was beside the fact that if she ever found out who he really was, what he’d done, she’d cut him out of her life so fast his freaking head would spin.
So, it was best to ensure things didn’t go beyond the point of no return. Which meant making sure she understood the boundaries of their relationship. The irony that she’d tried to set ground rules last night and he’d teased her about it did not escape him.
“Hey,” she said, interrupting his reverie. He glanced up. She stood in the doorway leading to the bedrooms, damp blond hair draped over one shoulder, face pink and devoid of makeup, wearing a ribbed tank top and a pair of running shorts. Cute in an I-just-had-the-best-night-of-my-life way. At least he hoped he’d rocked her world the way she’d rocked his.
“Are you using chorizo?”
He looked down at the crumbled sausage frying in the pan on the stove. “Yeah. Is that okay?”
“I love chorizo and eggs,” she said enthusiastically. “I can’t wait to try it.”
Okay, maybe the talk could wait.
Chapter 5
“Hi, Emily Kate.”
She jerked from her dazed stupor and shoved the picture she’d been absently drawing underneath the weekly schedule she was supposed to be creating and lifted her gaze to see who’d caught her daydreaming.
“Kennedy,” she said with a smile. “And Mrs. St. George. What a pleasant surprise.” She climbed out of the booth and hugged her brother’s wife and mother-in-law.
“Oh, please,” Mrs. St. George scoffed. “It’s Wendy. We’ve been family for months now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Emily Kate said dutifully.
“What are y’all doing here?” Emily Kate waved at one of the servers, who hurried over to take their drink orders. Kennedy lived in New Orleans, and her mother lived in Dallas. It was unusual, although not entirely outside the realm of possibility, that they would show up at the restaurant without forewarning.
Kennedy slid into the booth opposite from where Emily Kate had been sitting. Her mother sat down next to her. The server appeared and Wendy ordered a bottle of chardonnay. Emily Kate tried to protest, but Wendy ignored her and shooed the server away.
“Jack had to come to Shreveport for a case, and I have the next three days off work, so I decided to come with him,” Kennedy explained.
“I didn’t know Jack was in town,” Emily Kate said with a frown.
Her brother always called when he was in the area. Even if it was only for an hour or two, he always found time to stop by and visit.
“We just arrived,” Kennedy assured her. “He had to go straight to the local police station, so we decided to come here for lunch.”
“Nothing too dangerous, I hope?” Last year, when Kennedy and Jack had started dating, Jack had been working undercover, trying to catch a murderer. He and his partner, Cullen Lawry, caught the culprit, although Jack had suffered from a knife wound in the process. Luckily, he made a full recovery and had returned to active duty sooner than anyone would have expected.
“Not this time. Something to do with the casinos. Has more to do with money than murder, I believe.”
“That’s a relief.” Her brother was exceedingly proud of his position as an FBI agent, and he swore his job was rarely dangerous, but that didn’t stop Emily Kate from worrying about him.
“Since he’s mostly working while he’s here, I called Mom to see if she wanted to come over from Dallas to hang out for a couple of days,” Kennedy went on to explain. “And she suggested we come here and try to talk you into slipping away for a girls’ shopping excursion.”
Emily Kate glanced down at the unfinished schedule, but her thoughts strayed to the man who was holding court back in the kitchen. They hadn’t exactly gotten a full night’s sleep, yet she’d awakened this morning feeling more refreshed than she had in, well, possibly ever.
It hadn’t been awkward, either, not when he offered up that lazy, crooked grin, not when he enticed her into a round of morning sex—who knew sex first thing upon waking was so outrageously hot?—not even when they stood side by side in front of the mirror in the bathroom and brushed their teeth.
They had breakfast on the deck overlooking the bayou, eating chorizo and eggs and chatting about the restaurant. He had a few ideas, wanted to tweak the menu a bit, so after he showered, they’d curled up on the couch together and flipped through the myriad cookbooks she’d inherited along with the house and restaurant.
