Cross Check (Marriage Contract #1)

by Colleen Masters

  He tastes exactly the same, beneath the fine red wine. But while our bodies find the same easy syncopation we’ve always known, there’s more sureness and grace in our motion. Emerson was all raw power at eighteen, but now? He’s totally comfortable in his body, assured and knowledgeable. His every muscle is a tightly coiled spring of power and finesse. I’ve been craving his touch for eight years, but I never could have guessed how good it could possibly feel to have it again.

  There’s no preciousness in our desire, now. No need for things to be right or perfect. We just need each other, in the rawest, most carnal way. We tear at each other’s clothing, ripping off layers and tossing them across the room. I rake my nails across the firm planes of his body—his rippling back, his impossibly cut torso—as he grabs hold of whatever part of me he can. In a matter of minutes, our naked bodies are pressed together on his king bed, our skin flushed with want, our mouths insatiable.

  “I almost forgot this,” I whisper, tracing the outline of his sparrow tattoo as he kneels above me. His cock is rock hard, throbbing at its full, massive best. I bring my hands eagerly to that pulsating length, shivering with delight as I wrap my fingers around his shaft. His eyes close as I work my hands along the full stretch of him, my thumbs tracing along the ridge of his swollen head. “Almost forgot this, too,” I grin.

  “Yeah?” he growls, catching my wrists and pinning them over my head, “Well, let me remind you of a few other things, while we’re at it.”

  His eyes rake down along the length of my naked body. My back arches as if his very gaze is caressing me. I let my knees fall open as he brings his lips to the hollow of my throat, leaving searing kisses all along my skin. He lowers himself to me as he moves his mouth over my body, letting me feel the tip of him brush against my wet slit.

  “You’re so ready for me,” he growls, pressing his cock forward by just a hair as he kneads my tits with capable hands. He pinches my nipples just hard enough, and I cry out as the first thundering shockwave of pleasure runs through me.

  “Christ,” I breathe, my eyes wide with wonder, “You know exactly how to touch me.”

  In reply, he lowers his lips to my nipple. Keeping his eyes on mine, he takes that hard peak into his mouth, rubbing against it with the tip of his tongue. I gasp as his fingers skirt down my lean torso and find my wet, aching sex. Sucking and biting at my tits, he traces his fingers along the slick length of me, working farther into me with every pass before he finally, gloriously, lays two strong fingers against my hard, throbbing clit.

  My head falls back against the pillows as he bites my nipple, tracing firm, quick circles over that tender nub between my legs. I grab onto huge handfuls of bedding, forcing myself to breathe as he rolls his fingers over my clit, faster and harder with every moment. My knees begin to tremble as I dig my nails into his back, holding on for dear life.

  “Right there,” I moan, as he flicks and kneads that pulsing bundle. “God, that’s good.”

  “You think that’s good?” he growls, catching a handful of my blonde hair in his hand and turning me to face him. The sudden jolt of force coupled with his expert touch between my legs nearly makes me come right then and there. “Just wait...”

  He gives me a swift, hard kiss, working my jaw open and letting his tongue sweep deeply into my mouth. I wrap my arms around his neck, shuddering on the edge of orgasm as he bears down on my clit.

  “I’m so close,” I whisper.

  “How close?” he growls in my ear, forcing my knees further apart with his.

  “So...so...” I gasp, my eyes screwing up in bliss. I teeter on the edge, ready to tumble.

  But the room spins around as Emerson grabs hold of my hips, flips me roughly onto my stomach. Shock and illicit delight confound me as I look back at him over my shoulder. There’s a savage hunger burning in his blue eyes as he kneels over me from behind, letting me feel his enormous cock against the tight, forbidden circle of my ass. For just a moment, I think I know where we’re headed, but again he surprises me.

  Pulling me forcefully onto my hands and knees, Emerson runs his fingers into the firm rise of my ass. I arch my back, knowing how much he loves to drink in the sight of me wild with needing him. With a low, guttural growl, he tugs me back toward him, lowering his mouth to my sex. My mouth falls open in amazement as he pushes against my flesh, parting me before him from behind. The illicit thrill is almost too much, which makes it just enough to drive me absolutely crazy.

  I savor the sensation of his tongue tracing all along my slit, licking me from behind. The very next moment, I feel the tip of his tongue against my raw, tender clit. I buck against him as he has his fill of me, licking up every drop of my desire as he works that hard button. I barrel toward the edge of bliss, blinded by the force of it. My screams echo around the small room as Emerson wraps his lips around my clit and gives it one last forceful suck.

  I’m done for.

  With an elated scream, I come hard into his waiting mouth. My limbs shudder with the force of the orgasm that rolls wildly through me, lighting up every nerve ending with unprecedented sensation. Emerson drinks me up, unable to get enough, until I’m absolutely spent. I turn to look back at him, dizzy and amazed. In the throbbing aftermath of my bliss, I can only think of one thing.

  “I need you to fuck me, Emerson,” I breathe, on my hands and knees before him. “I need to feel you inside of me. Now.”

  “As if I could wait another second,” he growls, taking my face in his and kissing me deeply. I can taste myself on his tongue, and shudder with delighted anticipation.

  With his mouth on mine, he lifts my body and presses me hard against his wooden headboard. I grab on tight as he moves behind me, flattening me against the sturdy surface. There’s just enough time for me to take a breath as he produces a condom from the bedside table, tears the package open with his teeth, and rolls it down his throbbing shaft. I brace myself, lifting my ass to Emerson as I feel him poised behind me, his hard chest heaving with anticipation.

  Our voices rise together in a soaring moan as Emerson drives his cock into my waiting, eager body. My fingers dig into the headboard as he splits me open, slamming into the very core of me. I’ve never felt him this way before, never dreamed anyone could reach me so deeply, so fully. I press myself back into his every thrust, taking him in as far as I can. My head falls back between my shoulders as Emerson pounds into me, his fingers digging into my hips and his thumb pressing around my ass—the feeling so intensely illicit it drives me crazy.

  With every pass, I feel more of him. I swear, he grows harder by the second as I cling to the headboard, dashing myself against him with all my might. His grasp tightens as he careens toward the edge himself. I bear down as his pace becomes quicker, his bucking hips more intent. I know he’s about to lose it.

  “Come,” I gasp, turning to meet his gleaming blue eyes. “I want you to—”

  He rears back and drives into me with one last, breathtaking thrust. We cry out in unison as he erupts inside of me. Our bodies are run through with sweeping sensation, and we ride the crashing wave together. We peak and collapse together, folding into one tangle of spent limbs. Our chests rise and fall like mad as I curl into Emerson’s muscular side.

  He pulls me close, enclosing me in his arms as our breathing slowly evens out. The record finally ends as we lay in Emerson’s bed together. In the warm, easy silence, we finally swim back to the surface of reality, gazing at each other in the half light.

  “I can’t believe I went nearly a decade without this,” I laugh softly, running a hand through his closely cropped brown hair.

  “Me either,” he grins, kissing my palm, “Let’s not do that again, OK? The being-apart thing, I mean.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I sigh happily, resting my cheek against his chest. “I couldn’t stand to lose this again.”

  “You won’t,” he says, his voice taking on a serious cast. “Whatever happens, Abby, I won’t let anything ruin this.”

&
nbsp; As the world reforms around us, the nagging intrusions of the real world creep back into my mind. I want to believe that nothing can derail us now, that we’re home free. But what about my family? Our parents? Our history? What about our careers, and the fact that we live on different continents?

  But as Emerson kisses away the worried crease between my eyebrows, all those unknown factors fade away. It’s only him and me, now. Alone in this beautiful Soho apartment with another bottle of wine just waiting to be opened and a little bundle of white fur leaping up onto the bed to cuddle at our feet.

  I wonder if this is what things would have been like if we hadn’t been separated all those years ago. Would we have been able to continue on as a pair and wind up here eventually? Or did we need to be apart for that time, grow into our own selves before we could be together? It’s impossible to know, of course. But still, it’s a comfort to think that all the pain we’ve been through, separately and together, hasn’t been in vain. That our whole lives have been leading up to something wonderful that we now get to share.

  “Come on,” Emerson says, easing me up from bed and handing me my top, “We haven’t even had dessert yet.”

  “You’re perfect, you know that?” I sigh, slipping back into my clothes.

  “Yeah. I know,” he teases, leaning in for another kiss.

  We head back out into the loft half-dressed, open up a bottle of Pinot Grigio, and dig into a couple pints of ice cream—Tahitian mint for me, black cherry for him. Settling down onto the expansive, pillowy couch, we talk late into the night, halfway paying attention to some mushy rom-com that’s playing on TV as we revel in playing house together. I hardly even notice as I start drifting off into a sated, happy sleep. My appetites—all of them—have never felt so satisfied as they do tonight.

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * *

  Sloppy kisses land all over my sleeping face, dragging me out of slumber. Man, has Emerson lost his smooching prowess already? I think to myself, prying my eyes open. But as I blink into the morning sunlight, it isn’t Emerson’s blue eyes I find staring back at me, but Roxie’s chocolate brown peepers. I laugh, giving her a good scratch behind the ears and pulling myself to sitting. I’ve fallen asleep on the couch with my head in Emerson’s lap. He’s still out, and I help myself to a moment of watching him sleep. His features are soft and relaxed, as gorgeous as ever. I can’t believe I have the privilege of seeing him this way again.

  Swinging my legs over the couch, delicately so as not to wake him, I reach into my purse and grab for my phone. I blink down at the welcome screen and see a dozen texts from Riley, asking where I am. There are missed calls, too, a good handful. And not just from Riley, either. The Bastian offices seem to have called my phone, more than a few times. At first, I can’t imagine why. That is, until I see what time it is.

  “Fuck!” I cry out, tumbling off the couch.

  “Huh? What?” Emerson mumbles, snapping out of his slumber and looking wildly around. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s twelve thirty already!” I tell him, scrambling to my feet in a panic. “We’re supposed to be at work! How the hell did we oversleep?”

  “Guess we wore each other out last night, huh?” Emerson smiles, reaching for me.

  “Don’t,” I snap, tearing off in search of my clothes. “We’re going to be an hour late to work, Emerson. And it’s only my second day.”

  “Relax,” he says, following me into the bedroom, “I’ll vouch for you.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’ll look awesome,” I shoot back. “Me strolling in on my superior’s arm, getting special treatment because I happen to be fucking the right person.”

  “Whoa, slow down,” he says, “First of all, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just don’t think this is as big a deal as you’re making it out to be. Cooper doesn’t even show up until noon, remember? And secondly, I didn’t realize we were just ‘fucking’, here.”

  “We’re not—I’m just—” I stammer, shoving my hands through my hair. “I’ve been dreaming about a job like this for months. Years. And now, when I finally get my foot in the door, I fuck it up immediately. God, I don’t even have any fresh clothes to wear! I’m going to have to show up in the same thing I wore yesterday, and everyone’s going to know that we—”

  “Here,” Emerson says, reaching into his wallet and withdrawing a credit card. “Take this. Go to the shop downstairs and buy something new. We’ll head right over to the office.”

  “I can’t take your card,” I say, gaping at him. “It’s...it’s yours.”

  “Why not?” he shrugs, “It’s partially my fault we overslept. Let me help fix it.”

  “But—”

  “Go,” he insists, pressing the card into my palm, “I’ll get dressed and meet you.”

  Reeling, I gather my things and trundle out of Emerson’s loft onto the Soho street. There’s a tiny boutique downstairs, chock full of incredible items. The shop girl raises an eyebrow as I barrel in, but forgets her troubles when I hand her the surprisingly heavy credit card. In no time flat, she has me styled in a combination of new and vintage pieces. Emerson appears as I’m being rung up, impressed by my sleek black jeans, silky yellow blouse, and grungy studded jacket. I nearly faint as I see what this outfit is going to cost, but Emerson doesn’t even bat an eye as his card is charged. I still can’t get used to the idea that money is no issue for him. And I definitely don’t know how to feel about using his money for myself. But no time to debate the issue now, we’ve got to book it.

  We set off for our office, which is thankfully located in the same neighborhood as Emerson’s apartment. But still, by the time we step into the elevators, it’s one in the afternoon. I bounce on the balls of my feet as the elevator lifts us up to the offices, feeling anxious and guilty.

  “Take a breath, Abby,” Emerson tells me, as we draw level with our floor. “I’m sure no one’s even going to notice that we’re—”

  As the doors slide open, I feel the breath catch in my throat. A dozen faces whip around in unison as the entire office turns to stare at us. Every face at the communal desk stares at me and Emerson unabashedly as we step onto the floor side-by-side. I can feel my cheeks burning as my co-workers’ gazes go from curious to smug. I’m sure they all spent the entire morning wondering if Emerson and I were together, and now their suspicions have been confirmed.

  “Cooper asked to see you both as soon as you got in today,” says Emily, one of the people who saw me and Emerson at that bar together. The corners of her mouth are turned up in a grin that’s starving for scandal.

  “Thanks,” Emerson says curtly, drawing himself up to his full height. He has no reason to be cowed by our co-workers’ scrutiny. He has seniority. And a billion-dollar bank account. I, on the other hand, am absolutely leveled. I can’t believe I’ve let myself become a joke within my first forty-eight hours here.

  “Nice duds,” mutters Tyler, scoping out my outfit as Emerson and I hurry past the desk toward Cooper’s office.

  “That’s what a sugar daddy will get you,” Bradley stage whispers. Delighted chuckles go up all around the table, and my embarrassment hardens into anger.

  “Why don’t you focus on the task at hand instead of sniping like a little preteen, beardy?” I snap back at him.

  “Wow. Someone’s touchy,” he says, raising his bushy eyebrows. “I thought hot sex was supposed to be relaxing.”

  “Hey, Bradley” Emerson cuts in, whipping around the face the alternative douche bag. “Why don’t you try shutting the fuck up.”

  The room goes quiet around us as Bradley and his cohorts back down. But instead of this being a relief, it only adds to my annoyance.

  “Don’t fight my battles for me,” I mutter to Emerson, marching toward Cooper’s door.

  “Your battles?” he shoots back, “You’re in this alone now, are you? I could have sworn that it takes two to oversleep after tearing up the bed sheets all night.”

  “No, I’m just—” I begi
n, but the frosted glass door swings open before I can finish.

  “Ah. You’re here,” Cooper says, appearing in the doorway. His jolly demeanor has totally vanished, in its place is nothing but a cool, detached stare. The transformation is total, and it takes me off guard. But Emerson’s not worried—or at least, he’s pretending not to be.

  “You wanted to see us?” Emerson asks, strolling into the office. I hurry in after him, feeling a dozen judgmental stares boring into my back.

  “Yes,” Cooper replies crisply, closing the door behind him and taking a seat at his desk. “Have a seat, you two.”

  “Have a seat?” Emerson laughs. “Feeling a bit formal today, Coop?”

  “Just sit down, Emerson,” Cooper shoots back.

  Emerson and I sink down into the two chairs before Cooper’s desk. Our boss looks back and forth between us, his expression unreadable. Emerson, for his part, looks cool as a cucumber. I, on the other hand, probably look like I’m going to be sick. In fact, I just might be, depending on how this little meeting goes.

  “The last thing I want to do in my precious free time is intercept office gossip,” Cooper begins, crossing his arms over his sweater vest. “But the buzz about you two has been a bit impossible to ignore this morning.”

  “People like to talk,” Emerson shrugs, leaning back in his chair. I glance at him nervously. His nonchalance could very easily read as disrespect.

  “Be that as it may,” Cooper goes on, “Whatever it is that’s going on between you two is distracting the rest of your coworkers.”

  “Again, I don’t see how that’s news,” Emerson presses, “They need to mind their own business and focus on their work.”

  “That’s rather rich, coming from you,” Cooper says testily.

  “What are you talking about?” Emerson replies, “I take my work for Bastian very seriously, Cooper. You know that.”