Destiny

by Rachelle Mills et al.

“You’ll be my salvation,” he whispered before catching her lips with his own once more.

  She moaned. His touch was—

  Wait.

  Emma’s eyes popped open. She pulled away.

  “I’ll be your what?” she squawked.

  Henry stared at her lips a moment before his mind seemed to clear as well. His eyes widened.

  “Uh, I said, ‘salvation,’ but it sounds like that is a thing that should not have been said.”

  She may have been tipsy, but she wasn’t completely out of it. She pivoted and took a step away from him.

  “You think I’ll be your salvation?”

  His lips thinned into an awkward smile. “I got wrapped up in the moment, I guess.”

  “Sorry, but that is weird. That is really weird and a little creepy. You don’t actually think that, do you? That I’ll fix your life and your emotional scars?”

  This was perfect. She had made out with her boss, who was turning out to be a class-A weirdo, and now she was calling him on it. But she couldn’t not call him out on it. Great start to this new career shift, Em.

  Henry let out a breath. “No, look, I’m sorry. It’s been a while. It’s something I used to say to women back in the day. They loved it. I was nervous, so I fell back on old habits.”

  Wonderful. It was a line—and a bizarre one. Emma frowned. “When you say, ‘back in the day,’ do you mean like turn of the previous century? Because I have no idea who would be into that promise of co-dependency within at least the last forty years.”

  His lips pulled into an awkward, close-mouthed smile that did not reach his eyes.

  Emma laughed. “You seriously used that on women at the turn of last century?”

  He scratched the back of his neck and looked down. “Yes, and it worked…pretty much all the time. They liked being swept up in the romance. Brooding, torn hero and all that.”

  The man was beyond ridiculous. Emma slapped him on the arm, but she was smiling. “Have you not done this in a long time or something?” She giggled. “I’m being rude, but I can’t believe how dumb that line is.”

  Emma looked up at him, and the laughter died. Any embarrassment he’d been feeling was gone from his face. Nothing was resolved. He still wanted her. Her lips parted, and he closed the distance between them again. His kiss was slow and satisfying, and it absolutely decimated her.

  Too soon, he pulled away to murmur in her ear, “It’s been about five years, but it’s not something you forget how to do.”

  “No, you…No yeah, you remember very well,” she stammered.

  She frowned as he turned his head and peered down the street. “The office is a block away.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest. “We better hurry then,” she said, surprised by the huskiness in her voice.

  Their determined strides ate up the pavement, and soon Henry yanked open the front door. As he kicked it closed, Emma tore off her cape. She launched herself at him like she’d always wanted and kissed him hard. They stumbled their way through the hallway, and she led them backward into her office toward the couch.

  Henry broke the kiss, his breathing harsh. She opened her eyes to find him staring at something behind her. His face folded into a bitter scowl.

  Emma blinked, confused about what could’ve inspired such animosity. She turned her head to see that he was glaring daggers at her desk, of all things.

  She tilted her head into his field of vision to make eye contact. “Problem?”

  “Every time I’m in here, I have to look at that eyesore,” he said very seriously.

  “Uh, my desk?”

  What in the hell? This was completely irrelevant to her vastly important mission to have sex with him. She was somewhat mollified when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close again.

  “If that’s what you want to call it,” he scoffed.

  Emma shook her head in disbelief. “It’s not like I picked it out,” she said defensively. “And it’s perfectly fine. It gets the job done.”

  “There’s exactly one thing that piece of crappy furniture should be used for,” he asserted, his voice smooth and dark.

  His fingers stroked her waist, and she could barely process what he said. What his hands had to do with her desk, she wasn’t sure.

  Still, she asked. “What’s that?”

  His gaze was hard and assessing. Heat shot straight through her.

  He leaned in close to her ear again. “For me to fuck you on it until the damn thing breaks.”

  ***

  After being ruled by books and logic for so long, Henry’s control had snapped the minute she’d broadcasted her thoughts in the middle of the quiet emptiness of Convent Avenue. Now that he’d tasted her, he remembered what he’d been missing. Soft warm flesh, heated moans. His fangs were down, and he needed her.

  Henry relished her sharp intake of breath at his words. They spent so much time trying to do the proper thing; he liked seeing her off-kilter. He lowered his head and kissed her again, her soft chestnut hair skimming his arm. His veins frantically pulled and pushed blood in and out of his heart. As his eyes slid shut, he heard her whimper.

  He grazed her bottom lip with his teeth, and lust rushed through his body as her mouth opened for him. He slowly slid his tongue between her lips. He fell down the rabbit hole. His cock thickened against her thigh. He idly wondered if the folds of her pussy were as warm and wet as that sweet mouth of hers.

  Henry pushed his fingers through her hair and cradled the back of her head. She ran her tongue against his. He slowly pulled away from her and breathed hotly in her ear. She shivered.

  “Will you let me break your desk?” he whispered. He needed to know, plain as day. “We’ll get you a new one.”

  “Is that a promise?” she asked with a gleam of a challenge in her eyes.

  Kissing and walking in a straight line was more complicated than it seemed, so he took her hand in his and walked her over to the offending piece of furniture. He let his gaze rake over her body; he was going to do horrible things to her under that tight green dress.

  He started to nudge her to sit on the desk, but she put her palm on his chest. “I know it’s romantic to sweep everything off the desk and ravish each other, but…I don’t want to mess up any files, and I have nice stuff. Stuff that I like. Let me clear some space.”

  Henry bit his lip. He could respect the hell out of that. Why did she have to be so endearing? Without a second thought, he immediately started moving casebooks and files off her desk into organized piles on the floor. She moved her desk calendar, a vase, and a mug full of office supplies. In an instant, the shoddy piece of furniture was ready to die. He pulled her close and guided her backward until her thighs hit the front of the desk.

  “I’ve had so many daydreams about fucking you and making this thing collapse,” he said against her lips.

  “There’s a liability suit somewhere in there,” she said, reaching up under his shirt to run her hands across his chest.

  “The attorney’s fees wouldn’t be worth the cost of this piece of crap,” he said and knocked the particle board for emphasis.

  “Probably right.” Emma chuckled and angled her head so she could kiss his neck.

  Henry groaned and cupped her ass to grind himself against her. She let out a sigh, her breath fanning his neck. Then she had to go and nip him, her teeth grazing his sensitive skin. More blood flowed down to his erection as his eyes flew open. Well. That was an interesting development. Maybe she’d be interested in vampire bites? No, later. One step at a time.

  Henry circled his arms around her to unzip the back of her snug dress and slip the top of it down her soft shoulders. Since the skirt was tight, he shimmied it up her thighs until it was bunched at her waist. She reached back to unhook her black silk bra and tossed it to the floor. He was about to thank her for the help but was too distracted by the sight of her breasts. He took in all of her—tousled hair, swollen lips, and flushed chest.

 
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his breathing ragged.

  “You’re sweet.” She lifted his shirt up and tugged at his jacket. “Now take this stuff off.”

  Heat coursed frenetically through his veins as he did as he was told. He kissed her again and reveled in the skin-to-skin contact. How had he lived without this for so long? Sliding his hands between them, he gently cupped her breasts and lazily ran his thumbs across her nipples. She let out a small cry when he lowered his mouth to suck on them.

  “I assume that means I’m doing something right?”

  She panted. “It’s actually code for ‘shut up and don’t stop.’”

  Henry laughed and helped her lean backward until her back lay flat against the desk. He smiled devilishly as the shoddy structure swayed uneasily.

  His fingers found her underwear—lace, and soaking wet. He pushed the fabric to the side and slowly ran one finger along her lips, her hair tickling his skin. He took her gasp as another sign to “shut up and don’t stop,” so he slowly slipped his finger inside her. She squeezed around him, so he brought in his other hand to rub her clit in small circles.

  He smiled when Emma let out a low moan. His fingers slowly left her so he could slide her panties down to her ankles. Green, to match the dress. She just might drive him crazy, after all. He wanted to drive himself inside her, but first, there was something else he hadn’t done in way too long.

  Henry dropped to his knees and nudged her thighs wider apart. He stared. She was so warm, soft, and wet. Open for him. Henry kissed her, slowly. He licked her lips then slipped a finger inside her. He sucked her clit and started to leisurely draw random shapes with his tongue against her nerve center. Her heels dug into his back to bring him closer. Intense, feminine cries escaped her; Henry’s erection strained against his jeans, and his pride swelled.

  When the desk started to wobble, he emerged from underneath her skirt with his face wet with her arousal. He looked up at her, happy to see her panting.

  “Don’t stop,” she begged.

  His dick protested, but who was he to deny a woman in need? Planting his hands on either side of her on the desk, he kissed her beautiful swollen folds again. Her hands found the back of his head and held him in place while he sucked and flicked her clit with his tongue. The desk creaked dangerously. His tongue delved inside of her and thrust, first slowly, then a little faster. She squeezed around him and moaned louder as he kept licking her.

  His cock pleaded with him to tear off his jeans so he could sink into her wet softness already, but then she ground herself against his face. She was way too close. She might stab him with a letter opener if he moved.

  Her moans suddenly stopped, but he knew better than to think it was over. The room was quiet, save for her quick, quiet pants and the rhythmic creaking of the desk.

  Suddenly she cried out and her pussy clenched hard around his tongue, spasming in waves. He kept licking her slowly, letting her ride it out. He smiled a little. At least he hadn’t forgotten how to do that. He waited for her orgasm to abate before slowly pulling away from her. He wiped his face on his arm and stood back up.

  “I’m glad you didn’t stop.” She sighed and stared into his eyes.

  Her gaze was unfocused, and splotches of red dotted her chest. But she was smiling. Well, that was a good sign. The desk groaned. …That was not.

  And then she was falling.

  ***

  Emma panicked as she felt the world giving away from beneath her—and not metaphorically. Henry grabbed her hands and pulled her against him, but they both wobbled from the force of the movement. Then they were both falling.

  They landed with a crash on the floor amid splintered wood. Henry had turned to take the brunt of it while she’d fallen partly on his chest and partly on the collapsed desk. Emma cried out with pain as the wind got knocked out of her. Henry immediately rolled away from her. She would have laughed if she’d been able to.

  “Are you okay?” He examined her body for injuries and touched her face. He frowned as he looked her up and down, his eyes all concern.

  She winced but nodded in response.

  “You sure?”

  After a long moment, she managed to take few deep breaths and nodded again. Pain throbbed in her side, so she waited a couple of minutes before speaking.

  “I’m fine, though it’ll probably bruise,” she said.

  When the worry didn’t leave his eyes, she teased him by throwing a small piece of splintered wood at him. “Jesus, Henry. I thought that was just talk. I didn’t expect you to actually break the damn thing.”

  Henry shook his head and made a crossing motion with his hands, denying fault. “That desk broke itself.”

  He sat up and helped bring her to her feet. When she was steady, they stared at each other. That orgasm, that everything had been incredible. Yet as they stood there uncertainly, she belatedly realized she was a wreck with her dress shoved and tugged in weird ways. Despite his earlier declaration, she wasn’t sure if she should take the damn thing off or set herself to rights. Henry looked around her office, seemingly having the same doubts creeping into his brain as she did. Emma didn’t want to be the first one to talk, though. Didn’t want to be the one to shut this down, even as she knew it was coming.

  “That wasn’t a mistake,” he said firmly.

  “But we probably shouldn’t do it again,” she finished.

  He pursed his lips. “Yes, exactly.”

  Emma hesitated but plowed through anyway. She wasn’t ready to end this yet. “Or maybe we just need time to process before making a decision? It’s been a hell of a night.” Between the drinking, the dancing, the walking, the laughing, and the coming, she was exhausted.

  Henry snapped his fingers at her. “That’s an excellent point. We’ll sleep on it. Separately.”

  A small part of her wilted. If a guy wanted to be with you, he was with you.

  “Sure,” she said, even as she knew that their dalliance would stop here. “We’ll revisit the issue some other time.” Jesus, it was like they were planning an agenda for a board meeting.

  Emma dressed quickly but found herself unable to resist asking him to walk her to Daphne’s. It felt pathetic, but she wanted to be near him. Even if it was just two lonely people walking down the street.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Henry walked Emma home, Daphne’s voice echoed tauntingly in his head: You and my sister both tend to be buzzkill lawyer types. His eyes narrowed. Yes, that’s exactly right, and it’s for the best, he thought stubbornly. It seemed that neither of them could think of anything to say, so they walked in silence. When they arrived at Daphne’s front door, Emma pulled out her keys from her purse and gave him a tight smile.

  “Thanks for the escort home. And thank you for showing me another side of Tucson. I think it will help with my cases a lot.”

  Back to work, as was appropriate.

  “Good.” He gave a quick nod.

  “I’ll see you Monday?”

  “See you then.”

  Emma smiled briefly but then turned toward the door to unlock it.

  “Oh, you almost forgot,” he beckoned. He couldn’t help it; he wasn’t quite ready to see her go.

  Emma turned back and frowned in question.

  “Your skull bouquet. You asked me to smuggle it out of the hotel.”

  Henry opened his jacket and mimed removing the vase. He dusted the invisible bouquet off before gingerly passing it to her. Her eyes were bright as her beaming smile broke into laughter. He was mesmerized by the sight of her. He was glad he’d remembered. The strain between them seemed to ease somewhat.

  “Good night, Emma.”

  “Night, Henry.”

  He watched her go inside. Then put one foot in front of the other as his penis roared and prepared to write a scathing dissent. What a lovely mess. It was one thing to imagine fucking your associate attorney but another thing entirely to attempt it. It had to be hormones. He shouldn’t be surprised. It was
what happened when you abstained for that long. You went insane around the first attractive, smart, funny woman you met.

  For all the logic and fortitude he’d hammered into the both of them, that smile she’d given him as he’d handed her a fake bouquet had broken down his thinly constructed indifference like an obnoxious child destroying a sandcastle at the beach. Even though they’d made their choice, he couldn’t forget the way she’d responded in his arms. The sound of her coming would echo through his head all night.

  ***

  Someone was inking a ferret into Daphne’s hip the next afternoon. It was an odd choice but, Emma had to admit, also an awesome one. The design had simple clean lines and there would be no color. Just black ink and maybe a little gray for shading. The ferret was on all fours and looking curiously into space; it had a studded collar on its neck. Emma’s weekends had gotten infinitely more interesting ever since she’d moved back to Tucson.

  Daphne was sprawled out on her back on what looked like a dentist’s chair. Her head was thrown back and she was carefully studying Emma from upside down, apparently unfazed by the pain the cheerful tattoo artist named Leona was inflicting. Emma sat on a couch across from them and just watched, fascinated by the process.

  “You sure you don’t want to get one?” Daphne asked for the fifth time that night.

  “I don’t even know what I would get,” she replied, realizing that she wasn’t saying “no” like all the previous times.

  Leona pulled the ink gun away from her sister’s hip and pointed at a design on her own golden-brown skin. “Maybe an eighties throwback? I got a Ms. Pac-Man on my forearm a few months ago.”

  Emma smiled but shook her head.

  “Then are you going to tell us what’s bugging you?” Daphne asked, also for the fifth time that night. “You’ve been weird since your little date with Henry and you won’t give details.” She pouted.

  Emma stiffened from where she sat and then stood to hide the awkward tension her sister was sure to see in her posture. She stared at some framed designs hanging from the wall much closer than necessary before backing away with manufactured poise. She slid into an empty leather-padded tattoo chair next to her sister.