by Mandy Baxter
With a loud, forceful shout, he came, pumping his hips in a disjointed rhythm as the orgasm rocked through him, drawing up from his balls through his shaft and exploding from his head in a series of spasms that left him gasping and limp on top of her. Emma’s deep, throaty laughter awakened him from his stupor, and for a second there, Landon thought he might have blacked out. Holy shit, he’d never felt anything like it. So intense. A full body and mind experience that left him rattled and spent.
“Emma,” he breathed against her hair. Their chests met and parted with their labored breath, and Landon shuddered as an aftershock passed through him. He tried to pull out, but the sensation was still too intense and so he stayed right where he was, cradling Emma in his arms with his cock still buried inside of her. “Emma.”
“Don’t move.” Her voice was small in his ears, not the fiery, passionate tenor that had sparked him to life. Now her words were laced with emotion that burrowed into Landon’s chest and held on with sharp teeth that refused to let go. “Lie here with me for awhile. Okay?”
No problem. Landon’s limbs weighed him down. Content and sated, there wasn’t a chance he was going anywhere anytime soon.
Words failed him. Always the guy with a quick comeback, a smart-assed quip, Landon found himself unable to articulate the feelings that tightened his chest as he held this woman in his arms and rested his head against her chest, taking comfort in her warmth against him and the steady beat of her heart. Jesus. What was happening to him?
Landon rolled to his side, worried that he was too heavy. He didn’t want to squish Emma and his muscles were twitching from the effort it took to keep the bulk of his weight off of her. He withdrew from her and missed her heat the second their bodies parted. He wondered if Emma felt the same way, or hell, maybe she was happy to have him off her so she could take a decent breath again.
“Where are you going?”
Or . . . maybe she wasn’t waiting for him to get off of her. “I . . . uh . . .” Jesus, no other woman on the planet affected him the way Emma did. He was seriously stammering like a stupid teenager. “I didn’t want to squish you.” Oh. Nice. Landon wanted to smack himself in the forehead. Way to articulate, dickhead. Romance and pretty words didn’t come easily to him. But when you had grown up in a family that discouraged outward shows of emotion like Landon had, you learned to use sarcasm and humor as a shield pretty damned quick.
“You weren’t squishing me.” Emma’s bright smile was as radiant as the sun, and it banished every shadow that had settled in the room. “I liked it. You. On top of me. Um . . . I mean . . .”
Looked like he wasn’t the only one who had trouble saying what was on his mind. He smoothed the hair away from her face—he couldn’t help himself—and hoped his smile wasn’t as goofy as he knew it was. Emma obviously had some sort of superpower over him because he couldn’t help but feel like a love-struck puppy every time he looked at her.
“Yeah, me too.” Weren’t they a pair? They rocked the dirty talk, but pillow talk was like trying to tackle the intricacies of astrophysics or some shit. “I liked it.”
Landon tucked Emma against his body and let the silence that descended lull him. Outside, the rain continued to rail against the world, and he listened to the violent rhythm, the white noise that quelled any pesky thoughts that might interrupt the quiet moment. It felt so right to lie here with Emma wrapped in his arms, her naked body warm and soft against his.
What if this was the one and only time he got to have her this way?
The thought made it past his well-constructed barrier and dug in like a tick. A parasitic worry that threatened to suck the happy post-sex glow right out of him. He pushed the notion from his mind and forbade himself from thinking it again. Because Landon had no doubt that once would never be enough.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emma felt as though she’d won the World Cup, the Super Bowl, and the NBA championship all at once. She might’ve been a little tongue-tied, but who wouldn’t be after experiencing the most awe-inspiring orgasm of her life? Landon McCabe was a bona fide master of sex. Every sensual, well-built, hard plane of him was made for pleasing a woman.
And wow, had he ever pleased her.
Emma wondered if she’d ever walk again after tonight. One night with Landon was enough to turn her legs to Jell-O. Permanently. She’d never felt so relaxed, so utterly spent. She could fall asleep right now and spend a good ten hours in dreamland without waking even once. Who needed a sleep aid? Find yourself a sex god and you’ll never suffer from insomnia again!
Her stomach rumbled, a not-so-gentle reminder that she hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. Though the rest of her was good and sated, apparently her stomach wasn’t. One could not live by great sex alone, she supposed.
“Was that your stomach?”
Landon’s teasing tone should have made Emma cringe. After all, postcoital bodily noises didn’t exactly rank high on the oh-my-God-sexy scale. But she knew it wasn’t malicious teasing, and he was by no means appalled. He sounded more amused. Or maybe even . . . appreciative. “I told you I was hungry.” She pulled back so she could look up into his face and flashed him a sheepish smile. “I’m pretty sure I burned all of my calorie stores in the past hour or so. I need to refuel.”
“Do you want me to call room service? See if they’ll reheat the food for us?”
No doubt it was all cold, and it was sweet that he’d offer. “There’s a microwave over in that corner,” Emma remarked. “I think between the two of us, we can figure out how to reheat it on our own.”
Landon lifted his head off the pillow and looked around as though he’d never bothered to acquaint himself with the room. “Huh. We do have a microwave.” His amazement made Emma giggle. “And a fridge. When did we get those?”
She tried not to pay attention to the way he said “we” or the warm fuzzy glow it caused. They weren’t a “we” by any stretch of the imagination, no matter how right it sounded. “I think they’ve been here awhile.” Emma disentangled herself from Landon’s embrace. And though what she really wanted was to stay in his arms for the next day or so, her stomach wasn’t going to let her get away with it. “Are you hungry? I ordered more than enough for two.”
“Are you kidding?” He pushed himself up on the bed so he lounged against the headboard. Emma had to clamp her jaw tight to keep it from falling open as she took in his bare, muscled torso. Sex. God. “I’m starving.”
As she rounded the bed and headed for the table, Emma felt Landon’s eyes on her and it warmed her from the inside out. And though the thought that she could tempt him with her body filled her with a heady sense of power, there was one thing Emma didn’t combine and that was nakedness and cooking.
Near the chair—would the hotel let her take that chair home?—where their erotic play had begun, Emma found her underwear. She looked around for her shirt until she remembered that she’d lost it somewhere on the balcony along with Landon’s. Dang it.
“Top drawer on the right. I’ve got a few T-shirts, though if you want to eat like you are, I’m totally okay with that.”
She looked over to see Landon staring at her, his eyes drinking her in, his expression heated. A quick assessment down the length of his body revealed that he was aroused, as evidenced by the impressive length of his erection tenting the sheet. What was she doing again? Emma gave herself a mental shake. Right. Yeah. Food.
“Hot plates and exposed skin are never a good combination,” Emma remarked as she rifled through the drawer. She found a plain white T-shirt and slipped it over her head, inhaling deeply as she did, holding Landon’s scent in her lungs. It was hard to concentrate on anything with him swirling around in her head like that and knowing that he was hard and ready to go again. Damn it, why didn’t hotels come stocked with condoms in every drawer? Sometimes being responsible just sucked.
She busied her mind with food preparation rather than focusing on the distraction of a naked Landon stretched on the bed
not five feet from where she stood. “I must have been really hungry.” Emma laughed as she took the plastic covers from the plates. “And thirsty.” In one hand she scooped up a couple of bottles, one soda and one beer. “Want one?”
“I had no idea that room service delivered beer to your room.” Landon’s eyes sparked with humor as he held out a hand. Emma handed him both bottles, she’d ordered several. “If I’d known that I would have been ordering in a long time ago.”
“Right?” Emma grabbed a plate and crossed the room to pop it in the microwave. She set the timer and turned around to face him. “When we got back this afternoon, it definitely felt like a two-Corona day.”
“And now?” The deep rumble of his voice was a sensual caress that made Emma’s knees weak. Totally Jell-O.
“Now, I’m thinking there are much more constructive ways to take the edge off.”
His answering grin caused a pleasant flush, and Emma had to turn away to keep from performing a full-on gymnastics-style vault that would land her right on top of his lap. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered their passionate moments together, and her stomach tightened once again, though this time with a completely different hunger. The bell on the microwave dinged, giving Emma a start. Talk about letting reality go . . . she’d been right back in that moment, writhing under Landon’s skillful ministrations. How could she ever go back to her old, boring, Landonless life after this?
“Do you want egg rolls or boneless hot wings to start?” She’d ordered about a quarter of the menu, a few appetizers, three entrees, and four desserts. Not to mention the soda and beer. They’d be lucky to get through it all.
“Egg rolls.”
“Good,” Emma said with a grin. “Because I really wanted the hot wings.” She pulled both plates from the microwave and set them on the bed before grabbing a little plastic container of blue cheese dressing and a couple of forks. She handed Landon a fork and stabbed one of the spicy chicken nuggets, plunging it into the dressing before popping it into her mouth.
“You know, those really don’t qualify as buffalo wings.” He indicated the chicken with his fork. “They’re more like buffalo nuggets.”
“These are way better,” Emma claimed as she dipped another piece of chicken into the dressing. “I don’t like the skin, and besides, there’s hardly any meat at all on a real chicken wing.”
“True.”
Landon held out the bottles of beer and soda, and Emma grabbed the Coke. Though she’d needed something to take the edge off earlier in the afternoon, she meant what she’d said. A couple of hours of play with Landon and he’d managed to buff that sharp edge completely smooth.
Emma dunked another nugget and held it out to Landon. “Want one?”
He leaned forward, and slowly wrapped his mouth around the fork, taking the dressing-soaked nugget with him as he leaned back. Holy. Crap. She’d never considered food particularly erotic, but Landon’s steamy exhibition totally changed her mind. Rawr.
“Hmmm. Not bad,” he said as he chewed. “Egg roll?”
Emma didn’t think she could pull off the same feat of raw sexuality wrestling with an egg roll. Landon was a tough act to follow. “No thanks. I’ll fight you for the cheeseburger, though.” Ugh. Fight you for the cheeseburger? That was about the least sexy thing she could have said. Way to follow up strong, Emma, you king-sized dork!
“I don’t know. . . .” Landon sized her up and a shiver rippled across Emma’s skin. “I’m a hard-core burger fan. And I think I could take you.”
Oh, he could take her all right. “I don’t even warrant a bite? I mean, I did save you from getting shot today.”
The playful smile melted right off of Landon’s face, and Emma instantly regretted her words. She’d failed to consider that the episode with Luis might still be touching a nerve. Time out! Time out! She needed a do-over. Or a time machine. His expression further darkened, and Emma had a feeling that it would take more than a cheeseburger to make peace with Landon now.
“First of all, you didn’t save me from anything.” Shut up, Landon. Shut up now. “You’re the one who put yourself in danger by stepping in. See, that’s why I get to carry a gun and chase bad guys for a living. Because I’m trained to. You? Not so much.”
Who needed egg rolls and burgers when Landon’s mouth was too full of his own damned foot? Emma’s expression fell, and if she didn’t look like she was about to kick his ass, he might have done it himself. It was over. Done with. Why revisit any of it? Because she’d pointed out that she’d saved him? Oh yeah, that was it.
“He had a gun. Pointed at your forehead.” Emma spoke slowly as though Landon might be having trouble comprehending. “I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.”
“You do realize that’s why you’re in this situation to begin with, right? Because you jump in where you shouldn’t and find yourself in way over your head.”
“So basically you’re saying I should’ve sat back and let Luis put a bullet in your brain?”
No. Of course not. That wasn’t what he was getting at, at all. “Pretty much. Yeah.”
“You know, that’s what I don’t get about men.” Emma dunked another boneless wing into the dressing with so much force that blue cheese oozed over the rim of the container. “You’re all so worried about being the top dog that you’ll do any stupid thing to prove it.”
“And you weren’t trying to be top dog?” Landon had no doubt that with Emma’s competitive nature, being top dog was one of her priorities. “Don’t put this solely on me. Because there is no way you stole all of that money from Sousa without gloating at least once over the fact that you got one up on him.”
Was this a glimpse into what having a relationship with Emma would be like? Bouts of arguments interrupted by breaks of mind-blowing sex, only to fuel up and start all over again?
“It was about helping my dad.”
“And you never once felt any sort of smug satisfaction? No patting yourself on the back? I call bullshit on that.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed and her jaw took on a stubborn set. That ridiculous adrenaline rush that Landon craved like a drug dumped into his system, rolling through his veins like breakers at high tide. Sick. It was abso-fucking-lutely sick that igniting Emma’s anger would turn him on. But yeah, right in front of him, sticking straight up like a goddamned flag, his dick was waving hello just to drive the point home. Jesus.
Emma glanced at the dressing-covered chicken bite affixed to her fork, pulled back her wrist, and let it fly forward with a catapult action that launched the deep-fried, hot-sauce-and blue-cheese-covered lump of chicken straight at him. It hit his chest with a slimy slap! and slid down between his pecs, landing on top of the tented sheet that barely concealed his upright cock. Fabulous.
For a second, Emma sat there and stared at him, horrified. Then she broke out into a fit of laughter that sent her rocking backward as she dropped her fork on her plate. Holy mother of God, the sound of her laughter . . . If her anger was a turn-on then her joy was more akin to the ecstasy of going straight to heaven. The elation he felt built until it had nowhere else to go and the laughter bubbled up from Landon’s chest. “I can’t believe you just threw food at me!”
He leaned forward and dipped his finger into the blue cheese dressing, smearing it across Emma’s cheek. She squealed in response, laughing even harder as she swiped at her cheek and then licked the dressing off of her fingers. Landon launched himself forward, taking her down to the mattress in a tackle. The plate of boneless bites bounced off the bed and landed on the floor, scattering to parts unknown.
“Goddamn it, I can’t even fight with you without wanting to fuck you.”
Emma’s laughter dwindled and her expression, though still playful, brought a heat that made Landon break out into a sweat. Damn, she was sexy. Without even trying. Which made her even sexier. So did that make her sexier-er? Who the hell cared? He lowered his weight on top of her and nipped playfully at her bottom lip before kissing her. Fing
ers teased his hair, nails raked his scalp as she kissed him back. They’d barely finished and he was ready to have her again, his erection throbbing between his legs as he ground his hips into hers. How was he supposed to live a normal life after tonight? Especially when all he could think of was keeping Emma as naked as possible for as long as possible. At this rate, they’d never leave the hotel room again.
“What about dinner?” Emma murmured against his mouth.
Landon kissed her, those soft rosy lips all the sustenance he needed. He looked over at the table, and Emma craned her neck back to follow his gaze. “I could slather you in hot fudge and lick it off of you.”
Her expression smoldered. “Or maybe, I could lick it off of you.”
The thought of Emma licking anything off of him blinded Landon with lust. Hell, she could bathe him in blue cheese dressing if she wanted. A thin sheet separated their naked bodies, and Landon craved that skin-to-skin contact like he craved air. He supported himself on his forearm as he shimmied the sheet out from between them. He’d make quick work of Emma’s clothes, too. Even if he had to tear them off of her.
“Hang on.” Emma’s brow furrowed as a teasing smile played on her lips. “We’re, uh, out of supplies. You might want to slow your roll, Deputy.”
“True,” Landon said. He wrapped his arms around Emma and rolled them both until she was seated atop him. Leaning up, he peeled his T-shirt off of her and took one nipple into his mouth.
Emma gasped as he sucked, arching her back and pressing into the contact. “I suppose there are other things we could do,” she all but purred as she gripped his shoulders.
He pulled away, drawing a disappointed whimper from Emma. “There are. I mean, off the top of my head there are least thirty or forty things I could do to you that we wouldn’t need condoms for.”
“Thirty or forty?” Emma’s throaty response tingled across Landon’s skin. “There is that hot fudge sauce you mentioned . . .” She pushed him down until he was laid out flat on his back and eased herself slowly down the length of his body, pausing to kiss along his ribs, down his stomach, and the junction where his hip met his thigh.
