Hard to Come By

by Laura Kaye

  “Be right back,” Emilie said, slipping into an adjoining room and turning on the light. The sounds of drawers opening and closing, and items being gathered, made their way out to him. And then it got silent for a little while. Except . . . was she talking to herself? It was hard to tell over the relentless rain. The sound of cardboard ripping, then a crinkling, and then she was shutting out the light and returning to him, a flowery bag and some brushes in her hands. She dropped those on top of everything else. “Okay, I think that about does it.” She looked around the room as if she wasn’t really convinced.

  “Come here,” he said, holding out a hand. Her feet bare, she rounded the bed, that snug, little skirt no less sexy than it had been the first time he’d laid eyes on it. He grasped her hand and pulled her to stand between his thighs. His groin tightened at the proximity, but really, he just wanted to offer her comfort. Resting his hands on her hips, he tugged her in a step so he could look into her eyes. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, tracing her fingers over his face. Down his cheek. Over his brow. Across his bottom lip. She might as well have rubbed the bulge in his jeans for how much the light, dragging touch set him off. “I want you to know something.”

  “Okay.” His thumbs rubbed softly over her hipbones, the thin stretchy cotton of the skirt all that separated his skin from hers.

  She took a deep breath, like she was bolstering her courage, and then she met his gaze. “I was married. It ended a couple years ago, although the divorce wasn’t finalized until just after last Thanksgiving. He cheated on me.” She shook her head, and Marz’s gut started a slow descent to the floor. “No, it was worse than that. He had a whole other family. He lied and schemed and chose them over me in the end. Not that I would’ve taken him back at that point, but even though I didn’t want him anymore, it was a blow to realize he didn’t want me, either. Hadn’t for a long time. And here I’d spent years fretting over why he didn’t want to start a family with me. He didn’t need to. Already had one.”

  “Oh, hell, Emilie. I’m so sorry,” Marz said, immediately understanding how what he’d done probably hadn’t looked so much different in her eyes. Hell, he was lucky she was giving him a shot at all. “And what I did brought all that back up for you, didn’t it?” Damnit.

  “It did, but that’s not why I wanted you to know.” Her hands smoothed down his neck to his shoulders, and she leaned in closer. “I’m a work in progress where trust is concerned, so I’d always rather you be brutally honest than lie to me. Even a little white lie. Okay?”

  Marz ran his hands up her back, drawing her closer yet. “I don’t want to keep anything from you, Em. Not ever again.”

  “That’s all I ask,” she said with a nod, her face so close to his that the fallen tendrils of hair from her braid created a thin curtain around them.

  And inside that bubble, the air suddenly sparked red hot.

  Marz held back, not wanting to take anything she wasn’t ready to give.

  But then she whispered, “Kiss me.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice.

  The kiss was blistering in its intensity. They clutched at one another tightly, lips crashing and sucking and pulling, swallowing each other’s gasps and moans. Marz was rock hard in an instant, and nearly out of his mind with desire. Every masculine urge within him demanded that he bury himself deep inside her and never let go.

  “God, Emilie,” he rasped, pulling away from her lips to taste her neck, her collarbone, the skin along the vee of her shirt. His hands dragged down her back, landing on her ass. “Do you know how fucking crazy this skirt has made me all day?”

  She shook her head and pressed herself closer. “No,” she said, rubbing her thighs together.

  His fingers bunched the soft material higher and higher, until his hands landed on totally bare skin. “Oh, fuck. Tell me you’re wearing panties.”

  Her nails lightly scratched down his back, and even over the T-shirt, it set every one of his nerve endings alive. “Thong.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his fingers finding and tracing the thin silky line downward, to where her cheeks met.

  Emilie moaned. “Derek,” she said, her hips jerking toward him.

  “What, baby?” He massaged and lifted the round globes of her ass, allowing his fingers to inch closer and closer to her heat with each teasing squeeze. He licked up her neck. “What?”

  “I know we don’t have time,” she whispered as she pressed herself backward toward his exploring fingers.

  “Time for what?” he asked, kissing up over her jaw and claiming her mouth again. The pads of his fingertips caressed her opening.

  “Oh,” she moaned, her face a mask of pleasured torment. “Time for you to get inside me.”

  Fuck. That.

  In a few quick moves, he pushed her from between his legs, crossed to shut the door, and plastered her front against the window looking out over a vast black nothingness.

  “Oh, God, oh, God. Hurry,” she whined, helping him tug up her skirt and push down her thong.

  Marz tore open the front of his jeans and shoved down his boxers, and his cock spilled out in his hand, long, hard, and inked with the heavy black lines of two Chinese characters. “Fuck.” He pulled back and his muscles ached at the retreat. “Do you have a condom?”

  Emilie pointed behind them. “In the floral bag in the suitcase.”

  He tore open the zipper, and a whole lot of condoms spilled out. He’d have to ask about that later. Right now, he was all about tearing the wrapper open and rolling the rubber up his length. And then he was back against her heat again, his weight pushing her up against the glass. “Are you sure, Emilie?”

  “Never been more sure in my life,” she said, peering over her shoulder.

  On a groan, Marz penetrated her opening, gliding all the way home on one long, slow thrust. She was so wet it was a fucking dream, and the tight heat of her made him tune out everything else. He didn’t hear the rain battering the window. He didn’t feel the weight of the ticking clock. He didn’t know anything except his cock inside the tight welcome of her body.

  “Oh, Derek. Yes, yes, yes.”

  His balls already ached with heaviness, and he bit down on the tendon that sloped upward to her neck. Her cry made him harder, and he reached around to the front of her dress and tugged at the neckline until he freed her breasts to the glass. “I’m not going to be able to go slow, Emilie. I’m strung too tight for wanting you.”

  “Do it,” she rasped. “Take me however you want.”

  “Oh, baby. Hands on the fucking glass.”

  The speed with which she moved to comply untied the last string of his sanity. He gripped her tightly, one arm around her shoulder, the other around her belly, and let himself loose.

  He took her in a series of hard and fast strokes, just bottoming out inside her before he withdrew to the tip. His hips slammed against her ass, creating a delicious sound like a well-placed spank. Over and over and over.

  “Aw, God, Emilie. Take my cock. Take all of me.”

  In time with his frenzied thrusts, a constant stream of moans ripped from her throat. Half-formed whispers spilled from her lips. “Yes, yes. God, yes.”

  Need clawed down Marz’s spine. “I.” Thrust. “Can’t.” Thrust. “Get.” Thrust. “Deep.” Thrust. “Enough.” He yanked her hips out from the glass.

  Emilie’s fingers raked at the smooth surface, and her breath fogged the window. She chanted his name like it was the air she breathed, and it shoved him closer and closer to the edge.

  “Tell me you want me,” he rasped, biting down on her neck again. And God did he love the way she writhed and whimpered at the bite. “Tell me you need me. Tell me you love having me buried inside you.”

  A fast nod, and pleading eyes peered over her shoulder. “Want you,” she said on a rough exhale. “Need you. Love your cock inside me.”

  The words sent a rush of pressure to his balls. God, he wasn’t going to last much longer.
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  “Right hand. Rub yourself. Make yourself come while I fuck you.” His hips flew against her, the hard, fast rhythm starting to tire his right thigh, but it was so fucking worth it.

  She moved immediately, her right hand dropping between her legs. “I’ll do anything for you,” she said. “God, I’m so wet.”

  “Jesus, Emilie. Stroke yourself. Just the way you like it. And know you’re gonna make me come so fucking hard.” His orgasm barreled down on him like a semi and nailed him in the back, sharpening his thrusts and burying him deeper inside her. “Ah, fuck, coming.”

  “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Just like that. Hard,” she said, her words almost a babble. And then they cut off, she held her breath, and her core fisted around his cock.

  “Yeah, baby, yeah,” Marz cried, his release erupting in a series of almost painful spasms. He shook and shuddered against her, fucking her through both their orgasms until her white-hot channel stopped milking him.

  His knees almost gave out.

  Hers definitely did.

  Marz pulled her into his arms, nearly carrying her to the bed, where he sat on the edge and lifted her into his lap. She curled into his chest and neck, her breasts still heaving in exertion, and it was the sweetest fucking thing. God, she felt so freaking right there. In his arms. Against his heart.

  And they were both nearly fully dressed. Her outfit was askew and her thong hung around her ankles, and his jeans hung around his thighs, only baring his hips and ass. And yet it had been the most mind-blowing sex he’d ever had. Because she knew who he was—his weaknesses, his losses, the kinds of bad things he was doing for what he believed, to the bottom of his soul, were pure, good reasons—and she still wanted him, still needed him, still accepted him.

  “Talk to me, baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

  “That assumes I’ve regained the ability to perform that particular function,” she said, soft laughter in her voice. “Jesus, Derek, that was so, so good. I don’t think I have any bones anymore.”

  “I know just what you mean.” But the clock was striking midnight for them, and their stolen moment was about to turn into a pumpkin and some mice on the side of the road. “I hate to rush—”

  “We have to go. I know.” She reared back and met his gaze. “Oh, my God. Do you think your friends will know?”

  Marz tried to hold back his reaction. He really fucking did. But a grin that big wasn’t staying under wraps. “Probably. And now they’re all a bunch of jealous bastards.”

  She slapped his chest and buried her face. “Oh, my God.”

  He was having none of it. Tipping up her chin, he arched an eyebrow. “No shame, Emilie. Not for this.”

  “No,” she said. “Never for this.”

  They made quick if somewhat wobbly work of putting themselves back together, and then Emilie zipped up her suitcase.

  “So, uh, big plans?” he asked, pointing at the spilled condoms before she’d finished closing the bag.

  Emilie rolled her eyes and smiled. “My best friend Kelly told me to be bold and be prepared.”

  Marz laughed. “I like her already.” And then he pulled Emilie in for one, last, searing kiss. The kind that had his body stirring already again despite his utter exhaustion.

  Then he grabbed her suitcase for her and they made their way downstairs. Where there was a whole lotta staring off at the ceiling, faking napping, and whistling going on. Fuckers.

  Marz cleared his throat. “We ready or what?”

  The harassment was immediate. “Oh, like we’re the ones holding up the show,” Easy said.

  “Y’all need a couple more minutes?” Shane asked. “Round two?” Emilie buried her face against Marz’s arm, but her shoulders shook hard.

  Wet from head to toe, Beckett folded a towel over the back of a chair, flicked out the last few lights, and stalked toward the door, passing Marz and Emilie at the bottom of the steps. “Fly’s open,” he said, not even making eye contact.

  No, it wasn’t. Marz wasn’t falling for that shit. Still, he walked out the door with a big-ass grin on his face, because he had his best friends around him and his girl on his arm. And for this minute in time, that was enough. To him, that was fucking everything.

  Chapter 21

  A horn blared, jarring Emilie awake. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. But they’d been sitting still in nearly stopped traffic so long that the steady drumming of the rain on the roof of Shane’s truck had lulled her into unconsciousness.

  “Have we moved much?” Emilie asked Derek, lifting her head from his shoulder. They were sitting in the backseat, with Easy on her other side.

  “No,” Derek said, kissing her forehead. “Road’s closed ahead. There’s a huge accident. Like, ten cars.”

  She looked out the windshield to the watery sea of red taillights ahead of them. It was the worst storm Emilie had seen in a long time. When they’d come across the Severn River Bridge on Route 50, the wind gusted so hard that it had shoved Shane’s truck into the next lane more than once.

  Shane turned in the driver’s seat and held up his smartphone, an image of a map on the screen. Almost every road was depicted in red. “Traffic’s like this everywhere. At this rate, we won’t get home til the middle of the night.” He lowered his phone and rubbed his eyes. “I should call Nick and let him know where we are.” He put the cell to his ear and waited. “Hey, man.” Pause. “We’re all fine, but traffic’s at a stop with this weather. We’re gonna be a while.” Pause. “Aw, hell. Really? Well, after driving in it, I guess I can’t blame them.”

  “Bad news?” Beckett asked when Shane hung up.

  “The other Ravens couldn’t make it with this weather. They’ll be down tomorrow,” Shane said.

  “That’s a bummer, but it’s only a matter of hours,” Derek said. Murmurs of agreement went around.

  Speaking of phone calls, Emilie should call her mother. But a part of her just wanted to get where they were going and have a few minutes to collect her thoughts before placing the call. She also didn’t really want to have it in front of all the guys. Not that they didn’t know what she’d have to say, but because she thought it was more respectful to her mother. No doubt the others would be able to tell how upset Mama was from her side of the conversation, and Emilie didn’t feel like that should be up for general consumption. Instead, she shot off a text for now: I’m fine but am stuck in traffic with this storm. Will call you in an hour or two. xo.

  Message sent, Emilie snuggled closer into Derek’s side, and he released her hand and put his arm around her shoulders. Just what she needed. And after what they’d shared in her bedroom, she really wanted this closeness with him. God, Derek could be funny, he could be sweet, he could be sexy—and holy freaking crap, he could fuck. The rough, rasping, dirty talk streaming from his mouth might’ve gotten her to orgasm all on its own. She pressed her lips together tight to keep from grinning.

  A half hour later, traffic started to move. After crawling for nearly forty minutes, they were diverted off the highway altogether onto a much smaller four-lane commercial strip.

  “Oh, God. This road’s busy under normal circumstances. This is going to take forever,” Emilie said. Traffic moved so slowly that it took them eight changes of the stoplight at the end of the exit ramp before they got through.

  “Anyone else hungry?” Derek asked.

  The guys all chuckled. “Leave it to you to bring up food,” Beckett said.

  “Every time,” Easy said. The car crept forward a few feet at a time.

  “What?” Derek asked. “Tell me your asses aren’t hungry.”

  “Of course, we are. But you’re always the first one to bring it up.” Beckett looked out his window and then tapped his finger against the glass. “We could run for the Border.”

  “Aw, yeah,” Derek said, peering out the window.

  Smiling at Derek’s reaction, Emilie leaned closer to Easy to see what Beckett was talking about. All she saw was—hell to the no. �
�Please tell me you’re not talking about Taco Bell.”

  “What’s wrong with the Bell?” Derek asked.

  “Generations of my ancestors are rolling in their graves at that question,” Emilie said, unable to keep from smiling at his mock-outrage expression. “Besides, I have some great leftovers if you’re in the mood for Mexican.”

  “Yeah, but they’re in the back of the truck,” Derek said, rubbing his stomach. Thankfully, Shane had a cover for the truck bed or all her belongings would be floating back there by now.

  Emilie chuckled. “All right, I’ve registered my protest. Do what you have to.”

  It took Shane almost fifteen minutes to get over into the right-hand lane and reach the entrance to the restaurant.

  Emilie scanned the shopping center on the far side of the parking lot behind the Taco Bell for other places to eat, but almost all the businesses were dark. And then her eyes settled on the green-and-red neon sign of the Courtyard Marriott. “I have a crazy idea,” she said as Shane pulled around the restaurant. “How long have we been sitting in traffic?”

  “Over two hours,” Shane said.

  “Before you pull up to the drive-through, hang on a minute,” she said. The truck rolled to a stop and Shane looked over the seat. “How much longer do you think it’ll take to get back to Baltimore?” Emilie asked. “Another two hours? More?”

  Shane nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Emilie pointed out Easy’s window and smiled at each of the guys. “Why don’t we just stay at a hotel tonight? Courtyard Marriotts always have those restaurant areas where they serve breakfast in the morning. There’ll be a microwave. We could have our very own feast and get out of this traffic and weather. I mean, get food here if you really want to, but we could take it to the hotel.”

  “Homemade trumps fast-food every time,” Derek says. “So it sounds pretty damn good to me. And, honestly, I wouldn’t mind stretching my leg.”