by Lee, Nadia
The song was sweetly romantic and slow, probably in honor of Sam and Fiona’s anniversary. We held each other and swayed. Emily smelled like citrus and mint and something warm and sweet, like honey. My heart was pounding so hard that I wondered if she could hear it over the music. She looked up at me despite her heels. Her usually sharp eyes seemed gentler somehow, without their customary edge. Leaning over, I crooned the lyrics into her ear. The heat from her body burned me. My mouth was close enough to her ear to graze the delicate shell, and she shivered. She angled her head, and her lips brushed mine.
Everything except the song and her seemed to melt away. We kissed each other softly, just a cushioning of lips. The touch was so erotic that it left me dizzy, my senses spinning. She tasted like the beer and spices and all Emily. That smart mouth. That take no prisoners attitude. I wanted to take her to bed, make her feel great. Show her I could give her the kind of night she deserved.
We continued to sway to the music, brushing our lips and sharing the air between us. She licked my mouth, then blinked, pulling back a little. “Can we tell Mir we’re leaving early?” Then she flushed. “Tell her I have a headache.”
For a second, I froze, trying to process what she’d just said. Then lust shot through me like lightning, obliterating everything but the need I had for Emily. Although my dick was painfully hard, I almost laughed. That was what women usually said when they didn’t want to have sex. “Right now?”
“Yes. And see if she can get a ride with somebody. No point in cutting her evening short.”
“You got it.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Emily
“Your place or mine?” I said when Killian pulled into the cul-de-sac. Then I smacked myself mentally. What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking at all. I couldn’t. “Actually, mine. We don’t need Mir walking in.”
“She’s spending the night with Yve.” They actually had been planning a sleepover. “You have condoms?”
“No.”
“Then mine.”
“Okay.” I hadn’t thought as far as condoms, and it would’ve been disastrous to start and then have to stop because of a lack of latex.
My blood had been simmering the entire short drive. If Killian had put on music, I didn’t notice. All I knew was that I actually ached between my legs.
I’d never felt that before. I thought it was something that only happened in romance novels. Hell, I’d written it into my books, because I figured it would hurt to want so much but not have it, even though I’d never experienced anything like that.
Killian’s car screeched to a stop in front of his house. I stepped out immediately, not wanting him to waste time trying to be a gentleman and open my door. He fumbled with the key to unlock the door to his place. I stood behind him and touched him, needing the contact, then ran my mouth along his bulging triceps. We needed to be inside for what I had in mind. It wasn’t my idea of fun to get arrested for indecent exposure and whatever obscure decency laws were still on the books in the state of Virginia. Although this area was secluded, it wasn’t gated, and you never knew who might be around to call in a complaint.
The key turned and he went in, reaching back to grab my hand and pull me along behind him. Once we were inside, he turned around. I looped my arms around his neck and claimed his mouth, all aggression and lust.
He tasted so damn good. Felt so damn good. All those lean muscles I’d been secretly eye-fucking every morning pressed against my torso, crushing my breasts. Damned bra. It was in the way.
Actually, everything we had on was in the way.
Killian kissed harder, his tongue gliding into my mouth. I met it with my own. His erection pushed against my belly, and I groaned. I needed it if I wanted the aching emptiness between my legs to go away.
“Upstairs. To the bedroom,” I said. Not necessarily because I needed to be in bed for this, but because I felt like a bed would more appropriate than the living room floor for our first time. Besides, I knew I’d insulted him with my “ten minutes” comment. I didn’t want anything to remind him of that and ruin what could be something amazing.
“Okay.” Killian picked me up, his muscles tightening around me. I wasn’t a tiny waif, and the strength I felt in his body stoked my desire. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he carried me up the stairs to his bedroom. With every step my pubic bone rubbed against him, and I was going out of my mind before we even got naked. The notion was unsettling but also too exciting. This must be what the prelude to “earth-shattering sex” felt like. And I knew Killian would give it to me, because he could and because he wanted to make both of us feel amazing.
We fell on his bed. He put his hands on both sides of my head so he didn’t crush me, then fused our mouths in a lush kiss. I clung to him, my fingers fumbling and pushing his shirt up. He yanked it over his head and tossed it away before kissing me again. His hands skimmed across my dress, his fingers exploring and making my body tingle everywhere. I reached over to the side and pulled the zipper down, so I could get out of the obstructive thing.
He undressed me, pushing the dress down, past my hips, then tugged at my thong and took everything all the way down my legs and let it drop by the bed. His eyes took me in, and for a second, I felt awkward and exposed. Was he disappointed that I didn’t have a perfectly toned body? Clothes cover up a lot of flaws. I wondered if I shouldn’t have eaten or drunk anything at the bar so my belly would look flatter. But then he let out a soft groan like he was looking at the sexiest damned thing in the world and couldn’t bear it, and my reservations melted away faster than a snowflake in Singapore. He unhooked my bra; I shrugged out of it, letting it fall on the floor. Heat flushed my skin, pooling between my legs as his eyes darkened.
“Take off your pants,” I demanded, my breathing uneven. My chest rose and fell, and his gaze went to the tips of my breasts. “Now,” I said before he got even more distracted.
His eyes on me, he disposed of the rest of his clothes and shoes, and then he was on me. His mouth, his tongue, his hands. He kissed me everywhere, touched me everywhere, leaving trails of fire on my body, making me weak and needy and desperate. I clung to him, my legs wrapped around him, as hot streaks of pleasure sizzled through me, leaving me dizzy and wet.
He touched me like he’d die without me, and he devoured my lips like I was the only one who could satisfy his hunger. It made me hot for him. But it wasn’t just lust I was feeling. There was a softer and sweeter edge to everything that made what we were doing more than just a rush to mutually satisfying orgasms.
He massaged one breast, and I arched my back. “More,” I said, panting.
A low, wickedly masculine chuckle tore from his throat as he took my breast into his mouth and sucked. Oh my God. I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him there. He nipped me, and my pussy clenched so hard that it almost hurt.
“Now, Killian. Inside me now,” I begged, but he merely moved further down, his tongue laving my belly, leaving wet trails along my breasts and below. He was driving me crazy. Why didn’t he want to plunge into me? Any of my exes would’ve done that by now, but not Killian. It was as though he had a destination in mind that would require a different route.
He reached for my hands and linked our fingers. Our palms pressed together and seemed to throb.
My thighs went over his wide shoulders, seemingly of their own accord, and his mouth closed over the flesh between my legs. Holy…! Heat blossomed in my gut, and the ache I’d been feeling since the moment he sang on the stage was more like sharp pain now. I’d felt how hard he was, and he must want to be inside me, but he took his time, bringing me to a climax with his mouth.
I sobbed softly, his name on my lips. I wasn’t used to this kind of tender but hot sex. Or the care and attention he lavished on me, making my heart flutter for reasons that had nothing to do with the orgasm I’d just had. He pushed me again, but it didn’t take much effort for another orgasm to shatter over me, my spine bending, my arms taut,
and my fingers tightening between his.
But I wanted more—to feel him inside me. I wanted to be as intimately connected as possible, to see pleasure break over his face as he moved inside me, making both of us feel incredible.
He shifted. I heard a something tear, and then he was back, settling between my legs. I cupped his cheeks then pulled his face down for a kiss. His mouth was slick against mine, tasted intimately like me and him.
He drove all the way in with one smooth stroke. I shivered, my moan caught between our lips. He felt so good, so solid, so hot. He was aggressive, slightly out of control, and I loved watching him lose himself in me, pleasure playing over his face, sweat beading on our skin as lust heated our bodies.
“You feel so fucking tight. Shit,” he said between clenched teeth.
I laughed breathlessly. “And you feel huge. I love it.”
He cursed, then thrust faster and more roughly. The added stimulation flung me into another climax, and I came hard around him, my inner muscles spasming. He plunged in and out, his jaw bunched tightly. I put a hand over the tense muscles, then dragged my fingers all the way down to his chest, where his heart raced. I pulled him down to kiss him deeply, to show how much I loved this moment with him…how much I’d like to see him let go. When I came again, his entire body clenched, a shudder going through him as he joined me in orgasm.
I held on to him, waiting for our breathing to even out, our hearts to stop galloping. He kissed me tenderly, his lips on my forehead, the corners of my eyes and the tip of my nose and my chin. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he licked my ear.
Something sweet and languid swelled in my chest, stealing my breath. He said the words like they were the truest thing in the world, and I felt like the most beautiful person on Earth.
“I know,” I said, feeling too happy to be modest or argue. “So are you.”
With a small laugh, he kissed me. “And we’re going to make beautiful love all night long.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Killian
I stretched, still slightly bleary, sleep clinging like cobwebs. It was still early, just a sliver of light coming in between the bedroom curtains. Emily was sleeping, curled up, hugging one of my pillows, her face buried in it.
Should I wake her?
The bedside clock said it wasn’t even eight. And she could use some extra sleep, because I’d kept her up late. We’d used up a lot of condoms. Yeah, no Mr. Ten Minutes here, I thought. Ahh heh heh heh.
I put on a pair of boxers, brushed my teeth and went downstairs to get some water. My mouth felt dry and dehydrated. I made it a habit to have at least two bottles of water after I sang, but last night I’d skipped that. I’d had a more pressing matter, namely, having Emily.
I took a few sips and sighed. It was already almost mid-April. Not even seven weeks remained before I had to go to Dallas, and I didn’t want to leave Emily behind. Would it be too early to ask her to consider coming with me? I hadn’t seen her hang out with anybody or mention any close friends in town. So maybe she’d be okay with it.
On the other hand, what if she had a specific reason for being in Kingstree and couldn’t go to Dallas?
Long distance was an option, but not a great one. We’d be too busy, and I didn’t want to waste time traveling back and forth between Dallas and Kingstree when we could just be in the same city.
And…Emily could write in Dallas just as well as she could in Kingstree, couldn’t she? If the logistics or cost were a problem, I’d pay for all the expenses and arrange for movers. All she’d have to do is grab her laptop. I’d make sure it’d be as easy and seamless as possible.
The door to the house opened with a quiet creak. Mir walked in, still in her dress. Her face was cleaned of makeup, her hair messy and uncombed. Shit, I thought with a small sigh. I was hoping Mir would stay with Yve a little longer. Until lunchtime at least, catching up and doing what best friends did when they had a sleepover.
“Hey,” she said, walking in. “Got some coffee?”
“Not yet.”
She gave me a weird look. “What happened to you? No coffee in the morning?”
“I just got up.”
“Wow. You slept in.”
Mir and I were both early risers.
“It was a late night,” I said, feeling slightly pleased about the reason.
Grunting, she went over to grab the TV remote.
“Hey, don’t turn on the TV,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Emily’s sleeping.”
She blinked slowly once, then put both hands over her mouth. “You slept with her?”
I gave her a look reserved for a particularly dim child. “Yesss. Both of us consenting adults consented to sex.”
Mir covered her eyes. “Oh my God. I so do not want to hear about your sex life.”
“Hey, now it’s your favorite author’s sex life, too.”
Her face scrunched even worse. “That doesn’t make it better! But wait… Does this mean I get to read her books before other people?”
“I make no promises. She hasn’t let me read her latest book either,” I said, not wanting Mir to bug Emily about that. I honestly had no idea what Emily’s process was, but she shouldn’t have to show her stories to anybody until she was ready. And part of me wanted to be the first to read her new books, except maybe for her editor.
“Oh. Well. I’ll figure out an angle. I got time…” Mir suddenly studied me, her gaze flinty. “Did you tell her you don’t live here? That you have to leave soon? You have both of your expectations about this relationship clear, right?”
“Jesus, Mir. It’s not a job position.”
“I’m pretty sure I know what kind of position it is.”
I had to laugh. “You’re acting like I took advantage of some high school girl or something. Emily’s a romance author, for God’s sake! She knows what we’re doing.”
“But you figured out how not to break her heart, right? I mean, she isn’t one of your groupies.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” And for making me sound like an asshole. Breaking hearts was what Dev did, not me. I resented Mir’s narrow-eyed gaze. Just whose sister was she? She wasn’t getting any more backstage passes, damn it.
“It’s important. One of my favorite romance writers never finished her series because her husband left her. I don’t want that to happen to Emma Grant. I mean, Emily.”
I paused for a second. I hadn’t considered what a breakup might do to Emily’s mindset or her career. Dev had been out of control after the things went south with Ashley. On the other hand, Ashley cheated on him, and I had no intention of cheating on Emily or doing anything to hurt her.
I always went into a relationship with a positive outlook. What was the point, otherwise? So I hoped that things worked out between me and Emily, but if they didn’t… Well, we could end it amicably. We were both adults.
But why was Mir acting like it was inevitable I would screw something up? Didn’t she know me better than that?
“First of all, I’m not her husband. Second, she isn’t writing a series. So you won’t be left hanging,” I pointed out sarcastically, too annoyed to let Mir know about my decision to ask Emily to come with me to Dallas. Besides, Mir didn’t get to hear about it before Emily.
“Didn’t you see her shirt from yesterday? I don’t want her to write angsty stuff. I already have my favorite angst romance authors.”
“Mir, not everything’s about you and what you like to read. It’s about who I want to be with, and who Emily wants to be with. And she’s been with other men before, okay? She kept writing her books when they broke up, so I’m sure she isn’t going to quit writing, regardless of what happens. She’ll be fine.” But even as I said it, I was vaguely annoyed. I didn’t want to think about Emily’s previous boyfriends. I also didn’t want to think about what would happen if Emily and I broke up… And I most certainly didn’t want to imagine how incredibly fine she was going
to be on her own again.
For some bizarre reason, I wanted her to feel a little sad. At least wistful. Regretful. Realize she’d never have a better stud in the sack again.
It was immature as hell, but I couldn’t will myself not to feel those things. Damn it.
“Fine,” Mir said. “I’m just going to have some ice cream,” she groused, walking past me to the freezer and opening the door violently, like she was taking it out on the poor appliance. “You don’t have a single tub of Bouncy Bare Monkeys?”
Because Emily has all of them. And I had already eaten the two tubs she’d given me, which were extra delicious. But I didn’t to tell Mir that. “Why don’t you go to Sunny’s and see?”
“Fine, fine,” she said, and left with her key.
Knowing her, it’d take at least an hour or two to finish the ice cream run because she’d want to say hello and gossip with everyone. She was one of the most social people I knew.
I drank some water, then stared out the windows over the kitchen sink. I didn’t like what Mir had insinuated—that I would break Emily’s heart or that I’d hurt her so badly that she wouldn’t be able to write. My sister should know me better than that.
But my gut twisted with something that felt like anxiety, as I wondered what Emily thought of me…and if she shared the same opinion as Mir.
Chapter Thirty
Emily
I blinked, then slowly turned and stared at the unfamiliar pale green ceiling. The walls were the same color. And the sheets were soft cream. The other side of the bed was cool to the touch. Killian must’ve gotten up. He was such a morning person. Cheery, too. Those weren’t huge pluses in my book. People should hate getting up in the morning and be grouchy until they’d had at least two coffees.
But he made a great breakfast. And he was fabulous in bed. On balance, that more than made up for the cheery early-riser thingy.
Since my bladder was declaring a state of emergency, I used the bathroom, then rinsed my mouth with some minty mouthwash that was on the counter. The mirror showed a slightly reddish mark on my collarbone, where Killian had bitten me last night. My cheeks flushed. Holy shit. I had sex with a rock star.
