by Rose Lange
“You look—wow—damned good tonight, Emma.” His voice traveled straight to her core.
“Thank you, Patrick.” She kept her tone calm and moved her gaze forward.
They arrived at their destination, a lovely little Italian restaurant overlooking the Milwaukee skyline. He withdrew his hand, although the memory of his touch remained a warm, satisfying imprint on her skin.
If she didn’t gather her hormones, it would be a long and uncomfortable night, indeed.
~ ~ ~
Fuck. Patrick couldn’t keep his eyes, or his hands, off Emma. The moment he’d turned around at her apartment and caught her bold stare, he knew the woman would kill him.
And that little black dress, lacy, off the shoulder, hugged curves, and a shapely derriere to perfection. All the way the way up, showcasing the barest hint of cleavage, down to lovely legs in black stiletto heels. His blood thundered, and it would be a tall order to keep his thoughts from wandering to dirty places, all the places he longed to see.
Damn, but the way he’d caught her staring, openly appraising, and biting that sexy, plump lower lip of hers . . . Thinking God knew what, but by the look on her face? It wasn’t the least bit pure.
His mind conjured an entirely too appealing fantasy of taking her back to his apartment, laying her on his bed, stripping her bare, and making sweet love to her. His entire body on fire for Emma, and the knowledge that she wanted him, too, did nothing to help his situation.
Whoa, boy, get a hold of yourself or you won’t survive the evening.
Within moments, they were seated outdoors under a gazebo. Warm air blew her blonde tendrils around her face, as it fell in pretty waves around her shoulders. She looked so lovely that he had difficulty removing his stare.
The waitress gave them menus and a couple glasses of water before allowing them a few moments. He made short work of looking it over, just as the waitress came back to take their orders, and they were alone once more.
“So, tell me how the last few years have treated you, Emma.” He took a sip of his water, needing a distraction. Because let’s face it. Emma was one hell of a distraction.
She fidgeted with her water glass before she met his gaze. “Well, I was dating a guy for a couple years, but, we ended up separating.” Her next words were directed toward the table. “He cheated on me.”
He felt sucker punched and couldn’t fathom someone hurting Emma in such a way.
Patrick didn’t know who this asshole ex-boyfriend was, but he knew for sure. If he had the chance to do it all over again, he’d make it right, and wouldn’t have disregarded her. He’d treat her like the goddess she was.
Even if he was curious, and knew there was more, reading by her body language, he would not delve further.
He noted her fidgeting, fingers fumbling with the napkin on the table, and eyes down cast in shame. As if for some reason she thought her ex had every right to behave that way.
“I’m so sorry, Emma. He was a fucking fool.”
She raised her eyes toward his, a small smile gracing her lips. “Thank you, but it is what it is. What about you, Patrick?”
Taking a few sips of water, he gathered himself before speaking. “I haven’t had too many relationships since college. Nothing serious until I met Laura.” He winced slightly when her name crossed his lips.
“Oh?”
“We were engaged and had a baby on the way. Laura, and the baby, were killed in a car accident by a drunk driver.”
She gasped. He could almost see the moisture gather in her eyes, which was something he didn’t want: anybody’s pity.
The waitress brought the meals, and he was thankful. Perfect timing, because God, he hoped she didn’t ask any more questions. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss it.
He didn’t want to talk about the beautiful day as they drove to the baby shower, and how he’d been holding her belly, felt their baby kicking only seconds before the truck slammed into the passenger’s side. The pain was something he’d done a good job of stuffing down, and buried in the depths of his broken, hollow soul.
As if to read his mind, she somberly nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that, Patrick.”
As if she sensed his discomfort, she let the subject drop and began discussing other things.
They spent the rest of their time talking about work, college, and future plans. He could read the relaxation in her body as the night drew on. She leaned back in her seat, laughed at his jokes, and listened to his stories. She’d also ordered a third glass of wine, and it proved distracting. The more she drank, the gigglier she became. The graceful, alluring expanse of her neck conjured an image of Emma in the throes of passion. Her neck exposed to his greedy lips.
He cleared his throat to push away the maddening image.
When they’d finished, he grabbed the check, and an idea hit him.
“How would like to take a walk over by the pier?”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
~ ~ ~
Stuffed, and a little too delirious from the wine, he parked the car moments later, and they exited.
The clear night’s balmy breeze was pure heaven against her skin, as the inky blue-black sky showcased twinkling stars.
“I had a nice time tonight, Emma.”
“Thank you, Patrick. I did too.”
As they made their way to the pier, she leaned against the railing and crossed her arms. She kept her stare toward the darkened water, watching boats bob up and down, swaying against the rippling waves. Her mind recalled his discomfort for part of the dinnertime conversation. She could read it in his body language. She understood. He had a wound he’d rather have left alone.
Shaking the dark thoughts loose, she observed the beautiful moon, high and full as it hung in the night sky, casting a beautiful mirror against the water.
Aware of his nearness, she kept her eyes averted, and knew if she turned her head, she’d come face to face with him. The thought scattered goose bumps across her arms, and she nonchalantly brushed them away.
“Cold?”
“Just a little.” She lied, too ashamed to admit the real reason.
He removed his jacket, and she turned toward him, allowing him to drape it over her shoulders. His scent surrounded her. Old Spice, cologne, fresh laundry, and Patrick, a heady combination she found completely irresistible.
Her mouth parted as magnetic, beautiful emerald greens drew her in, and he continued holding her gaze. She felt wanton, carefree, but desperately wanted the night to end with a good morning. Even as dark memories of her past loomed, she dashed them away.
“Is that better?” he murmured.
Her mouth felt dry, like parchment paper sitting out in the sun. “Much,” was all she could manage, licking her lips in a vain attempt to draw moisture.
Moonlight and Patrick was an intoxicating combination.
His eyes drifted toward her mouth, and he placed a finger underneath her chin, tilting her mouth toward his. She leaned closer and took the unspoken invitation. Thankful for the shadows of the night, she pressed her body against his, and claimed his lips. Wrapping her arms around his neck, he continued to tease. His mouth hungry against hers, and she decided right then and there.
His kisses would kill her.
Chapter 7
His desire spurned her further as she greeted his tongue with hers, swallowing one of his groans. She plunged her fingers in his hair and greedily twirled the thick texture, drawing him nearer.
One strong hand cradled the back of her head, while the other rolled down her body. He took his time, gliding effortlessly over lacy material and the small of her back. Then, he grasped a handful of her bottom and squeezed. The absolute least favored part of her, she stiffened slightly in his arms.
He paus
ed, the motion drawing his attention as her eyes met his.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Shaking her head, she felt foolish, “It’s nothing. I, just, don’t care for that part of my body.”
He frowned and only squeezed harder. “Why is that?”
She couldn’t believe he was going to make her say the words out loud. “Because it’s too big?”
He didn’t offer a response right away, but instead he moved both hands and rested them on said body part. Giving both cheeks another good squeeze. She sucked her belly in as he pulled her tightly to him, evidence of his need, rock-hard and ready between them.
“Well, I beg to differ, sweet, Emma. I’ve fantasized what that ass looks like bared.”
Weakening, she sagged into him and her lids drifted shut. He moved from her ear to her neck, nibbling her earlobe as he feasted his way toward her collarbone. The tops of her breasts were getting attention as well, and her chest heaved, as he took one in his hand, kneading the globe between powerful fingers.
If this continued a millisecond longer, she would beg him to go back to his apartment.
She opened her eyes and backed away a little.
“Patrick, we need to stop.” Again, her voice betrayed her, coming out shakier and breathier than she’d have liked.
Her lapse in judgment could have been blamed on the wine, but she knew better. Alcohol had zero to do with the languid intoxication flowing through her veins.
He paused, and even in the dark, she could see the passion burning within the green depths. He’d been just as affected as she.
Following suit, he stepped back. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll take you home.”
The walk back to the car was silent, and the drive home, even more so. She kept her gaze averted toward the streetlights that cast shadows into the nooks and crannies of the evening.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at her doorstep. Emma reached into her purse and grabbed her keys. Then she removed his jacket and handed it back to him.
“Thank you for a very lovely evening,” she said.
“You’re welcome. I had an amazing time tonight too, Emma.” He kept his distance, his hands jammed in his pockets. “I’ll see you Monday.”
Blowing out a breath of frustration, she unlocked the door and made her way inside.
~ ~ ~
Rock-hard and still turned on, he hightailed it home fast.
Whoa, there. If kissing Emma inflamed him this way, he imagined more might very well kill him.
On fire and starved, that was what she’d been in his arms. He could feel it in her touch, the way she’d greedily woven her fingers through his hair.
Disrobing, he noticed that her scent, of wildflowers and jasmine, clung to the jacket. He hurried his pace and jumped into a cool shower. Bracing one hand against the wall, he grasped his swollen dick in one hand. At the very least, it would ease his discomfort.
Moments later, he finished his business, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed naked.
The better part of the night would be spent tossing, turning, and replaying that salacious kiss over, and over, in his mind.
My God. He wanted her. Bad. He pictured a slow, methodic removal of that dress, so he wouldn’t miss a thing. Damn. How he longed to see all the beautiful parts of her that only changed and ripened for the better.
Emma brought out emotions that, honest to God, frightened him. He’d begun to feel things for her he had no business feeling.
Since Laura had passed away, he’d dated and had mostly short, brief flings. Those were only attempts to drown himself, forget his sorrows in meaningless sex. Right after she died, and dealing with the double funeral, he’d quite frankly, been a total mess. Waking in women’s apartments, and not even remembering how he got there. Sadly, not recalling much at all.
After hearing of his escapades, his brother Mike flew to Rhode Island to offer help. It had taken quite a bit of convincing, but Mike finally made him realize the gravity of the situation.
Ever since, he’d decided to go off the dating grid. Quitting sex cold turkey. That’d been two years ago, and he was doing okay, until he set eyes on Emma again.
She brought out feelings he’d not felt in a long time, and it scared him. Truthfully, he didn’t want to feel anything. Feelings led to pain.
The attraction was mutual, and tonight he’d seen it in her eyes, felt it in her passionate kisses and body language. He could imagine those luscious breasts pressed against him. Good Lord, he wanted nothing more than to take her to bed, make love to her until he was weak.
The grim reality was he could never take Emma to bed because she deserved better, deserved more than casual sex. Frankly, he wasn’t prepared to give her more. He wasn’t good at giving of himself emotionally, terrified at the prospect of losing someone again. Casual sex was all he was willing to give. He couldn’t afford to fall in love again and had no intention of doing so.
Which was why he had to try to keep his distance from her, from now on. He didn’t want to hurt her.
Only trouble was, how in hell would he stay away from her?
~ ~ ~
Emma swore she blinked and the weekend was over.
After her date with Patrick, she and Sarah did some light grocery shopping, and spent most of their time camped out in front of the TV, binge-watching Golden Girls episodes.
She enjoyed her job but the idea of facing Patrick sent a heavy dread through her.
That kiss, which replayed itself in her mind, brought about a sleepless, uncomfortable night.
Patrick is a co-worker, and you need to keep a rational mind. Put your emotions and personal feelings aside, Emma. You can do this.
A half hour later, she and Sarah arrived at the office, but she observed he hadn’t.
Thankful for the small miracle, she made her way to her own office, and prepared for the day.
She’d just finished her emails from the weekend when her gaze gravitated upward and she spotted him across the lobby. That navy-blue suit and charcoal-gray tie made him look extra delicious today, but hell.
Who are you kidding?
He looked amazing every day.
Averting her stare, she shut her laptop, grabbed her folders and notes, and made her way to the conference room.
On her trek, she paused in the doorway, observing him talking with a fellow male co-worker, letting loose a laugh that made her smile. She loved the sound, the carefree, sexy, boyishness of it. Then, she made the mistake of zeroing in on his mouth, and recalling those lips settled over her own, only the other night.
Shaking her foolishness aside, she squared her shoulders. For crying out loud, snap out of it, Emma!
She made her way to the conference room and set her things down.
Patrick’s all-male scent invaded her nostrils, and she instantly sensed his presence.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
She smiled. “Hi, Patrick.”
Seconds dragged on, as she remembered that tastier-than-hell kiss. God help her, but she wanted it again.
He came closer and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re still a fantastic kisser, by the way. I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a while now.”
Words escaped her for a moment, and all she could do was stupidly stare back at him. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that he was a hell of a good kisser too.
Talk about mixing business with pleasure. She realized if his kisses had managed to wreak this much havoc, she could only imagine him in bed. Time had only made him more delicious, and sinfully wicked.
“Thank you, Patrick.”
Then, thank God, he withdrew his hand, and stepped back.
For a few painfully silent moments, he assessed her, his he
ad cocked in just that way, as if he tried and read her thoughts, but failed. “Okay. Let’s get to work then.”
~ ~ ~
Later that evening, she sat at the conference room table, rubbing the back of her neck to free a kink. She blew out a breath, as they’d made wonderful progress on their work.
She was tired, but satisfied, and it helped that time had flown quickly. A few people still worked beyond the room, but not many. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was a bit past 5:30.
“Are you hungry?” he asked from across the table.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Would you like to order in, have dinner here?”
Emma shook her head. “Better yet, why don’t we order out and head back to my apartment? How does that sound?”
His natural smile made her stomach flutter.
“That sounds good to me.”
Forty-five minutes later, they reached her apartment, bags of Chinese and briefcases in hand.
After unlocking her door, she set her things down and removed her shoes. “Sarah’s housesitting for her brother tonight. Make yourself at home.”
Although just why she mentioned that they had the apartment all to themselves mystified her, she shrugged it off.
If she were being honest with herself, the starvation wasn’t for food. Only one dish sounded alluring tonight—Patrick, served on a silver platter, sunny side up.
Goodness, but her imagination carried her away. She flicked the annoying thoughts aside and focused on her task. Getting out a couple plates and forks, she made her way to the living room, where he already made himself at home. His jacket lay on the couch and he’d undone his tie. It hung loosely around his neck. Papers, notebooks, pens, and highlighters scattered all around them.
