by Rose Lange
“Fuck off, Mike.”
~ ~ ~
After a fruitful, and fairly comfortable, eight hours working alongside Patrick, he’d invited her over his place for dinner. Emma dashed to her bedroom after work, quickly changing into jeans, a white lace camisole, and a light sweater.
Grabbing her coat and purse, she paused at the door and put on her teal flats.
Arms crossed over her chest, Sarah propped against the kitchen counter. “So, should I wait up for you?”
Emma shook her head. “I’ll be home well before dawn. No worries. We’re just having dinner.”
“Have a good time, but just in case, I won’t wait up for you.” Sarah tossed her a wink before Emma made her exit.
She double-checked her text messages for his address. He lived in the apartments overlooking Lake Michigan near the Summer fest grounds.
Fifteen minutes later, she arrived and made her way toward the entrance. Keys jingling like a bell in her shaking hand, she pushed the buzzer.
All things considered, her rattled nerves and damp palms did not make sense.
“Come on up.” His voice came from inside the box, jarring her reverie.
Arriving at her destination, she knocked then waited.
He opened the door and her mouth dried up.
She didn’t think it was possible for Patrick to look any sexier, but he’d proven her wrong in his simple attire. A plain white T-shirt and baggy sweatpants that hung loosely around his hips. His hair in a semi-wet, semi-combed state. He’d most likely come from the shower.
Patrick. Naked, wet, and in the shower, his eyes closed against the spray. The water sliding down his arms, chest, and ass before landing into his perfect . . . The delicious images made her salivate.
“Would you like to come in?”
His question pulled her out of her wicked thoughts.
God, she hoped he was not a mind reader. “Yes, thank you.”
The smell of charcoal, hamburgers, and French fries wafted through the air. The patio door that led out to the balcony was partially opened, where the grill still smoked. On the stove was a tray of baked homemade fries.
“Wow, looks great, Patrick.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Thanks, hope you’re hungry.”
“Starved.” She removed her jacket and hung her things on the coat rack next to the door.
After walking toward the patio, she leaned against the doorjamb, admiring the sky and setting sun. Tinted colors of purple, pink, and orange blended with the blue sky.
“This is a very nice place you have here. The view is just amazing.”
He smiled. “Thank you. You ready to eat?”
Emma made her way to the kitchen island, where a hearty hamburger and a plate of fries sat between them. Not hesitating, she dove in.
“Would you like something to drink?”
She nodded and swallowed her bite of food before answering, “Yes, a beer would be nice, thank you.”
He retrieved two icy cold Miller Lite beers before making his way back to her side.
“You made this yourself?” she asked, liberally dipping a fry into a pile of ketchup.
“Yep.”
“You’re a great cook, I must say.”
He laughed. “Thanks, even if my culinary experience is limited, I somehow get by with a few basics.”
After dinner, and after the sun had long set, she made herself comfortable on the large, brown leather sectional sofa. Earthy and masculine, with mostly brown, black, and gray hues, his décor was comfortable, well worn, and lived in. She relaxed against the back of the sofa, curling her legs underneath her bottom.
Patrick took a seat next to her and grabbed the remote control. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Anything, I’m not picky.”
Because there was nothing else of interest on, they decided on a CSI episode. She enjoyed the show in moderation and got slightly squeamish during the more graphic portions. Settling in, she grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it over her legs.
“Comfortable?”
She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
During a commercial break, he got up and headed toward the kitchen.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked.
“Sure, a water would be fine.”
He came with back with her water in one hand, and another beer for himself. Then he settled next to her until their legs nearly touched, but the combined layers did nothing to hide his heat.
Pushing the thought aside, she took a sip of water, and set it back on the coffee table.
Training her eyes forward, she put all her focus there, watching calmly until the music cued drama was around the corner. A graphic scene played out of someone being murdered, and game over. She lifted the covers to shield her eyes, and within moments, Patrick wrapped his arms around her. Her covered face lay nestled between the crook of his neck and shoulders.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. Is it over?”
A low rumble of laughter vibrated against her. “Yes, it’s over. I can change the channel if that would make you feel better.”
Uncovering her eyes, she shook her head. “No, no really, I’m fine, only a little squeamish at times.”
Not removing his eyes from her, he reached for the remote, and pressed the mute button. Silence drowned out the chatter and intensified the pace of her heartbeat.
Not knowing what possessed her, she grasped his cheek and caressed the day-old stubble. The texture invited her in, as she traveled lower, until she met the adorable cleft in his chin, before moving to his lips and stroking his lower lip back and forth.
She repeated the motion several times before she moved to the base of his neck. With great care, she took her time and caressed the smooth skin there. Every last feature of his face she’d memorized, and she could never tire of touching him. The passing years had not made a difference. He still had the ability to quicken the pace of her heart and make her knees turn to liquid.
Her lips parted as she finally risked a glance at him. She found his eyes trained on her, the desire evident as he continued to study. He didn’t speak as he gently withdrew her hand. In that same reverent manner as always, he grazed over her lower lip before sliding his hand behind her head and drawing her closer.
Then, finally, his lips landed on hers.
Chapter 10
He couldn’t take it anymore.
The way she’d looked at him. The way she’d not so innocently caressed and stroked his face, lips, and neck. The way she’d covered her face in the first place, her warm, supple, lovely curves, feeling wonderful against him.
God damn it.
He grunted in response, drawing her closer as her tongue sought entry. This woman brought out the beast in him. He cradled the back of her head and wrapped his other arm around her waist. The blanket fell away as, without warning, she straddled him.
Shapely legs, curves, and a mass of blonde hair enveloped him. Eager hands grasped either side of his face, caressing him with soft, perfect fingers. The stirrings of an erection reminded him to slow down even as he tried to rein his desires in.
There was no warning as she nipped him behind his ear, and damn, her warm, sweet breath. Luscious breasts pressed into his chest, and his resolve gave way.
Almost as if some invisible force was at work, he cradled the back of her head in his hand and recaptured her mouth, tasting the sweetness he’d craved ever since he’d laid eyes on Emma again. Awakening feelings he’d buried long ago.
Emma was his forever drug of choice.
She moaned into his mouth as he teased the end of her tongue with his. He couldn’t stop. Her mouth tasted like honeycomb. He wrapped his arms around her waist before lo
wering them to her ass. He brought her against him, and, changing their positions, neatly pinned her to the couch.
Reluctantly, he pulled away, only to have quite a sight to behold.
Her skin, flushed and rosy, mouth parted. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, gifting him a view of delicate cleavage. The sunshine-yellow sweater played off the flaxen hues of her hair, strewn over the couch. Her eyes bespoke of desire and longing.
An angel. He held an earth angel in his arms. “Patrick—”
Choked up, he could barely breathe, let alone speak. She’d stolen his breath, and yet he loved the feelings she evoked. Razor-sharp edges of jealousy scraped at his insides. He couldn’t picture another man in her arms. Shit. He’d break his neck, because Emma was his. Damn. He was falling for her, and it scared the living daylights out of him.
Dashing the jumbled thoughts away, he scattered kisses along her cheeks, chin, and jaw line.
It proved to be his undoing, and he continued his sensual exploration. Taking his time, he’d moved to her collarbone, when suddenly, she sat up, pulling the sweater off and over her head.
“There, that’s better,” she murmured. “By all means, please continue.”
He chuckled, loving the vixen she played behind closed doors. The side of her nobody else would ever get to see. This train of thought filled his being with greed as he focused on her camisole, easing first one, and then the other strap down.
Never breaking eye contact, she pulled the camisole down until it wrapped around her waist and revealed just the right size, melt-in-your-mouth breasts. Fuck me. She wore no bra. Dusky nipples and creamy fair skin greeted him. He couldn’t take his eyes away at the overwhelmingly sensuous sight.
With renewed hunger, he suckled on her breasts, and hadn’t realized how hungry he was. The tips were like pure heavenly honey in his mouth, and he wanted to be in a sugar coma. Gently, he bit the tip with his teeth, eliciting a groan from her, only spurring him to triple his efforts. “Damn it, Emma. You taste so fucking sweet.”
He laved the globe with his tongue, nipping at the bud with his teeth, suckling, and bringing himself to the very brink of no return.
She embedded her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. That was the final straw. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to be inside her, one way or another. Sliding one hand down her belly, he undid the fastenings of her jeans and eased his fingers into her panties, inserting first one, then another finger inside her.
Her moans filled the now-silent apartment, as he discovered she was already wet and ready for him. Rubbing her clit with the pad of his thumb, he used gentle, easy strokes, wanting this to last as long as possible.
Goddamn it, his dick was ready to combust within the restricting confines of his jeans, but he wanted to focus on her pleasure, not his. He enjoyed seeing her this way as he stroked and teased, until her body arched beneath him and he was ready to throw in the towel. So close to taking her to his bedroom, or hell, making love to her right there on his couch.
“Patrick. Yes, yes, more.”
Continuing to tease her folds, he covered her mouth with his, and swallowed her moans. Her tongue enticingly dancing with his, the kiss hungrier, dirtier, as though she wanted to take everything. As though this would be their last kiss. Her passion only inflamed his, as he continued fondling the nub between her legs. His other hand cupped one of her breasts, tweaking the nipple with his fingers until it beaded in his hands.
“Patrick, I’m so . . . close . . . so close—”
An annoyingly sharp knock at the door broke the erotic spell, and she sagged against the couch.
“Now who the fuck is that?” Patrick asked his voice laced with irritation.
Damn, and honestly, that word didn’t even begin to cover it. The heat coursing through his veins threatened to swallow him whole, like a snake feasting in the jungle.
Awkwardly, he withdrew from Emma, seeing sexual frustration cross her features. He watched her make short work of gathering her things then making her way down the hall.
He hung his head, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Second door to the left,” he offered.
Another, more persistent knock further irritated him.
Patrick begrudgingly went to answer his door, first stopping to wash the essence that was Emma off his hands.
He opened the door, revealing Mike on the other side, a knowing smirk on his face and a small overnight bag in hand.
Guess having sex tonight is out of the question. Damn Mike.
“Well, you have some lousy fucking timing, bro,” Patrick said. “How did you manage to get in?”
Mike grinned. “Pizza delivery guy. What is it, you got a woman here or something?”
“What’s up?”
“I need a place to crash. They’re fumigating my apartment complex. Do you mind?”
Hell yes. He minded. A lot.
As he allowed his brother entry, shutting the door behind him, Emma came back into the room, looking no worse for the wear. Her hair swept up in a ponytail and her clothes put back together. A telltale flush graced her cheeks an adorable shade of pink. His heart did a somersault at his feet, knowing he’d been the one to put that flush there. He had to say, he loved the hell out of that.
She met his gaze and pure heat flashed within the deep-blue depths.
Damn Mike and his lousy timing.
“Emma, this is my brother, Mike. Mike, this is Emma.”
Smiling warmly, she shook his hand and they made small-talk for several minutes.
Then she smiled at Patrick, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Damn, but he itched to be that hand. The strong urge to touch her early overwhelmed him.
Jesus H. Christ, get a hold of yourself!
“Mike, it was lovely meeting you. It’s getting late, Patrick. I’m going to head home.”
He nodded and tamped down his disappointment. He was going to miss her. He enjoyed having her in his apartment.
“I’ll walk you to your car.” He put his sneakers on, and they made their way down to her car in silence.
As they stood beneath the parking lot lights, she leaned in and placed a hand to his chest, meeting his gaze head on. “I had a very nice evening, Patrick. Thank you for a lovely dinner.”
“You’re welcome. I did, too, Emma.”
Drawing close, she placed a salacious kiss to his lips, caressing his tongue with hers, as though she couldn’t get enough. The mere thought made his being burn. Then, she backed away, got in her car, and drove off.
He watched her disappear from view then headed back inside and upstairs, knowing a fair amount of good-natured ribbing would ensue.
Mike sat at the kitchen table, having made himself right at home, nibbling on leftovers. “This Emma. Is she the co-worker you’ve been mooning over?”
Ignoring the statement, Patrick went to the fridge and grabbed another beer. Emma’s heated kiss still thrummed through his veins. The woman could light him up nobody else could, and he knew it would be a very long night, indeed, especially with his brother staying the night. He cursed Mike’s lousy timing for the millionth time.
“Yes, she’s my co-worker. Why?”
Mike arched a brow. “She’s cute. Is she single?”
Patrick set his beer down on the counter with a loud thud. “Let’s get this straight right now. Emma is off limits, understand?”
He couldn’t help the hard edge out of his voice, and, he needed to get a grip.
His brother waved him off, grinning like a sly cat. “Just checking.”
~ ~ ~
You need to get your head back on straight.
Emma shook her head and blindly turned off the buzz of the alarm, using more force than needed. She couldn’t help it. Frustration, desire, and anger made the
helpless alarm an easy target.
Last night’s couch play had thrown her for a huge loop. If Patrick’s brother hadn’t shown up when he did, she’d have . . .
In a fresh burst of energy, she popped out of bed. She needed to put her mind back together. Maybe last night’s interruption needed to happen. Because lately the man had her thinking more with her lower half than her head.
Her history with men had been, in a word, rotten.
Patrick already betrayed her once, and she’d never learned her lesson, because eventually, Luke happened. She’d opened herself to love, and it made for burn number two.
The past now repeating itself, as she’d already allowed Patrick in, and knowing it could one hundred percent kill her.
She wouldn’t survive the third time around if things went south.
No, I can’t let that happen again.
She could not allow another man to swoop in and destroy the sense of normalcy she’d only recently regained.
With this renewed sense of vigor, she readied for the workday ahead.
In back of her mind, she wondered how the hell she would explain the sudden line she wanted to draw. How she would fight the way she felt about him? Especially after these last few days, and last night.
That’s it. I’ll act as naturally, and professionally, as possible.
She had to be mature about this and get her head on straight, because damn it, she was not a young, naïve college girl anymore.
~ ~ ~
Patrick waited in the conference room, nursing his second cup of coffee. His foot tapped the floor a hundred times a second as sheer anxiety danced through his veins.
Anxiety over what exactly, he wasn’t sure. All he knew for sure was last night he’d not only been frustrated for obvious reason, but because his feelings for Emma intensified.
His daydreams scattered when he spotted her walking across the lobby and toward her office. An amazing teal-colored wrap dress hugged her generous curves. Her hips swayed back and forth, and her nude stilettos elongated her legs. Everyone else in the background faded.
