“Emma.” He closed his eyes. “I do want you.”
“Well, that’s enough for me.”
“Is it?” He looked at her, reached out, and his fingertips brushed her face with infinite tenderness. “Because it might not be for me.”
He leaned down, and claimed her mouth with his.
Chapter 6
Nick was drowning, and he no longer cared if he sank completely. He’d probably sealed his fate the moment he kissed her. But he couldn’t stop now if he tried.
Yes, he wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted anything. He’d known her less than a day, and he knew that he needed her in his life. That he could love her—and maybe he already did.
She could ruin him, and she didn’t even know it. It was a risk he was willing to take.
He deepened the kiss, plunging a hand into her silk-soft hair to hold her luscious mouth against his. Her hands slipped around him, slid up his back, and he groaned as she pressed her body to him. If he didn’t do something soon, he’d have her right here.
Drawing back slightly, he grabbed her waist and lifted her, delighting in her surprised gasp. “Bedroom,” he said. “Yes?”
“Yes.” She wrapped her legs around him. “God, yes.”
He carried her there, kissing her most of the way. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth, the feel of her against him. Part of him tried to blame the fact that he hadn’t even touched a woman in an intimate way for years, a last-ditch subconscious effort to save himself before he fell.
But it was her. Not a woman, but this woman. And he’d already fallen.
He finally made it to the bed. Her hands tugged at his shirt, and he yanked it off impatiently. She lay beneath him, eyes half-closed, hair fanned in a corona across the pillow, and she was so beautiful that for a moment he could only stare.
She smiled at him. “What are you thinking?”
“Just that you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He bent and kissed her forehead, feeling her shiver. “And I’m wondering how this happened.”
“Well, first you plied me with ice cream…”
“So ice cream is the secret?”
“To what?”
“To why you’d want a big lug like me.”
“You’re not a lug.” She reached out and traced a hand along his chest. “But you are big. And sweet, and sexy, and I want you.”
He smiled and brushed his lips against hers. “Then I’m all yours.”
* * * *
All mine.
Emma trailed her fingers down his arm, feeling all that hard muscle beneath the skin. She was torn between taking it slow and wanting all of him, right now, to relieve that delicious, aching need coiled deep in her belly.
The only thing she knew for sure was that she had way too many clothes on. Because it was definitely getting hotter in here.
She sat up slightly and slipped her shirt off. He sucked in a groan as she peeled out of her sweatpants, and silently urged him to do the same. The loose boxers he wore did little to conceal his excitement.
He reached down and unhooked her bra. “You are incredible,” he breathed, cupping a breast in his warm hand. His thumb grazed her nipple, and she gasped and bucked beneath him as it hardened instantly. Smiling, he bent his head and teased the bud with his tongue.
Then his mouth fastened on her breast, driving a burst of liquid pleasure all the way through her.
She held his head, arching against him as he teased one breast, then the other. One hand slid to his back, her nails raking him with all the force of the sensations he drew from her. He growled low in his throat, and the shockwaves intensified.
He slid an arm beneath her and locked on her mouth. While his tongue thrusted urgently, she reached down and freed his straining cock. A brief cry escaped him, vibrating all the way to her toes.
She guided him to her, slipping her damp panties aside to press the tip of his cock against her entrance. “Please,” she whispered. “I need to feel you inside me.”
He shuddered and plunged into her with a long, smooth thrust.
“Emma…” He remained motionless, buried deep as his cock throbbed and twitched against her walls. “You’re so tight,” he rasped. “So sweet. I could stay right here forever.”
She made an inarticulate sound and clenched around his thick length. He let out a liquid groan. “My God,” she said. “Your muscles aren’t the only big thing about you.”
He stroked his thumb down the side of her face, kissed her gently. Then he drew out slowly, inch by inch, until only his head nestled in her. After a trembling pause, he slid into her just as slowly.
The sensation of his cock stretching her with exquisite care was incredible—a sheer and weightless pleasure like nothing she’d ever felt before. He kept going, and the feeling grew with every long, languid stroke. She trembled uncontrollably, drawing tiny sips of air through her breathless cries, until at last the sensations gathered and burst.
She cried out as the biggest orgasm she’d ever experience rocked her body, and clung desperately to him as the pace of his strokes increased in response. Her climax had barely finished before the tension climbed again, sweet and throbbing, hotter than the sun.
He pumped into her, again and again, his breath leaving him in ragged gasps. Dimly she realized her panties had ripped with the force of him—and it only excited her more. She matched him thrust for thrust, sliding her hands along his back, urging him faster.
Finally he threw his head back, the cords of his neck straining as he let out a gusting cry. She came again as he bucked through his climax, warm and wet and breathless.
He gasped and let his head drop against her shoulder, panting. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. She smoothed his hair, resting a hand on the back of his neck, and he shivered briefly.
When his breathing evened, he rolled to the side and pulled her against him, cradling the length of her body with an arm draped across her hips. “Don’t move,” he murmured. “I changed my mind. You can’t sleep on the couch.”
She smiled and threaded her fingers through his. “Good, because I’d rather sleep here,” she whispered.
Sated and drowsy, Emma felt completely safe in Nick’s arms. And in the moment just before sleep claimed her, that was enough.
Chapter 7
Emma woke to the unfamiliar but very pleasant sensation of warm, solid flesh pressed against hers. She was grateful that Nick had held her all night, not the least because this way she knew where she was, waking in a strange bed.
Last night had been amazing. She could still feel the evidence of being loved so thoroughly, a mild, whole-body soreness and a delicious ache between her legs that left her feeling…wanted. Desirable. It hadn’t been an easy decision to see this through, but it was one she’d never regret.
But now she had to worry about what happened next. The dreaded morning after, when they’d either look forward to seeing each other again, or make awkward small talk and start drifting apart.
She knew which one she wanted. But she couldn’t read Nick’s mind.
The clock next to his bed said 5:46 a.m. Too late for her to go back to sleep, and too early to wake him if she could help it. Maybe she could make breakfast for him, since he’d been sweet enough to have her over.
She slipped carefully from under the arm that was still draped over her, regretting the loss of his warmth. Shivering slightly, she hunted around for her clothes and brought them into the attached bathroom. She dressed in everything but the torn panties, which she dropped in the wastebasket with a smile of remembered pleasure.
Nick was still asleep, so she headed quietly for the kitchen. The ice cream dishes were still on the table. She rinsed them in the sink, found some coffee in the cabinet above the machine and got a pot going, then looked in the fridge. She figured he’d like anything he had, since he was the only one who lived here.
Bacon and eggs looked like the best option. She wasn’t sure how he liked eggs, but you couldn’t g
o wrong with omelets. She pulled out ingredients, lined them up on the counter, and went to work.
Just as things were nearing completion and she was debating whether to make toast, a deep and rumbling voice behind her said, “Are all reporters morning people?”
She turned with a smile, and suddenly wished she’d stayed in bed. Nick had only put his boxers back on. Practically naked, with sleepy eyes, tousled hair and a faint shadow of scruff, he was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.
“Not all of them,” she said. “Just the good ones. I made breakfast.”
He flashed a crooked smile. “I could tell,” he said. “That’s what woke me. I smelled coffee and bacon, and figured I’d died and gone to heaven.”
She laughed. “Not quite. Have a seat, and I’ll bring you some.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” she said. “It’s the least I can do, after you let me stay here.”
“All right. It’s too early to protest.” Still smirking, he wandered over to the table and sat down with a grunt, squinting under the bright kitchen light. “How do you feel about breakfast in the dark?” he muttered. “Think I’ve got some candles.”
“Wow. You’re really not a morning person,” she said. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Hot.”
“Okay. Black it is.”
She poured the coffee and set it out first, then fixed two plates and brought them to the table. Nick’s mug was half empty already. She grinned and nodded at it. “You want a warmer?”
“Mmph.” He stared at the cup, picked it up and drained the rest without stopping. “I’ll get it,” he said. “You?”
“I’m good for now.”
He plodded over to the coffee pot. When he came back, he looked marginally awake. “Thank you,” he said as he sat down. “I’m lucky if I can manage to make a bowl of cereal in the morning. This is a gourmet meal for me.”
She smiled. “No problem.”
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Nick finished another cup of coffee, and was on his third when Emma was ready for a warmer. He cleared his plate first, and leaned back with an arm across his thigh. “Definitely the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”
She smirked. “It’s not that good.”
“It is if you consider the company.”
Heat rushed through her, and she stared at her plate to keep from ogling him. If she looked at him much longer she’d be late for work again. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said.
He cleared his throat. “So, um. You can jump in the shower here if you want,” he said. “I’m not sure what you brought over, but I have shampoo and soap.”
“Thank you, but I’d probably better go back for that.” She managed to look up and not think about Nick and showers. “I don’t think I packed the right clothes. Besides, I don’t want to use up all your hot water.”
“I wouldn’t mind. But if your shower works, that’s fine too.” He picked up his mug and drained some more coffee. “Hey, what are you doing after work tonight?”
“Hopefully I’m arranging furniture and unpacking boxes.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. My brain is out of order until at least ten.” He drew a quick breath, and said, “Want some help?”
She made herself ignore her instinctive reaction to reject the help of a big, strong man. It was easier to do this time. “If you’re not busy…I think I’d like that,” she said.
His smile was brilliant. “Then I’ll be there.”
A few minutes later he walked her to the door. She stood there with her bag, wondering how to say goodbye. Was there some protocol for leaving your neighbor’s house after you’d slept with him?
He solved the dilemma with a long and tender kiss.
When he drew back, she was almost breathless. “So I’ll see you tonight?” he said.
“Mm. Yes.”
He glanced outside, at the faint light illuminating a cloudy sky. “Looks like it might rain,” he said. “Do you want an umbrella?”
“I think I’ll survive,” she said with a laugh. “See you later.”
“All right.”
With a brief wave, she turned and headed for her house. She had a feeling today was going to be a lot better than yesterday.
* * * *
By the time Nick got to work, sheer happiness had given way to a confused tangle of emotions. Being with Emma, falling asleep with her in his arms, had been the most beautiful experience of his life. She’d even made him breakfast. For a few hours, in the safety of his own home, everything was perfect.
But out here in the real world, he was an officer of the law mixed up in an illegal activity with a dangerous criminal. And if he stayed involved with her, she could learn his secrets. Expose him. Especially if she went back to The Vault.
She might even be at risk, if Ankles Martello found out about her.
The idea left him cold. He might have already placed his parents in danger—he wouldn’t know what Ankles had really wanted until Friday night. He didn’t think the bastard would actually do anything to them. Most likely, he just wanted to make sure his investment paid off through the end. But there was no telling what he’d do about Emma.
He went through the motions. Started coffee, read through the activity log from last night, checked his inbox. If there was anything important he’d missed it, because his thoughts were churning at a thousand miles an hour.
How could he protect her, when the only way to keep her safe might be to stay away from her?
Torn and preoccupied, he didn’t even notice Dean come in until his partner drawled, “Somebody looks like they had a rough night.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he muttered. “Rough.” He pushed back from his desk and headed for the coffee machine, even though he’d downed five cups already this morning. Right now, anything was better than interacting with Dean.
But the man would not be ignored. “Didn’t have anything to do with that pretty new neighbor of yours, did it?”
Nick shot him a warning glare. “No.”
“Too bad. She’s probably looking for somebody with a little higher vocabulary than yours.” If Dean had picked up on the warning, he didn’t show it. “You know. Since she’s a reporter and all.”
“Dean.” He turned away and put the mug down slowly. Dull, hot fury pulsed through him, and he struggled to keep a lid on it. “Shut up.”
Dean laughed. The sound grated on his last nerve. “Well, aren’t you bent out of shape today,” he said. “What happened—you ask her out? I bet you did, and she turned you down.” Nick sensed him moving closer. “Maybe I’ll stop by her house tonight,” he said. “See if she needs any help getting…settled in.”
Nick whirled on him, teeth bared. His fist flew without thought. He pulled the punch at the last second, but Dean still doubled over with a barking cough when it landed square in his gut. “You stay away from her,” he snarled. “She doesn’t need your kind of help.”
“Stand down, Donovan.”
Sheriff Tanner’s voice from the back of the room startled him into focus. He backed away, horrified at his loss of control. “Shh…sorry, Dean,” he stammered. “I didn’t. Um. You okay?”
“Jesus,” Dean gasped, straightening slowly. He staggered a little and shook his head. “Where’d that freight train come from, man? I didn’t think you had the guts to swat a fly.”
“All right.” The sheriff strode into the room, glowering at Dean. “Pretty sure you deserved that, Wesley. Keep it up and I’ll let him do it again.” Then he looked over with concern in his eyes. “Nick. Could you step in here a minute?”
“Sure.”
Holding back a shudder, he followed the sheriff down the hallway and into his office, where he sat down across from the desk with a sigh. “Sorry about that, Sheriff—er, Brad,” he said. “Guess I’m just tired of his mouth.”
The sheriff smirked. “Aren’t we all.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Fine,” he said carefully.
“Promotion’s not too much for you?”
That drew a slight smile. “I can handle it.”
“Good, because Dean Wesley’s the best of the clowns and I’d hate to promote him.” For a long minute Brad stared at him—until he almost felt like confessing every sin he’d ever committed, starting with a cookie he’d stolen when he was six. Finally, the sheriff said, “When’s the last time you took a personal day?”
“Uh…”
“Don’t strain yourself thinking too hard about it. I already looked up the answer, and it’s never.” He frowned. “Maybe you should take today off.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you just sucker-punched your partner?”
He closed his eyes briefly. If he went home for the day, he’d have nothing to do but think about Emma, and the fights, and how he was completely screwed no matter what he did. He’d drive himself crazy. “I’m all right,” he said, meeting the sheriff’s eyes. “Really.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. And if I get to be not all right, I’ll go home.”
“I can live with that,” Brad said. “For the record, I have to officially state that I’ve advised you to take a personal day for stress-related reasons. You don’t have to officially accept said personal day. And I think we can leave the details off the record, for the sake of Dean’s pride.” He smirked. “Just take it easy today, all right?”
“I will. Thank you.”
Nick left the sheriff’s office no less conflicted than when he went in, but determined not to punch any more fellow deputies. He’d have to be more cautious than ever until this ordeal was finally over. His next slip-up could be his last.
And with a sinking heart, he realized that meant backing away from Emma Reid—before he could hurt her, too.
Chapter 8
Deputy's Secret (Welcome to Covendale Book 3) Page 6
