Run To You (Puppy Love Romance Book 2)

by Georgia Beers

  “Me?”

  “Yep. This way, there can’t be any complaining about me rigging things.”

  Emily squinted at her. “You can’t rig a word search.”

  “My sister says differently.”

  With a chuckle, Emily moved to the couch. Catherine followed and they each sat against an arm, their legs tangled together as they faced one another. Emily flipped through the pages before a title caught her eye.

  “Oh, this one. Wines and Vines. Page 119.”

  “That’s the one?” Catherine adjusted her position, seemed to wiggle her butt more comfortably into the cushions, and pushed her glasses up her nose with a finger.

  “That’s the one. Are there rules?”

  “Not really. It’s a word search. Find all the words. First one done wins. Pretty basic.”

  “Okay. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Their gazes held and that sizzle zipped between them again, causing Emily to break out in a grin. “Go.”

  There was little sound in the cabin. The soft Christmas music played a piano version of Silent Night and the fire crackled cheerfully. Every so often, the sound of a pen circling a word could be heard, but with the exception of the wind that had begun to pick up, the cabin was quiet. At one point, Emily looked up and caught Catherine gazing at her with such a weighted look on her face, it was all she could do to keep from diving across the couch to touch her.

  “Stop that,” Emily said quietly.

  “Stop what?”

  “Looking at me like that. I think you’re trying to read my mind to help you find words because you’re worried I’m kicking your shapely ass.” Catherine grinned at her as Emily continued. “So just stop. My brain is like a steel trap and you cannot pry your way in with your Jedi mind tricks.” She pointed her pen at Catherine. “I see what you’re doing. Not happening.”

  “You see what I’m doing?” Catherine asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Huh. That’s weird then.”

  Emily narrowed her eyes. “What’s weird?”

  Catherine gave a nonchalant shrug. “It’s weird that you don’t know I’m done. Or that I’ve been done for the last three minutes and have just sat here looking at you.”

  Emily paused her pen in mid-circle. “You are not done.”

  Catherine turned the book around so Emily could see a black line drawn through every word listed at the bottom, and a mess of circled words crisscrossing all over the puzzle.

  “Give me that,” Emily gasped. She grabbed the book out of Catherine’s hand while Catherine sat there looking far too self-satisfied. Emily matched each crossed-off word to each circled word before looking up in disbelief. “You finished.”

  “I did.”

  “I’m not even halfway done.”

  Catherine made a face that said, “Sorry, Charlie,” and shrugged again. “Told you I was good.”

  “This is impossible.”

  “The evidence says otherwise.”

  “I may have to side with your sister on this.”

  Catherine tried to feign being insulted but ended up laughing instead.

  “Although she didn’t really seem to like me,” Emily amended, recalling Thanksgiving. “She might not want me on her team. Hmm.” She pursed her lips, pretending to be deep in thought.

  “Well,” Catherine said as her book hit the floor, followed by her pen, then her glasses. She changed her position so she was on her knees and crawled her way to Emily where she grabbed Emily’s book, then her pen, and sent them both the same way her own had gone. “Luckily, I like you.” She brought her face close, so close to Emily’s, until they were breathing the same air.

  “You do?” Emily whispered.

  Catherine nodded and whispered back, “A little bit, yeah,” just before crushing her mouth to Emily’s.

  That was pretty much the end of any slice of self-control Emily had managed to hold on to. And God, it was such a relief to let it go. Wrapping her arms around Catherine’s body, she pulled her down, wanting nothing more than to be completely covered by her, to feel her heat, her weight, her want. They kissed like there was no tomorrow, like this was it, their very last night on earth and they wanted everything from each other. Everything. Emily had never felt such a drive to strip somebody naked and she had to consciously tangle her fingers in Catherine’s hair, in her shirt, to force herself to slow the pace. Catherine’s tongue was doing unspeakably wonderful things in her mouth, and if Emily had burst into flames right then and there on the couch, she wouldn’t have been at all surprised.

  Her earlier thought came back to her then, echoing through her head. I cannot wait to get my hands on this woman. She knew then that it was okay to follow through, and she found the hem of Catherine’s shirt with her fingers. The skin of Catherine’s back and sides was warm and smooth and soft and Emily let her palms just wander all over it for long moments, nearly bursting with aroused desire. Her hands seem to move of their own accord as they stopped at Catherine’s bra, flipped the clasp open, and circled around, palming both breasts at once and tugging a moan from deep in Catherine’s throat that had Emily’s bikinis instantly wet.

  Zeroing in on Catherine’s nipples, Emily lavished attention on each, pumping them with her fingers and thumbs, causing Catherine to push her knee hard against Emily’s center, a gasp ripping from her own lungs. Unable to maintain the slowly torturous pace any longer, Emily pushed up, taking Catherine with her until Emily was in a sitting position, Catherine straddling her lap.

  “I need to see you,” Emily whispered, surprising herself by gently and calmly undressing Catherine from the waist up, pulling off her two shirts and then her bra, rather than simply ripping them from her body—which was what she really wanted to do. Once Catherine sat there, her upper body completely bare, Emily took a moment to just look, to simply gaze upon this gorgeous woman, to remind herself how lucky she was to be able to touch, to hold, to kiss her. But only a moment; she wasn’t made of stone after all. Wrapping her arms around Catherine’s torso, she pulled her close and took one breast into her mouth, sucking greedily, hungrily, using her teeth on the erect nipple until Catherine gasped and her fingers tightened in Emily’s hair as Emily moved on to the other breast.

  And then Catherine pushed and Emily found herself on her back again, all control effectively torn from her hands as Catherine’s tongue reclaimed its rightful place in her mouth and her hand slid up under the front of Emily’s sweater, kneaded her breasts through the fabric of her bra, first one, then the other, back and forth until Emily felt as if she was wearing no bra at all, as if there was no barrier between Catherine’s hand and her own sensitive skin. She wrenched her mouth from Catherine’s when she thought her lungs might explode from lack of oxygen, but that only forced her to look into Catherine’s blue eyes, dark and clouded with desire. They held hers as Catherine toyed with Emily’s nipple, stared as Catherine’s fingers forced reactions from Emily, made her breath hitch, made her swallow hard, none of it within her control. Catherine had all of it, every last molecule. If she’d told her to, Emily would have gladly quacked like a duck if it meant Catherine would keep touching her.

  Emily’s breast still in her hand, Catherine whispered, “Can we move this over there?” She shot a look over her shoulder.

  “To the fireplace?” Emily asked. At Catherine’s nod, she grinned and said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

  They moved quickly, Emily grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch just in case. Once on the rug, she didn’t allow Catherine any time to react before she recaptured the reins, crushing their mouths together and pushing Catherine onto her back.

  There was something sensual and indescribably sexy about the way the firelight played over Catherine’s bare skin. Shadows combined with a soft orange glow to highlight the peaks and valleys of her body. Emily pushed up to her knees and gazed down on this gorgeous woman as she slowly unfastened her jeans, slid the zipper down, grasped the waistband. She tugged t
hem off, taking her time, letting her fingers linger on the skin of Catherine’s legs as she freed each foot and tossed the pants at the couch. Catherine lay there now in only a pair of simple hot pink bikini bottoms and Emily was certain she’d never seen a more beautiful sight. She drank it in, let her eyes roam, committing every inch of Catherine’s body to memory.

  She reached a hand out, stroked her fingertips over Catherine’s stomach, which made her flinch and chuckle. “Ticklish,” she said as explanation.

  Emily smiled at her. “So noted.” Her eyes never leaving Catherine’s, she hooked a finger over the elastic of the bikinis on one side, then used the other hand to do the same thing on the other side. Catherine propped herself on her elbows and held her gaze as she lifted her own hips slightly and Emily slid the underwear off, sent it to be with the discarded jeans.

  And now Emily had all of her. All of Catherine. Laid out before her, naked and aroused, flushed and wanting. Her full lips were parted and glossy, and her chest rose and fell more rapidly than normal. Their eyes stayed locked for a long moment before Catherine reached up with both hands and whispered, “Come here.”

  Emily obeyed, wanted to cry with joy as Catherine’s legs parted to allow room for Emily’s hips to settle there. Unable to wait one second longer, Emily devoured Catherine’s mouth with her own, taking and giving, pushing and pulling, wishing and expecting. So lost in the kiss did Emily become that it took her a long moment to recognize that Catherine had unfastened her jeans and was pushing at them, her angle making it impossible for her to get them past Emily’s hips.

  Pulling back, Emily grinned at her. “Did you want something?”

  “Yes. I want these off.”

  “Demanding.”

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Emily swallowed back the desire that surged up into her throat, then kicked off her pants more quickly than she ever had in her life. When she looked back at Catherine, she was smiling widely.

  “That was impressive,” she said.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Emily whispered back to her before silencing her with her mouth.

  Emily had never experienced anything so sexy, so sensual, so arousing in her entire life as lying in front of the fire, naked, with Catherine Gardner. Catherine’s knees pressed against her hips, her hand was in Emily’s hair, her other hand sliding up and down Emily’s back, a finger dipping lower every so often. Catherine’s full breast in Emily’s hand was mind-blowing—how was that even possible?—and Emily couldn’t get enough. She wanted to speed up and slow down. She wanted to have Catherine—to taste her, to push her higher, to send her over the edge—and she wanted to savor her, take her time, take forever, just touch her skin, kiss her mouth, push against her wet heat.

  But waiting was no longer an option. Emily could feel the urgency now, tried to fight it, but was powerless. She wanted Catherine. She wanted her. Now. Unable to stop herself, she lifted her weight up onto her knees a bit so she could slide her hand between their bodies. With no warning or preamble, with no exploration or preparation, she pushed her fingers directly into Catherine’s center and two things happened at once. Catherine gasped and then whimpered, and the hot, slickness of her closed around Emily’s fingers instantly. The combination sent Emily’s own arousal through the roof and she surprised herself by making her own sounds of joy and desire. She braced herself on her free hand, above Catherine, looking down on her gorgeously flushed face, on her heavy, darkened eyes, and held her gaze as she moved inside her, slowly out, slowly back in, shocked by how wet Catherine was for her, by how desperately she grasped at Emily with both hands.

  They moved that way for long moments before Emily kissed Catherine slowly, drawing out every moment of arousal she could, then ran the very tip of her tongue down along Catherine’s throat, between her breasts, over her stomach and around her belly button, down to her very center. One hand on Catherine’s thigh, Emily pushed it, opening her as far as possible, before she buried her face, her mouth, and made love to Catherine slowly, precisely, erotically. She tasted every inch of her, salty and sweet, swiped her tongue through the folds, drank from Catherine’s body until she was writhing beneath Emily, soft pleas tickling Emily’s ears, fingers flexing and opening in Emily’s hair. Catherine picked up Emily’s rhythm and soon they were rocking together, gently, but in perfect sync, Emily’s fingers still inside, her other arm stretched up so she could toy with a nipple, which seemed to send Catherine impossibly higher.

  And just when Emily was sure things couldn’t get any sexier, Catherine sucked in a huge breath and let out a low, steady moan, one hand closing on a handful of Emily’s hair and pulling her face in tightly against her center, the other, clamping around a chunk of the blanket from the couch, hips lifting off the rug as Emily fought to stay with her. She stopped stroking, but kept her tongue firmly pressed against Catherine for long moments, feeling her heartbeat, feeling the muscles contract rhythmically, until Catherine slowly lowered herself back down to the rug and her fingers began to relax.

  Gently, Emily took her mouth away. When she began to withdraw her fingers, Catherine clamped her hand over Emily’s. “No. Stay. Just a little longer?”

  Emily smiled. “As long as you want.” Catherine’s legs dropped down straight, as if she had no control over the muscles any longer and the bones had simply flopped to the floor. Emily laid her head on Catherine’s thigh and just looked at her, her vantage point allowing her to see the smooth stomach, the gorgeous breasts, nipples still very erect, the chest rising and falling at an almost normal rate now, and that face. That beautiful, hard-to-read face.

  “Do you realize you have perfect breasts?” Emily asked quietly.

  Catherine’s body moved as she chuckled. “They’re just regular.”

  Emily lifted her head. “Um, no. I beg to differ. They’re perfect. Not too big, not too small. Nipples of exactly the right sensitivity. Smooth skin all around. They don’t get much more perfect than yours.”

  Catherine reached for her, ran her fingers through Emily’s hair. “If you say so.”

  “Oh, I do. And I know these things.”

  “You’re an expert, are you?”

  “More like a connoisseur.”

  “I see.”

  Emily pushed herself up—careful to keep her fingers deep inside Catherine’s warm body, absently thinking she may never want to leave there—and braced herself so she was above Catherine, looking down at her face. “Know what else is perfect?”

  “What?” Catherine asked quietly, blue eyes darkening again already.

  “Your mouth.” Emily brought hers down onto Catherine’s in what was intended as a soft and gentle kiss, but which rapidly turned hot, and within minutes, Emily’s fingers were moving inside Catherine again, a new surge of wetness coating them.

  “God,” Catherine moaned, breath ragged. “How did you do that?” Breath in, breath out. “Again?” Breath in, breath out. “Already?”

  “You fit me,” Emily said by way of explanation. And it was true. Their bodies fit alarmingly well together, like they were supposed to be this way.

  Catherine was rapidly approaching climax again, Emily could tell by her breathing, by the way she moved, by the sounds she made, and it thrilled her that she knew this information, that she was privy to something so few people on earth got to witness. “But…it’s your turn now,” Catherine managed even as she gripped Emily tightly, squeezed her eyes shut, and rocked with her.

  “We’ll get there,” Emily assured her, pushing deeper, using her thumb to stroke the warm, wet flesh. “I’m not worried. I’ll have my turn.”

  And she did.

  Twice.

  It was almost five hours later—nearly two in the morning—before they finally called it a night. Emily managed to summon enough energy to stoke the embers in the fireplace and add a couple logs before she fell down next to an already crashed-out Catherine because her rubbery legs wouldn’t hold her up any longer. She pulled the blan
ket up around them, put her head on Catherine’s shoulder, and threw a leg over Catherine’s thigh.

  With a long, deep, very contented sigh, Emily happily relaxed and followed Catherine into slumber.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CLARK BRECKENRIDGE WAS IRRITATED.

  And he was irritated about being irritated because it was so rare that he was irritated. But today? He was irritated.

  This hadn’t been a great year for him. He was starting to wonder if people just didn’t get him. His mother seemed to have less and less patience with him lately, and that was new. He’d always been her golden boy, the child who could do no wrong. He’d always been the favorite. No offense to his little sister, but it was the truth. Parents never admitted to having a favorite among their children, but they absolutely did. It was just something that wasn’t talked about in the open. Clark knew.

  But over the past six or eight months, his mother had begun looking at him differently. Literally differently. He could see it in her eyes when she turned to him. That glow she used to get when she gazed his way had dimmed considerably, and he wasn’t sure why or how to get it back. All he was sure of was that things were different now and he didn’t like it.

  Sliding his Ray-Bans on even though there was no sun, he squinted a bit until his darkened view cleared. It was snowing gently, but he knew it was going to pick up again. His head pounded lightly now, thank God. It had been bad when he’d opened his eyes two hours ago. He’d tied one on last night (but man, that blonde was so worth it), so much so that he wondered if he was still a little bit drunk. He felt fine behind the wheel and just vowed to pay close attention to the speed limit and stuff. As long as he didn’t get pulled over, he’d be fine in an hour or so. Grabbing the handful of Motrin he’d tossed into the cup holder of his Benz, he tossed them into his mouth and chased them with a huge swallow of lukewarm coffee.

  Thoughts drifting back to his mother, he replayed the conversation he’d overheard her having with one of the VPs of the company, John Callen, the other day.