All I Need (Hearts of the South)

by Linda Winfree

  He could do eager and hard and fast. Slow discovery could come later.

  His lashes fell under an onslaught of sensation—her scent, her skin under his hands, the feel of her around him as she posted on him. He thrust up, letting the good leg compensate for the injured one. Please, no cramps right now, because he wanted to make this so good for her, to make it last as long as he could, even as fast as it had barreled over them.

  The uneasiness and discomfort took a minute to sink in.

  Her fingernails digging into his shoulders bordered on painful. She was tight—too tight around him, the latex abrading.

  He opened his eyes. This should be hot—easy-access clothing, the two of them too intent on each other to even remove them, and suddenly the interlude was anything but. Eyes closed, her face expressionless, she rode him with a single-minded intent. The blank slate of her face jarred him, and his hands fell from her body. No connection, no enjoyment, no desire for him. Sex with friendship was one thing. This was something else.

  He didn’t like being fucked just for fucking’s sake.

  “Stop.” The rough word hurt his throat. He caught her hips.

  She did, instantly. Her lashes flew up, concern the only emotion in her dark eyes. No passion, no desire. It chilled him. “What’s wrong? Your leg?”

  “No.” As gently as possible, trying not to recoil, he tipped her off his lap and adjusted his clothes, covering himself. Condom be damned. He’d get it later. “This isn’t working.”

  Her face closed further. “Excuse me?”

  “This.” He gestured between them. “It’s not…something’s off.”

  She picked up a pair of lacy panties in a pale blue and pulled them on before retreating to the end of the couch, arms over her chest and her whole body walling him out. “I thought you wanted this.”

  “I did. I do.” He couldn’t quite articulate what was off, and his sex-fogged brain didn’t want to cooperate in processing the experience. “Only differently. Maybe it’s too soon.”

  She slipped off the couch, her movements jerky. “I’m going home.”

  He rose, wincing when he forgot to leverage with the stronger leg. “Wait.”

  “No.” She held up both hands, palms facing him, and shook her head.

  “Savannah.” He zipped his shorts to keep them from falling about his ankles. She snatched up her phone and keys. “Let’s talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” Her tight voice held a hint of desperation. “It didn’t work.”

  “So you’re just going to walk out?”

  “I am.” She was already at the door. “Good night, Emmett.”

  The door snicked closed and he swore. What the hell had happened?

  Emmett stared at the closed door and bit back every foul word he knew. Confusion reigned, snarling his mind and gut into matching knots. How had the touching and teasing, that kiss, turned into the worst sex of his life?

  And, damn it all, he needed another shower.

  In the bathroom, he tossed his clothes in the hamper with more force than necessary. He stripped off the condom and dropped it in the waste can, then stared at himself in the mirror while the shower heated. None of it made sense.

  He ducked under the steaming spray and let the hot water work on the tension in his neck and shoulders. Maybe if he’d taken the time to touch her the way he’d really wanted, to discover the curves of her breasts, the indention of her waist, the smooth skin of her thighs and the secrets between them. He passed a hand over his head. Maybe if he’d had a chance to touch her the way she’d touched him—

  She hadn’t wanted him to touch her.

  He scowled. Did that add up, when her hands had been all over him in the kitchen? She’d been touching him from the time she arrived, right up until she’d taken him. He’d thought the caresses had been about wanting him, but hell, maybe it was really about wanting the act.

  Which completely explained the cold, clinical feel.

  The frustrated desire and confusion flared into a spurt of hot anger. He didn’t like being used. Being friends and planning to sleep together was one thing. This was something else entirely.

  Chapter Four

  Oh, that had ended well.

  Savannah fought off an urge to slam her door and made herself close it as carefully as she had Emmett’s. She dropped her keys and phone on the bench by the door and strode through to her bedroom, straight to the closet. She stripped off her dress and dropped it on the closet floor. Her panties followed, tossed toward the hamper along the bedroom wall. Anxiety fluttered in her chest and throat, and her stomach twisted.

  She pulled on her red tank suit and snatched a towel from the stack on a shelf in the bathroom. Thankfully, when she stepped outside, his door and blinds remained closed, the Adirondack empty. She really didn’t want to face him.

  Rough asphalt under her bare feet held on to some of the day’s warmth, and the gate to the swimming pool clanked in the quiet night. She went to the deep end and dove in. The cold water closed over her head, and she fell into strong, rhythmic strokes that didn’t match her tangled thoughts.

  What had gone wrong? The whole evening had proceeded as planned. Cooking had provided multiple opportunities to touch him, and he’d been receptive to her. Ultimately, he’d been eager for her. At the shallow end, she touched the wall and turned. She’d kept herself under total control, emotions locked down. Without the emotional intimacy she didn’t want anyway, her physical desire had been muted, sure, but sinking onto him had felt good and surely that pleasure would have led to some release for both of them.

  Only somehow, she hadn’t been enough.

  He was the first man to ever make her feel that way. Despite the cool water enveloping her, mortification burned her neck and face. He’d rejected her, cold, in the middle.

  Of course, he’d wanted to talk, and maybe she should have stayed to hash it out, but all she’d wanted was to retreat. Failure had never existed in her vocabulary with men, but that had damn sure changed tonight.

  And it still didn’t make any sense. He’d wanted her, or at least to sleep with her. They’d established that up front, and he’d been aroused by her touch. She knew that, could still feel how hard he’d gotten under her hand, how hard he’d been inside her. Then she hadn’t been good enough? What the hell?

  Whatever. She did not like the effect he had on her emotions, and she refused to give in to any more of this. So he didn’t want her, after all. Fine. She didn’t want to care, either.

  * * * * *

  “You already posted the schedule for next month?” Calvert’s voice pulled Emmett’s attention from the training-hours spreadsheet he was compiling.

  “Yeah.” Emmett frowned. Had he missed a protocol about when to post it? “Is that a problem?”

  “No, but…” Calvert shook his head. “You’ve been here three days, and it usually takes me a week to get that done. How’d you pull that off so fast?”

  Emmett shrugged. “I found an extension that lets me enter the shifts, who needs time off when, and where we need extra coverage. Then it runs the schedule for me. I can link names to a calendar with holidays, so like we know Khalil Williams needs the Islamic holy days off, right? It automatically schedules him off. I think it can interface with payroll too, but I haven’t had time to play with it yet.”

  Calvert grinned. “I should have hired you a year ago.”

  “A year ago, I was laid up in a hospital bed, hoping they didn’t have to amputate my leg. Probably wouldn’t have been much use to you then.”

  “You’ve come a long way since then.” Calvert rapped on the doorframe. “I like what I see so far, Beck. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Calvert disappeared down the hall, and Emmett returned to entering hours. He hadn’t been sure about the administrative tasks at first, but there was a lot to do and busy was good. Busy made him feel productive, like he wasn’t in a hole somewhere anymor
e.

  Besides, busy meant he didn’t have time to think about Savannah.

  Not during the day, anyway.

  They’d managed to go the past two days without running into one another. There’d been no texts, no phone calls. Simply silence, and after three nights of turning the mess over in his head while staring at the ceiling, Emmett didn’t know if he was more angry or hurt. A little of both, probably.

  His cell buzzed, and his gut tightened with anticipation. Stupid, to want her to be the one texting him. Wasn’t her walking away and the silence after enough said?

  He lifted the phone to check the screen. Troy Lee, wanting him to meet for lunch. They’d missed their regular Wednesday lunch after his physical-therapy appointment because he’d been trying to get his brain wrapped around everything in the office. Emmett tapped out a quick reply, saved the spreadsheet, and reached for his keys. Getting out meant something else to distract his attention from everything he didn’t want to think about.

  Just his luck Troy Lee picked the retro diner downtown, where Emmett and Savannah had gone that first night. Troy Lee and Clark were already seated when he arrived, so he couldn’t even suggest moving down the street to the Bistro.

  “Hey.” He grabbed the chair next to Clark and gestured at the empty seat across the table. “Where’s Bennett?”

  “Lunch with his wife.”

  The server appeared to take their order, although Emmett wasn’t sure why she bothered. The three of them always ordered the same items here. Ice water in hand, Emmett gestured at Clark. “How’s the ankle?”

  “Better. I’m glad I took the days and rested it.” He lifted his own glass of iced tea and grimaced. “Of course, now I’m in the bus, listening to Jim catch up on three days of bitching about what shit his life is. I almost broke down and begged Latrelle to put me on nights with Pantone.”

  “Davis would not like that.” Emmett leaned back in his chair, stretching out his leg.

  “I don’t give a good damn what Davis likes.” Clark made a disgusted sound in his throat. “We are done, man.”

  “For real?” Troy Lee’s brows dipped downward in an expression of confused surprise that Emmett shared. Clark had been seeing Davis for weeks; they’d seemed to be a good match.

  “Yeah.” The server’s approach interrupted Clark’s reply, and he waited until the young woman had settled plates and retreated before he spoke again. “The guy apparently didn’t understand that ‘I don’t feel like it’ did not involve waiting until I was asleep and half-out on pain meds to feel me up. I’m not wasting time with someone who doesn’t respect a boundary.”

  Emmett nodded. At least Savannah had recognized his and backed off. Sure, things were unresolved between them, but all he’d had to say was “stop”. She had, instantly, with her first thought for his well-being. Maybe he should relent and be the first to reach out.

  As they ate, they shared the everyday happenings and concerns of their lives—Emmett’s experiences with the new job, the impact of parenting small children on Troy Lee’s marriage, Clark’s sense of weirdness at having been shot at while doing his job. Emmett thought of spilling the whole mess with Savannah, but he wasn’t ready to go there yet.

  Near the end of the meal, Bennett strode in. Taking the seat next to Troy Lee, he set a bottled water and two headache powders on the table, then greeted the others. Unfolding the end of the paper packets, he downed both powders at once and chased them with water. A grimace twisted his face.

  “You all right?” Troy Lee flicked a finger at the discarded wrappers.

  “I forgot the cabinet door was open and came up too fast.” Bennett grimaced. “Hit my head.”

  “You’ve got a knot.” Troy Lee reached to touch the back of Bennett’s skull, and Bennett winced. Troy Lee’s familiar Cheshire-cat grin spread over his face. “The back of your neck is bruised, too, but it looks like fingernails… Oh. Got it. You went home for lunch.”

  “Shut up.” Bennett knocked Troy Lee’s hand away.

  “You might have a concussion.” If possible, Troy Lee’s grin widened, and he relaxed in his chair. “You should go to the ER.”

  “I cannot go to the ER.” Bennett laughed, then winced. He pressed a finger to the back of his head. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

  “You’re the only guy I know who turns sex into a full-contact sport and gets injured.”

  “You’re jealous because there’s no sex in your house at the moment.”

  “Wait until you have small kids.”

  Emmett tuned them out, spinning his glass in a slow circle on the tabletop. Did it make him weak if he texted her? Friends did that after a misunderstanding.

  “Hey, Emmett.” Troy Lee snapped his fingers in front of Emmett’s face. “What is with you, man?”

  “Nothing. Thinking about schedules.” Making himself crazy thinking about a woman who was supposed to be only a friend. Yeah, right. He’d never had a friend tie him in this many knots.

  * * * * *

  With the ER board clear and the waiting room empty for once, Savannah seized the opportunity to work on the implementation report SGM had requested. Her attention span left much to be desired, and she rested her forehead on her hand and puffed out a frustrated breath. Damn it, she simply could not focus, and she knew why. Unhappy and miserable she could handle, because that had been her new normal for nearly two years.

  The guilt was the real bitch.

  She propped her other elbow on the desk and buried her face in her hands. If some guy had treated Amy the way she’d treated Emmett, Savannah would be ready to cut his balls off. Besides, she might not want him to matter, but he was a decent guy and hadn’t deserved to be treated like he was nothing—an object to be used.

  She really needed to apologize to him.

  On a sigh, she straightened and fished her phone from her pocket. She tapped out a quick can-we-talk text to Emmett and sent it before she could rethink.

  The day passed slowly, with no reply. Late in the afternoon, after she’d finished treating a middle schooler who’d fractured a wrist in a fall at PE, Lorraine waved her toward the waiting room. “One of the boys from the sheriff’s department is here to see you.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to take a quick break.” She walked through to the waiting area, expecting to find Rob. Instead, Emmett leaned on the wall near the entrance. Her breath hitched as her gaze collided with his.

  Unsmiling, he straightened from the wall. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes.” Although she’d all but given up on him today, she was unreasonably pleased to see him. Warmth flushed her neck, and her pulse flickered in her throat. She cast a quick look around the nearly empty room and gestured to the walkway beyond the entrance. “Let’s go outside.”

  An afternoon breeze scattered leaves across the sidewalk. Resting against the railing, Savannah fought down a flutter of nervousness, complicated by flashes of remembered pleasure at having him inside her.

  “I owe you an apology.” The words wanted to stick in her throat. She rubbed her thumb over the metal rail, rough with flaking paint. “I was trying to deal with something, and I used you to do it. I am sorry, Emmett.”

  His face expressionless, he remained quiet a moment. He looked at his feet, then lifted his gaze to hers. “What do you really want from me, Savannah?”

  She swallowed. Trust him to cut right to the point, when she didn’t know what the point was. “I’d like for us to be friends.”

  Arms folded over his chest, he pinned her with a look. “What about the attraction?”

  Somehow, having him acknowledge an attraction still existed made her feel better.

  “We just…we deal with it.” She rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “If we decide to sleep together, okay. But I promise—there won’t be another incident like the other night.”

  He gazed at her so long she wanted to shift uncomfortably, but finally he nodded. “Okay.”

  She flicked a paint flake away with her
thumbnail. “Georgia’s playing this weekend, and I usually go to my sister’s for those games if you’d like to do that together. We have a family baby shower to attend that morning, but we could go over for the game about five.”

  “I can do that.”

  The atmosphere hung heavy and uneasy between them. She wanted to throw up. She’d damaged something precious and fine, when her life was about helping, repairing, saving. And she’d done this with her own selfishness, a trait she’d berated Amy for over and over.

  He glanced away, his jaw tightening. A muscle flicked in his jaw, and he swung his gaze back to hers. “The apology—it means a lot, Savannah. It really does.”

  She nodded, her throat too tight to speak, and he tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. A memory flashed in her mind, of the easy gentleness of a similar gesture, an easy, budding friendship, before she’d ruined it all.

  “I’ll see you Saturday.” He let his hand fall away and turned to make his way down the steps. She watched him go, remembering the feel of his lips against hers.

  * * * * *

  Subdued music and muted laughter spilled from the storefronts along Broad Street. A hint of coolness tried to dispel the day’s warmth, and the spiced scent of apple cider wafted from the cup Savannah cradled in both hands while Amy flipped through a sale rack outside an upscale boutique. Savannah tried to enjoy the evening shopping event, something she and Amy had planned for weeks, but the uneasy distance between her and Emmett kept pushing into her thoughts. The fact he occupied so many of her thoughts, that she had actually wanted him to kiss her, made it worse, deepening her irritation.

  “What is with you tonight?” Amy held up a filmy ivory tunic before the ornate mirror leaning against the brick wall.

  “There’s…” She bit the words off. Maybe confiding in her sister would help her sort through the whole mess. “I tried to sleep with my neighbor, and it didn’t work out.”