Passionate Kisses 2 Boxed Set: Love in Bloom

by Magda Alexander

  His vulnerability took the wind out of her sails. She could relate to sticking by something you decided to believe in years ago. Like not trusting a man’s promises. She’d been young when she made that promise to herself. And she’d stuck by it, even though it was hard sometimes.

  “I get it.” She covered his fist with her hand. Just because she thought it was a crazy decision didn’t mean she couldn’t respect it. “It’s important to you to be…chaste-” Her mouth paused on the foreign word. “But it’s challenging. I can understand that. You’ve disciplined yourself for so long, and you don’t want to throw it all away. I’m a little…” She stuck out her chin instead of ducking her face like she was tempted to. “Spicier than girls you probably usually date, so you’re worried it might be even harder with me than, say, Chelsea, Erin, or Mara.” She grinned, hoping he would get the light-hearted barb.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’s it exactly.” His smile was one she hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t flirtatious or smoldering or confident. It was sweet and sincere, thankful. It made her heart pump extra hard for a couple beats

  God help her. She was falling for a church boy.

  They sipped their coffee in silence for a few minutes, eyeing each other like neither of them knew what to do next. Then Emmett plunked down his mug and said, “So, what do I have to do to get off that thin ice?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you ought to run your Zamboni over it a time or two. Oh! God! I can’t believe I just said that.” She slapped her hands over her mouth, mortified.

  He laughed. “It’s okay to joke with me. I’m a virgin, not a little kid.”

  She lowered her hands. “That wasn’t just a joke. That was a double entendre, and I should have known better. In my defense, I used to hang around with a lot of pervs. If you ever meet them, don’t tell them I called them that.”

  “Deal. And seriously, don’t worry about it. It was funny. You’re funny.” He sat back in his chair looking as relaxed as she’d seen him since the morning she’d first met him. He picked up her hand and linked their fingers, resting their joined hands on his thigh. “And gorgeous. And an awesome dancer. And a really sweet girl.” He grinned. “My girl?” He made it a question.

  Her tummy tightened pleasantly. No guy had ever complimented her as much as Emmett, especially if they knew they weren’t going to be getting any. For that matter, not many had ever shown much interest in her beyond the sexual.

  It felt so old fashioned. She had a weird impulse to throw herself into his arms black-and-white-movie style and say, “Yeah, baby, I’m your girl,” but instead, she finished her coffee and said, “That depends. Can you handle me? I mean, you have to know I’m no virgin. I’m not dancing any more, but I was right up until I moved here. I did it for three years to get through school. I mean, I do like you, and I want to date you more, but we’re pretty different, you and me.”

  “Oh, I can handle you. Don’t worry about that, little girl.” He waggled his brows.

  His confidence was off the charts sexy. Her vagina contracted at his words. Shit. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  He rested one sculpted forearm on the table while his opposite thumb rubbed over her knuckles. “Now, are you going to tell me why you were sleeping in your car? What’s got you so freaked out? And don’t tell me ‘spider.’ I’m not buying it.”

  She couldn’t stop caressing him with her eyes. The man was perfectly built. His lips looked so kissable. His face was clean-shaven and begged to be nuzzled. His hair was stylishly mussed, and his eyes were tender with concern. It was like knowing she couldn’t have him made him infinitely more attractive, and he’d been damn attractive to begin with.

  She hopped up from the table like her pants were on fire. What the hell she was thinking signing on for a sexless relationship with a hottie like Emmett?

  “We can talk about my spider problem later. On the phone.” Yes, yes. The phone would be safe. She backed away from the hunk of masculinity radiating waves of sexiness from her kitchen table. “Don’t you have to go sweep?”

  He got up with sinuous grace and stalked her as she backed out of the kitchen and into the hall. She held up a hand, palm out like a shield against his sex appeal.

  He grinned like a wolf who’d spied his prey. “You’re trying to change the subject.” He reached out to her outstretched hand and laced his fingers through hers, making her breath hitch.

  Damn that little half smile of his, and double damn the twinkle in his eye that told her he knew just the effect he had on her.

  “No I wasn’t.” She kept backing up until she hit the foot of the stairs. “I was just curious. I mean, could you pick up your dry cleaning, swing by the post office, you know, get your errands done while you sweep?” With a quick motion she wrenched her hand out of his and ran up the stairs to get some breathing space.

  He gave chase and stopped her by snagging her hand again before she could retreat into the bathroom.

  “I don’t own anything that needs to be dry cleaned, and the parking spaces at the post office aren’t big enough to park the sweeper.” He drew her close and put his mouth over her ear.

  Oh, God, he smelled like heaven. She wanted to shove him into her bedroom, tear off his shirt, and lap him up.

  When his breath rushed hot over her ear with his whispered, “Why were you sleeping in your car?” she yipped and jumped back, slamming the bathroom door in his face.

  Through the door, she heard the bastard chuckle and say, “Fine. I’ll just take a look around, find this famous spider of yours.”

  “Fine. You do that.”

  “I will,” he called, and from the direction of his voice, she could tell he was going into the master bedroom.

  “Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” she muttered to herself as she locked the door and freshened up. How was she going to keep her hands off of her new boyfriend? Why had she agreed to this? Oh, yeah, because she liked him. And he liked her. And no one had ever just told her that before. Always before, it had been about games, and the prize had always been sex.

  Emmett wasn’t a player. And that was the sexiest damn thing she’d ever encountered.

  She should call this off. It wasn’t going to work.

  But that would be running away.

  Sitting on the lid of the toilet, she put her head in her hands. Dating Emmett was going to be the toughest thing she’d ever done.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After finishing up in the bathroom, Jade took a deep breath and opened the door. So far, Emmett was proving to be worth the challenge of being in a sexless relationship. Surely she could go without for the year she’d decided to stay in Vermont. Maybe it would even be good for her. A relationship with Emmett would be far from traditional, but then traditional relationships hadn’t exactly been working for her.

  Following the sounds of rummaging, she found Emmett in her closet with a feather boa around his neck and a hot-pink pimp hat perched on his head. Despite the draw of the colorful ensemble, her gaze zeroed in on his granite ass.

  Lucky damn jeans.

  “I don’t see any spiders in here,” he said with his back to her. “But, wow, cute clothes.” He pulled out a strappy, satiny shirt with a deep cowl neckline. “Wear this tonight, okay?”

  “Tonight?”

  “I’m taking you out to dinner. Got to get off that thin ice, and my Zamboni’s all locked up.” He waggled his brows. “So I figure a nice dinner ought to do the trick.”

  Wow. She was touched. She would love to have dinner with him, but she probably shouldn’t wear that shirt. A turtleneck and ankle length skirt might be smarter; too bad she didn’t own anything that modest. Seeing Emmett fingering some of her skimpy lingerie, her cheeks warmed.

  “You’re getting sweats and holey socks if you don’t get out of my closet this second.”

  He kept pawing through her wardrobe. She grabbed him around the waist and tried to wrestle him out. Without cowboy boots, he was around six-one. And he was in good sha
pe. Boy howdy, was he in good shape. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, and his muscled torso moved like a sensual promise under her hands. After much twisting, dodging, and giggling, she somehow ended up sandwiched between his hard body and the wall of the closet.

  Their eyes locked and their laughter died.

  His gaze took her breath away. It was the kind of look guys give girls in romantic comedies, but not in real life, or so she’d thought. She’d always dreamed about being on the receiving end of that kind of all-in, head-over-heels look, but she’d written it off as an impossible fantasy.

  When Emmett bent down and claimed her lips with a tender, closed-mouth kiss, she nearly moaned at the undiluted adoration washing over her.

  She’d kissed her share of men, but not a single one had made her feel half as special as Emmett did. Maybe it was because she knew his kiss wasn’t just a stepping stone to something more.

  Balling her fists at his waist, she did her dead level best not to take control of the kiss. She let him drive and trusted him to draw the line wherever he needed to.

  That was a mistake.

  His arms came around her. He backed her out of the closet and to the edge of the bed. In a heartbeat he had her on her back on the comforter and was crawling over her, nibbling her lips as if the air were poisonous and her breath the only antidote.

  She wasn’t made of stone. In her head, she knew sex was off limits, and in her heart, she was on board with that. But a lower and needier part of her anatomy was doing the thinking now.

  When his tongue sought entry, she opened to him, and the kiss grew. He settled between her legs and lowered his chest to hers, crushing her breasts until they ached to be freed and fondled. She wrapped her legs around his hips, trapping the hard ridge behind his zipper right where she wanted it.

  Oh, man. He might be inexperienced, but Emmett was bound to be a fantastic lover. For some girl. Some day.

  He groaned and broke the kiss, panting.

  Every one of her instincts urged her to reclaim that sinful mouth, but she forced herself to be still while Emmett brought himself under control. She tried to think un-sexy thoughts. It was a challenge with his erection hot and heavy against her pelvis, restrained by denim and will power.

  Holding himself a little off her, he said, “Why do I do this to myself?”

  “Why do you?” she asked. “I mean, I’m not knocking it and I’m definitely not trying to change your mind-” To emphasize her point, she wriggled out from under him and sat against the headboard, putting a good two feet of distance between them. “But what’s so great about virginity?”

  He stood awkwardly and turned away. Though he was being discreet, she could tell he was pressing the heel of his palm over his erection. It had to be agony, getting hard like that without even the hope of relieving the pressure.

  “You know I’m a Christian,” he said, half turning to see her.

  She nodded.

  “Well, a big part of that is believing what the Bible says is true. I’m not saying I’ve avoided everything the Bible says is wrong-I’ve lied before, I covet my neighbor’s forty-two-inch plasma TV, I put myself before the Lord more than I care to admit-but I’ve tried to be a good Christian. Having sex outside of marriage just seemed like one thing I could definitely control. It felt good to promise God and myself I wouldn’t, you know, fornicate. It’s been hard, but it’s helped keep me humble and keep me depending on Him more than myself.”

  He leaned on the bedpost at the foot of the bed. His cheeks were pink. His eyes shone with arousal and vulnerability at the same time. He was heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

  She resisted the temptation to look down to see if he’d fully recovered or not. “That’s great,” she said. “I’m happy for you if that’s what floats your boat.” She could respect a person who made sacrifices for what they believed in.

  “But,” he prompted.

  “But if you’re going to give me those bedroom eyes and kiss me like that, I don’t know if I can support you in this goal of yours as well as I’d like to. I don’t want to be the girl who ruins it for you. You know?”

  He came to sit with her on the bed.

  She tensed as he encouraged her into his arms, but didn’t resist.

  “You’re telling me I need to back off a little?”

  She snorted. “I don’t want you to. I like when you touch me. I love when you kiss me. But, I don’t know, maybe we need some rules or something.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a rule. We haven’t broken it yet.”

  “What do you mean, yet?” she asked, offended.

  “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s the truth. We haven’t broken my rule yet. That’s all. It’s a statement about the present with no presumptions about the future.”

  She harrumphed, but accepted he hadn’t meant to imply it was just a matter of time before she lost control and humped him senseless. She had to give it to him. He was good at calming her down when she got riled up. It was one of the reasons she liked him so much, one of the reasons she was willing to go along with this no-sex thing in order to be with him.

  “Okay. So, what’s the rule?” she asked.

  “Simple. No coming.”

  She blinked. “That’s not much of a rule. That would mean sex is fine as long as you stop before you come. Having an orgasm doesn’t make you not a virgin anymore, intercourse does. Please, tell me you’ve had Sex Ed.”

  “Uh, yeah. I know how it works, thank you very much. And my brilliant rule you so hastily dismiss has kept me honest for ten years, now. See, here’s what’s so great about it.” He sat up straighter and gestured as he explained. “Anything that leads to coming is out of the question. I know what would push me too far, and I avoid those things. No blow jobs, hand jobs, dry humping. You get the idea. No coming is like a single rule that encompasses a lot of little things, like the no-shirt-no-shoes signs in restaurants.”

  “I’m afraid to ask, but what does no-shirt-no-shoes have to do with orgasms?”

  “You know, like, you can’t go in the restaurant wearing just a shirt and some shoes and expect service. Pants is kind of implied. And you can’t go in fully dressed, place your order, and then start taking off your clothes. There’s lots of little rules that go into that one, easy-to-remember rule.”

  “You’re a freak.”

  “You know you love it.”

  She rolled her eyes, but inside she delighted in his quirkiness. He was kind of a big geek in some ways, a very sexy geek. But she had a good head on her shoulders, too, and it had detected a flaw in his “brilliant rule.”

  “Well, your simple, easy-to-remember rule puts you totally in control. Which doesn’t work very well if you take a girl past her point of no return. This girl’s going to need more rules than ‘no coming’. I know myself, and I know I’d better keep my clothes on around you. And I shouldn’t touch you you-know-where.” She looked pointedly at his crotch. “And I don’t think you should put that thing in the vicinity of my you-know-where either, whether there are clothes involved or not.”

  “Do all exotic dancers talk so dirty? Ooh, baby, put your you-know-what in my you-know-where.”

  She punched him in the arm, and she’d never punched like a girl.

  “Ow!”

  “Fine, smartass. I won’t touch your dick, and you don’t touch my pussy. Happy?”

  “Very.” He put an arm around her and jostled her good-naturedly.

  “I’m serious. I’m not used to restraint. You’re very tempting just standing there. I don’t know if you understand how little it would take for me to mess up this little arrangement we have. Just be careful with me, okay?”

  He smoothed her hair down her neck and shoulders then kissed the top of her head. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’ve been told I’m a little flirtatious.”

  “That’s like saying the Pope’s a little Catholic.” Her voice slurred a little as she relaxed into his petting. She could get used to this whole cuddling thing. Conside
ring how many guys she’d dated, it startled her to look back on her life and realize no one had ever just held her like this with no expectation of more. Clearing her throat, she said, “How have you lasted this long? How old are you, anyway?”

  He stilled his stroking and brought his hand to rest on her arm. His palm warmed her skin through her hoodie. “Twenty-seven.”

  “Jesus, a twenty-seven-year-old virgin.”

  “I’d rather you not say that.”

  “What, virgin?”

  She felt his cheek move in a smile. “No, that’s fair enough. Jesus. I care a lot about him, so if you could try not to say his name like that, I’d appreciate it.”

  She pulled back to study him. It wasn’t often sexy, confident Emmett looked anything less than sexy and confident, but this was one of those times. She pecked him on the cheek. “I can do that.”

  He turned to meet her lips with his in a quick, chaste kiss.

  “Seriously, how have you done it?” she asked in quiet wonder. Her body hummed with desire even from this innocent contact.

  “I really don’t know.” He shook his head in disbelief then opened his mouth to say something, but she had a feeling he hadn’t planned on what came out next.

  “Jesus Christ! What the fuck is that?” He shot off the bed and backed himself into her dresser hard enough to knock down the bottles of perfume with an unholy clatter of glass on mirrored glass. His face drained of color. His gaze was riveted on the open doorway.

  She looked into the hall, not seeing anything. But the room felt several degrees cooler all of a sudden. “What? What did you see?” She had a sickening feeling she knew exactly what he’d just seen.

  Emmett blinked. His gaze searched the hall before darting to her. “I think I just saw your spider.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What did you see?” she asked again, her voice shaking.

  Emmett wiped his free hand over his face. He looked as freaked as she felt. “A black shape, like a person, but not. It was there, and then it was gone.”