by Cat Schield
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You can’t run from this.”
No, but she could hide.
A sigh slipped from between her lips as she opened her eyes and met his gaze. The expression on his face warned her that he intended to devour her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She couldn’t. Her longing for him trapped her as effectively as the steel bars of a cage.
“Good.”
When he ducked his head, Emma watched him swirl his tongue around her breast and she arched her back, pushing into the caress, as aroused by his touch as she was by the sight of what he was doing to her.
His hand slipped beneath the elastic of her pajama bottoms. Her breath emerged in a frustrated groan as his fingertips dipped between her thighs and stopped short of where she wanted him. She pressed herself against him, gyrating in a manner that demonstrated her need.
“Touch me,” she pleaded, long past caring how smug he might be at the depth of her desperation. All pride and every hesitation flew out the window whenever he touched her.
She moaned as he obliged, her body shuddering as his clever fingers slid against her.
“Oh baby, that’s it,” he crooned before claiming her mouth again. “Let go.”
His mouth claimed hers again. She rocked against his hand, while urgent, encouraging sounds emanated from her throat. Her muscles tensed as she mindlessly sought the pleasure that danced just out of reach. Every sense was trained on the man making her body sing. She filled her lungs with the scent of his cologne. He tasted like chicken soup and peppermint tea, comforting and soothing. His deep voice, murmuring erotic suggestions in her ear, drove her crazy and made her want to laugh with joy at the same time.
And then there was the pleasure. The indescribable, building pressure that threatened to take her head off when it blew. She panted, her breath coming in irregular gasps. With his name on her lips, she climaxed. His mouth crashed down on hers, taking her cries into him, capturing her pleasure as his own.
As the fog cleared from her brain, Emma tugged on his sweater, needing the feel of his skin. He obliged her by sweeping it off. She explored the ridges and texture of his gorgeous torso. A contented purr rumbled out of her. She craved the feel of his bare chest sliding over the hot skin of her breasts.
Nathan was of the same mind, because he murmured, “Naked.” His fingers flexed into her hips, the bite causing a spike in her urgency. “I need you naked.”
“Okay.”
Something stirred in the depths of Nathan’s eyes, swirling like smoke. Satisfaction? Triumph?
While nerves fluttered in her midsection, Emma bit down on her lower lip. A low noise rumbled in his chest. Nathan bent his head, his tongue soothing the dents left behind by her teeth. Breath catching, she tangled with him in a sexy kiss that reawakened her appetite, and then groaned in protest when he tore his mouth from hers.
“This is going to happen fast,” he said, his voice dark and gritty. “Do you want it here or in bed?”
“Bed,” she whispered, sliding off the stool, only to find that her legs could barely support her.
Five
Satisfaction exploded in Nathan’s chest as Emma swayed across the meager inches between them, her fingers fanning against his bare chest. He liked how it was between them. Hot, sweaty, all-consuming and sexual. Easy to succumb. Mindless in its intensity. A feast for the senses.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and bent to sweep her feet off the floor. She gasped as he lifted her, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her liquid-chocolate eyes sought his. Despite her earlier passion, she looked somewhat uncertain. Needing to seal the deal before she had second thoughts, he turned toward the bedroom.
He’d taken one step when her doorbell rang. Nathan saw immediately that the interruption had startled the sensual glow from her eyes. A frown appeared between her finely arched eyebrows as she looked at the door. She bit down on her lower lip, even white teeth contrasting against the passion-bruised darkness of her mouth. He growled.
“Ignore it,” he said, his long strides carrying him away from the sound of the intruder.
“I can’t.”
He was within ten feet of the bedroom door when the pounding began, followed by a feminine shout.
“Emma, are you all right? I’ve been calling all day. Emma, can you hear me?”
“It’s Addison. I missed our yoga class this morning and never called her.” Emma began to squirm. “Put me down.”
Her words splashed cold water over his ardor. Muttering curses, Nathan set her back on her feet and watched in disgust as she raced to the door without so much as a backward glance. He retraced his steps at a much slower pace and scooped his sweater off the floor.
“Have you been home all day? I’ve been worried sick.” A tall, thin woman, dressed casually in ultraexpensive designer clothes and radiating intense concern, burst through the door Emma opened. With a long, narrow face, aristocratic nose and sharp cheekbones, she was elegantly beautiful. Her long, straight red hair blew back from her shoulders as she spun to give Emma a thorough once-over. As concern for Emma faded, her voice became as voluptuous as her body was angular. “I suppose you were working and turned off the phone.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I spent most of the day in bed.” Emma’s gaze flickered in Nathan’s direction.
He offered her his most salacious grin. Even across the room he could see the color that flooded her cheeks.
“Were you sick?” Addison glanced over her shoulder in the direction of her friend’s gaze and her perfect cupid-bow lips dropped open at the sight of Nathan standing half-naked beside the breakfast bar.
He let the woman’s pale blue eyes drink their fill of his bare chest and obvious arousal before he casually slipped the blue sweater over his head. Sliding it into place, he strode forward and held out his hand.
“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m—”
“Nathan Case,” she finished for him, extending her hand. “Addison Clements.”
Either she was one of those women who didn’t believe a firm grip was feminine, or her astonishment at finding a half-naked man in her friend’s loft left her dazed, because she scarcely put any effort into the handshake.
“He stopped by to check on me, too. We were supposed to have breakfast this morning, and I missed our meeting because I was sick.” Emma emphasized the last three words, to deflect her friend’s obvious curiosity. “I think I had food poisoning from dinner last night. Were you okay? I meant to call, but I felt so awful.”
“I’ve been fine,” Addison murmured, unable to take her eyes off Nathan.
He could see more than curiosity in her almond-shaped eyes. He glimpsed speculation as well.
“I’m sure you ladies have a lot to talk about,” he said, catching Emma’s hand and dropping a kiss into her palm. She quivered. “I’ll be going. Nice to meet you, Addison.”
Addison walked toward the kitchen, giving them some privacy. Emma followed Nathan to the door. Emotions whirled and churned through her as she tried to process what had almost happened again with him. How had he overridden her better judgment so easily?
Before she realized his intention, his hand slid along her hip, pulling her firmly against him. He dipped his head and claimed her lips, drowning her protests in a sensual assault. Her spine remained rigid for all of two heartbeats. Wrapped in the spicy scent of his cologne and the soothing warmth of his skin, she sagged against his chest.
With her surrender complete, Nathan eased his mouth from hers. While his hands spanned her back, thumbs moving rhythmically, he spent a long moment nuzzling her temple.
“I’m going to send movers for your stuff tomorrow.”
Despite his unsteady breathing, he sounded unaffected by the kiss. Humiliated that she’d fallen back into his arms so quickly, she applied pressure to his chest. He pulled back but was slow to release her. Her heart hammered against her ribs as his hands eased down
her back and over her hips.
“I already told you I’m not going anywhere.” She flinched at the breathy, disturbed timbre of her voice. It was bad enough that she dropped her guard any time he touched her—did she have to broadcast it?
“You have mold in your bathroom. And who knows where else. It’s dangerous for you to stay here.”
“That might be true but—”
“I have a perfectly nice condo and you can have your very own room.” He smirked at her, undaunted by her temper or her refusal to cooperate with him. “Unless, of course, you’d like to share a bedroom with me.”
She clenched her teeth to suppress a sarcastic retort. Why rise to the bait when that seemed to be exactly what he wanted? “I’m not moving in with you.”
“She can stay with Paul and me,” Addison called from the kitchen, where she’d obviously been eavesdropping.
Emma heaved a sigh, disliking the way they were ganging up on her. “You don’t have room.”
“The boys can share for a couple weeks. It won’t kill them.”
“The way those two argue, it might. Besides, I need to get ready for the show and that means I have to be here to work, so moving out doesn’t make sense.” Her shoulders felt as if a thirty-pound weight had been draped across them. “I’ll be fine.”
“You can move your worktable and equipment into my spare room,” Nathan said.
Their combined logic beat her back like a phalanx of soldiers intent on conquering enemy territory. “Why don’t we wait and see what your contractor has to say about the mold?”
“And if he recommends that you move out?” Nathan prompted.
“Then I will.”
“That’s my girl.”
Setting his hand beneath her chin, Nathan tipped her head up. What she saw in his wolf-gray eyes set her heart to pounding. A slow, sly smile curved his sculpted lips.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m not your girl.”
“Sure you are.” He kissed her on the nose. “You just don’t want to admit it yet.”
With that parting shot, he set her free and turned to go. His possessive declaration annoyed her. She didn’t belong to him. Not yet. Not as long as she kept him at arm’s length.
She leaned her hot cheek against the doorframe and watched his progress down the hall, appreciating the way his broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and his worn jeans cupped his perfect butt. Unruly cravings surged anew. Her fingers tightened on the door. Addison’s arrival had been a lucky break. Convincing Nathan that she wasn’t going to fall for him would have been that much harder after he completely transformed her into a moaning, writhing hedonist.
Catching her watching him, he flashed a cocky grin before stepping onto the elevator. Furious with herself for staring after him like some infatuated idiot, Emma slammed the door shut.
“Well, I obviously interrupted something,” Addison said from the kitchen. She snagged a bottle of water from Emma’s refrigerator. “Sorry.”
Addison didn’t look anything of the sort. Emma made a face at her.
“You didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Nice try,” Addison said. “But he wasn’t wearing a shirt and your eyes are wearing that half-dreamy, half-hungry look you get when you talk about him.”
“I do not.”
“Oh please. You’ve had a thing for him since you were sixteen. And from the way he kissed you just now, the feeling’s obviously mutual.”
Emma ignored her friend’s last remark. “He’s only interested in me because he wants to do a deal with my dad.”
“I doubt that’s the only reason.” Addison waved away the beginnings of Emma’s protests. “Yes, I know, your father is a controlling nightmare, blah, blah, blah. But you keep saying you want to fall in love and get married, yet you’re so afraid that every man’s going to be another Jackson that you don’t give anyone a chance.”
“Did you ever think that maybe I had good reason to keep my guard up?” Addison’s lecture slid like needles into her insecurities. Irritated, she decided her oh-so-smart friend needed a better grasp on the situation. “And, for your information, Dad made marrying me a condition of the deal between his company and Nathan’s.”
Addison remained unfazed by Emma’s revelation. “From everything I’ve heard about Nathan Case, he isn’t anything like Jackson,” she said, her tone calm and confident. “He’s not going to marry you to get on your dad’s good side.”
“It’s the only reason he wants to marry me,” she shot back.
“So, say no.”
“I’m trying.”
Addison’s lips twitched. “Not very hard. I obviously interrupted something pretty hot and heavy between you two.”
Emma dropped her forehead onto the breakfast bar with a groan. “It’s as if I spontaneously combust every time he touches me.” Her head came up. “But that’s not enough. I need more than sex.” Incredible. Fabulous. Mind-blowing sex.
“Are you sure? Seems like you haven’t been getting a lot of great sex lately. Or any sex, for that matter.”
Emma didn’t want to think about great sex with Nathan. Because if she thought about great sex, or any sort of sex with the man, she was going to have a hard time not having it with him again.
“Positive.”
“I saw the way you two looked at each other,” Addison said. “Maybe this thing between you two could lead to something more. It might be worth the risk. You haven’t taken many of those lately, either.”
Could it? Temptation tangled her resolve with a whole host of possibilities and left her adrift in confusion. She claimed that she wanted to fall in love and get married, but wasn’t that all about taking chances? Was Addison right? Did she use her father’s meddling in her life and her past naiveté as far as Jackson was concerned to guard her heart? Was she her own worst enemy when it came to finding someone to spend the rest of her life with?
After a moment, Emma shook her head. “Nathan approaches marriage like a business arrangement. I want to marry a man I love and who loves me in return. I want the fairy-tale ending. What’s wrong with that?”
“Women get rescued in fairy tales,” Addison pointed out. “Cinderella, Snow White, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty. All rescued. I thought you were trying to prove to your father that you can take care of yourself.”
“All the more reason not to get involved with Nathan. He thinks exactly the way my father does. That I need him to look after me.” She huffed. “And I don’t.”
Into the silence that fell between them, Addison added one last bit of advice. “I hope whatever decision you make, you don’t regret it.”
On that, Emma wholeheartedly agreed.
True to his word, Nathan sent a contractor to her loft the following morning. The stocky man had a brisk way of talking and a competent air as he inspected her bathroom.
“No wonder you’ve got problems.” He wore a disgruntled expression as he surveyed the plumbing job done by the previous owners. “I’ve never seen such poor workmanship.”
Emma set her hands on her hips. “But you can fix it?”
“Sure, but first we’ve got to get rid of this black mold,” the contractor explained. “It’s the most toxic variety there is. Can cause headaches, dizziness, difficulty concentrating. Not to mention runny nose and itchy eyes, and it could irritate or damage your lungs. I’d recommend that you vacate until we can get the problem taken care of.”
His pronouncement nettled her. Was he telling her that because she was truly in danger or because Nathan had prompted him to do so? “For how long?”
“Let me make a couple calls.”
While he took measurements and talked on the phone, Emma retreated to the small second bedroom where she’d set up her equipment. She could spare no time or energy debating whether or not she should stay in the loft. After Addison had left yesterday, Emma had gone through her inventory to get an idea of how far she would need to dip into her account to make enough jewelry for the show.
>
She pulled out her design pad and flipped through the sketches she had made over the last few months. Something tugged at her, an elusive notion of what the designs were missing. She turned to a blank page and let her pencil flow across the paper.
The contractor found her in the room a short time later. “I have someone who can come by tomorrow to take a look at your bathroom. His schedule’s pretty full but he can probably get a crew here in ten days or so. Do you have someplace you can stay until the mold is removed?”
“That long?” She blew out a breath. “Do I really need to move out?”
“I definitely think it’s a good idea.”
Emma walked the contractor to the door and returned to her workroom. She didn’t want to deal with packing up and moving. Especially not to Nathan’s condo where prolonged exposure to his sex appeal would weaken her determination not to tumble into bed with him again.
She resumed flipping through her sketchpad, hoping to recapture her creative spark. Frustration filled her as focus eluded her. She couldn’t stop thinking about Nathan’s intoxicating kisses yesterday. Her skin tingled. Blood raced hot and frantic through her veins, pooling in the sweet spot between her thighs. She shifted on her stool, willing the impatient urges away.
She didn’t have time to be distracted. With three weeks until the show, she would need to be focused on her jewelry every second. That meant no thinking about a certain handsome millionaire businessman who drove her crazy in every possible way.
Shaking her head, Emma told her traitorous pulse to settle down and picked up her pencil once more. Sometime later, her phone began to ring, waking her out of a creative fog. As the call rolled to voice mail, she sifted through all the new designs she’d come up with and smiled.
Her stomach growled, so she headed into the kitchen to heat up the leftovers of Nathan’s soup for lunch. While she ate, Emma gazed around the outdated cabinets and appliances. She’d heard a great deal of criticism from everyone who’d seen the loft, but despite all the negative comments, Emma loved the space—imperfections and all—and the possibilities it represented.
