by Gail McHugh
Emily squealed, popped a kiss on his cheek, and slid behind the wheel. Smoothing her hands along the soft red leather interior, she watched Gavin hit the garage door opener on the wall. He pulled the bow off the car and rounded the vehicle to the passenger side.
Once he was nestled in his seat next to her, she looked at him. “Push button?”
With a grin, Gavin nodded. “You’re getting good at this.”
“Wiseass.” She giggled, tossing the keys to him. “Okay. We’re opening her up. Speed. Here we go.”
Emily pushed the button and the engine purred to life, its sound nearly nonexistent. A far cry from the cars she’d owned that threw up when she started them. As she backed out of the garage into the bright sun of the late afternoon, Gavin synched his cell to the car, pumping the stereo to near-deafening levels.
“Who is this?” she yelled over the smooth, sultry voice of a man singing about a girl who was his angel. The slow beat was eerily dark and sexy. She checked her mirrors before pulling into the street. “I like it.”
“Massive Attack. The song’s called ‘Angel,’” Gavin answered, staring at Emily as he wet his lips. “When you’re not with me, I’ve often… thought of you while listening to this, among other things.”
Emily glanced at him, her senses heated by his sexual tone. “Oh, have you?” She cleared her throat, pulling her eyes from his as she pressed the gas harder than intended. The car leapt forward as she made a quick right out of the development. “And what are the other things you’ve done while listening to this song with me in your thoughts?”
Still gazing at her, his mouth turned up in a wicked grin, his voice low as he lifted his arm, massaging the back of her neck. “I’m usually in the shower with hot water spraying all over my body.”
Emily’s breath hitched, stuck in the back of her throat as he dragged his hand from her neck, down her shoulder, brushing against the swell of her breast. “And then?” she breathed, trying to concentrate on the ramp leading onto the San Diego freeway. She rolled down the window, allowing fresh air into the small space that’d suddenly become sweltering. “Please tell me what you do to yourself.”
Oh yes. Gavin had created a sexual monster, and he loved Every. Fucking. Bit. He flicked his blue eyes to the speedometer. She didn’t realize it, but his sexual angel was nearing 80 mph as she weaved in and out of other vehicles, her shiny hair whipping around her heart-shaped face. Continuing his pursuit along the side of her body, he adjusted his seat back slightly as his hand slowly moved down to the waist band of her sweatpants. Nice easy access.
He teased his fingers against her stomach, lingering before dipping below the material. He felt Emily tense, the car jolting forward, faster as he slipped his hand lower still. Holy shit. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Dick hard as a rock, Gavin couldn’t help the groan rumbling up his throat. With Nine Inch Nails now pummeling through the car, screaming about fucking like animals, Gavin was more than pleased with his playlist. As Emily parted her legs, Gavin glided his hand down the smooth, bare flesh of her pussy, his fingers instantly slick as he pushed them inside her. A moan tore past Emily’s lips, and Gavin watched her hands grip the wheel tighter. He slid his fingers in and out with the steady beat pulsating from the speakers. Faster, the vehicle surged forward, nearing 110 mph as Emily lifted her left foot onto the edge of her seat. Emily tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering closed as he pushed deeper, harder.
“Eyes on the road, Emily, or else I stop,” Gavin commanded, his breath becoming ragged as she ground on his fingers.
Emily snapped her head forward, another moan filtering past her lips.
Staring at her beautiful face twisted with pleasure, Gavin leaned into her ear. “I take my cock and stroke it slowly while thinking of you.”
“Please keep going,” she begged shamelessly, her concentration faltering by the second. Her actions were dangerous and she knew it, but hell if she could stop. She was completely high, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, and she wanted nothing more than to jump. “What else do you think of?”
“I think about the way we fuck until our bodies are dripping with sweat and we can’t take anymore.” Gavin groaned, his senses drowning in the feel of her wetness coating his fingers. “I think about the way your hot pussy feels around me as you beg me to take you harder. The way your body shudders like a fucking leaf when you come for me. “
“Oh my God,” Emily moaned, her need to pull over and ravish him escalating with each stroke he pushed inside of her. He circled his thumb over her clit, heightening that need beyond any control she had left. Mind made up, Emily eased off the gas. Before she could seek out a spot, any damn spot, her gaze caught the blazing red and blue lights of a highway patrol car pushing up her ass.
“Gavin!” she wailed, her nerves shot and her body a tumbling mess. “I’m getting pulled over!”
Gavin barked out a laugh and eased his hand from her sweatpants. “That’s my speeding vixen,” he said as if unaffected by the situation. He licked his fingers, adjusted his seat, and smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll just let them know what I was doing to you. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
Mouth agape, Emily shook her head, trying with all her might to calm her heated body. She reared off onto the shoulder, her attempt to calm down in vain, because she was shaking uncontrollably. Sure, some of it had to do with the not one but two towering state troopers flanking either side of the vehicle, but more of it had to do with her aching desire for release. Eyes wide and body pulsing with what she was sure was pure unleashed torture, Emily reached for the purse she never brought. “Holy shit! I don’t have my license with me!”
“Emily, calm down.” Gavin lifted his ass, pulling his wallet from his jeans pocket. “Relax, baby, really.”
“You’re telling me to relax?” she questioned, her words clipped. “I was doing ninety, and I don’t have my license. They’re going to haul me off to jail.”
Gavin popped a smirk, sliding out his ID. “One: You were doing a hundred and ten if you want to get technical. Two: They’re not hauling you off anywhere. Three: I just had the sweetest fucking vision of you wearing a black and white prison jumpsuit. You were even wearing the little cap on your head. Mmm, simply beautiful.”
“You need help,” Emily whispered as the two officers approached, their hands resting on the pistols tucked in their holsters. She swallowed, smeared a smile across her face, and glanced up at the officer on her side of the vehicle. “Hello, sir.”
Eyes shielded by dark sunglasses, the older gentleman pressed his mouth into a hard line before he spoke. “License, registration, and insurance.”
With a smartass smirk brighter than she ever witnessed, Emily watched Gavin reach into the glove compartment and pull out the necessary documents. Handing them to her, he shot her a wink.
She rolled her eyes and looked at the officer peering down at her. “Um, I don’t have my license with me. I’m visiting from New York, and we left my sister’s house in a rush. I forgot to bring my purse.”
After examining the information she gave him, he slid his glasses from his face. “Is there a reason you thought it was okay to do 111 miles per hour on the freeway?”
“That’s my fault, officer,” Gavin piped up, inclining his body toward the driver’s side window. “I told her I was in dire, excruciating pain and needed to be examined by a nurse.” Gavin cleared his throat. “I mean a doctor. But I’m happy to say I’m feeling better now.”
With a suspicious eye, the trooper glared at Gavin for a long second. “I need your social so I can run a check for a license,” he said, looking back to Emily.
She gave him the digits and nervously glanced in the rearview mirror as he walked to the patrol car.
Still standing on the passenger side, the younger trooper leaned in the window. “So you’re a Yankees fan?” he asked, his eyes pinned on Emily. “I’m from the Bronx. Nothing beats a Yanks game at home.”
“I’m not a Yankees fan, but my
boyfriend is,” she answered, shifting in her seat. The small talk soothed her nerves slightly.
The trooper furrowed his brows. “You’re not? Your plates say otherwise.”
Now Emily furrowed her brows as she looked to Gavin. “And what would my plates say, Gavin?”
Smile full-toothed and wide, Gavin cupped the back of her neck. “Ah. You must’ve missed that while we were in the garage.” He chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. “I had them shortened up to say ‘New York Yankees Lover.’ Emblem and all. I have to admit, they look pretty cool.”
Palming her cheek, Emily looked down and laughed. “A living, breathing, walking wiseass.”
“You left out shmexy,” Gavin clipped.
Before Emily could toss him her own wiseass remark, the older officer returned. “Okay. Your New York license checked out. I need to issue you a correctable violation for not having it with you, though. Just bring the ticket and your license to any station in the San Diego area, and it should get dismissed. Sign your name by the X.” Emily nodded, and he handed her a white slip. After scribbling her name on it, she gave it back. He ripped the yellow carbon copy off from underneath, once again repeating the process of paper exchanging.
“Seeing you look like a nice girl and I don’t want to do the paper work, I’m not going to arrest you. Which I could, considering how fast you were driving. But you’re getting a speeding ticket for doing forty-six miles per hour over the posted speed limit. It could carry a fine up to $1,000 and a possible thirty-day suspension of your license.” The trooper paused, hunched over, and looked into the car. Though his glare was aimed at Gavin, his statement was directed at Emily. “I suggest you rethink your speed the next time the gentleman next to you tells you he’s sick.”
Emily nodded, holding in a sigh of relief. “I will. Thank you, officer.”
He gave a curt nod. After the two troopers walked away, Gavin busted out laughing, slapping his knee.
Emily pulled onto the freeway, mindful of her speed. “I can’t believe you’re laughing,” she said, trying to keep herself from doing the same.
Running his hand through his hair, Gavin popped a smile. “Your face was absolutely priceless.”
“Bet you wish you had a camera.”
“Sweets, you have no idea what I would’ve done for one.”
Once again, Emily rolled her eyes. Though it took double the amount of time to make it back to her sister’s house, because she was driving as Gavin would refer to as “like his grandmother,” nonetheless they arrived. This time, less… heated than when they began their trip. After hopping from the car, Emily glanced at the tags. Sure enough, Gavin had the letters NYYLVR put on the plates.
Upon entering the foyer, after dowsing her Yankees lover with a few kisses, Emily heard Michael hooting out that the Knicks had their shit handed to them by the Lakers. Now it was her turn to bust out laughing. Gavin playfully swatted her ass and made his way into the living room. Shaking her head, she started for the kitchen and found Lisa pulling a honey glazed ham from the oven. The second the savory smell hit Emily’s nose, a lurch of nausea hit her. It coiled and simmered, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her eyes glassed over as she curled one arm around her middle, the other cupped over her mouth.
“Are you all right?” Lisa asked, placing the ham on a cooling rack. “You don’t look so good.”
Another whiff and Emily was done for. Turning on her heel, she belted through the kitchen, nearly tripping over a stool next to the island. She barely made it into the lower level bathroom, and she didn’t have time to close the door. She slid onto her knees in front of the toilet. With another twisting lurch scraping though her gut, Emily pulled back her hair, her body viciously releasing the hearty breakfast and lunch she’d enjoyed earlier. Her throat burned hot from the acrid taste. She gasped for air, choking as she heaved.
“My God, Emily!” Lisa ran into the bathroom, helping Emily hold her hair.
“The door,” Emily croaked. “Close the door.”
As Lisa closed it, Emily pulled herself from the floor, her nerves shot from her body’s sudden reaction. Hunched over the sink, she flipped on the cold water and slipped her hands under it.
“What the heck was that?” Lisa asked, her eyes wide.
Emily shook her head and sipped water from her hands. As it slid down her throat, easing the fiery burn, she shook her head again. “I have no idea,” she breathed. “I came in, and the smell of the ham made me sick.”
Lisa leaned against the wall, her arms crossed. “This isn’t the first time you’ve felt sick recently.”
Reaching for a hand towel, Emily dried her face. “Right. I’ve been under a lot of stress, Lisa.” She tossed the hand towel onto the vanity and whipped open the medicine cabinet. “Do you have an unused toothbrush?”
“Not in there. Underneath the sink.”
Ducking, Emily pulled open the cabinet. After rummaging through a small basket, she found the pack. Quickly opening it, she stood, snatched the toothpaste, and squirted some onto the bristles. She shoved it into her mouth and plowed the brush over her teeth, wanting to remove the nasty taste.
“I know you’ve been under a lot of stress, Emily, but did it ever occur to you,” Lisa paused, placing her hand on Emily’s shoulder, “that you might be pregnant?”
Staring at her sister’s reflection, Emily immediately stopped brushing. She pulled the brush from her mouth and turned around. “No. Why would I even think that? I’m on the pill.”
“Have you kept up with it?”
Emily sighed, rinsed her mouth, and shut off the water. “Yeah, I think I have.”
“You think you have?” Lisa scoffed. “The pill only works when you take it on a regular basis. When’s the last time you had your period?”
“Jesus,” she puffed out. “It’s just my nerves. Everything that happened with Dillon while we were engaged, not to mention everything with Gavin between the engagement and after. I’m not pregnant.”
Lisa’s green eyes softened with concern. “Answer the question, Emily. When’s the last time you had your period?”
Trying hard to remember the last time she did receive a visit from “Aunt Flo,” Emily rushed her hand through her hair. “I’m not sure. The second week of October, maybe.”
“Right. The second week of October.” Lisa reached past Emily and opened the medicine cabinet. She plucked out a box and handed it to her. “Michael and I are still trying for our own. There’re two tests in there. Get peeing.”
Emily opened the box and pulled out both pregnancy tests. “I can’t believe this.”
“My thoughts exactly. What can’t you believe?” Placing her hands on her hips, Lisa gaped at her. “You haven’t had a period since the middle of October. Every time I’ve spoken to you since I left New York, you told me you were fighting some kind of nausea. You pawned it off as nerves. I get it. But everything’s fine now. There’s no reason for you to be nervous. If it’s as simple as nerves, sit down and take the test. No biggie.”
On a sigh, Emily slid down her sweatpants and popped a squat over the toilet. Waiting on Mother Nature, she tore open both tests. “Can you stop watching me? You’re making me feel like a child getting a potty training lesson.”
“Oh give me a break.” Lisa rolled her eyes and messed with her hair as she stared at her reflection. Throwing the dark curls into a messy bun, she shot Emily a sideways glance, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. “I did potty train you. Let’s not forget I’m ten years older. I’ve wiped your ass one too many times for either of our own good.”
With way too much information pelting through her head, Emily didn’t dare keep the conversation going. But it was all good because Mother Nature finally showed up. Holding both tests, Emily slipped them under the flow, making sure both were saturated. Once finished, she placed them on the toilet paper Lisa had neatly squared up on the vanity.
Emily washed and dried her hands, her head starting to become fuzzy as t
he sisters hovered above the tiny sticks that, in that moment, scared the shit out of Emily. Through the past few weeks, she’d dismissed her nausea as nerves, but all of a sudden, that no longer seemed plausible. The words denial, fear, and plain out stupidity came to mind. With sweat gathering just above her lip, she yanked up the empty pregnancy test box, flipping it over to read what a positive and negative would look like. Making note that one line represented a future void of diapers, and two lines initiated her straight into motherhood, Emily started nibbling nervously at her thumb nail. “How long do these take?”
The question had barely escaped Emily’s mouth when a single line on one of the tests started turning a light shade of pink. With a sigh of relief perched in the back of her throat, a tiny smile crept across Emily face. However, that tiny smile quickly fell when the line’s twin screamed for a little attention as it, too, started blushing. Emily flicked her eyes to the other test, already beaming two bright red lines.
Standing above two plastic sticks signifying her life was about to change in more ways than she could even begin to understand, Emily tried to breathe.
Breathe…
Numbers.
Dates.
Times.
Calculations of every sort pounded through her head. A mental calendar, wicked in all it was, flashed in Emily’s mind. Its pictures reminded her that the first time she’d made love to Gavin, the night of his mother’s benefit, was within days of her and Dillon breaking up. Within days of her and Dillon making love.
Breathe…
Days.
Hours.
Minutes.
Memories of every kind arrowed through her heart. Each second she and Gavin had spent together over the last few weeks, slowly mending what was once close to broken, felt as though it was about to be ripped from her. Gone. There was no denying the child she was carrying might not be his. The chances were slim to none. In the two glorious nights they shared, she’d slept with Gavin a handful of times. In the weeks leading up to and after that night, she’d been with Dillon many times. Arms open wide, forgiving every confused indecision she’d made, Gavin had taken her back, but he’d never signed up for this. A stand-in father to the child of a man he hated. A man he loathed with every fiber of his being. This could surely break them. What they were, and what they had yet to become, would be nothing but an almost that… never was. A mirage.
