“You’re going to make me come again.”
“Me too, Sass.” His body tingled, his heart pounding and his balls demanding their release. He pushed into her, her heat enveloping him, and each stroke stripped away his self-control.
He was hanging by a thread, and she was unraveling him.
Emma cried out under him, and her face as she came was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Her orgasm snapped the final thread of his restraint, her pleasure pulling him over the edge. He ground his hips in circles, pumping into her as his body found its perfect satisfaction.
“Oh, god, Sass,” he whispered into the crook of her neck. Her hair smelled like shampoo and promises. Her face was going to be burned in his memory until the day he died.
Emma and Deacon jolted awake at the sound of her alarm clock. The room was still sweltering, and their bodies were still tangled from last night, sweaty and wild.
God. Last night.
All the waiting had been worth it, their bodies a miracle of sensation.
Emma lifted her cheek from Deacon’s chest and reached for the alarm clock. She made a face and slid off him the way you’d rip off a band-aid. Fast. Painful.
“Where are you going, Sass?”
She picked clothes out of her dresser without meeting his eye—a silky blouse, a matching bra and underwear set in seashell pink. “I’ve gotta work.”
“Call in sick. I don’t have to be anywhere until later today.”
Emma glanced over her shoulder at him and pressed her fingers to her lips, still swollen from his careful attention.
“Last night was…” She shook her head. Her hair was rumpled from last night, and she looked beautiful.
“Incredible?” he offered.
She cracked a smile. “Yeah. But I think the heat made us both do crazy things.”
“Don’t tell me you’re having regrets, Sass.”
She shook her head. “No, Deacon. But if I stay, we’re going to do more of what we did last night, and I don’t think round two would be a good idea.” She pulled a skirt from the dresser and shut the drawer with her hip.
Deacon’s heart dropped. No way was she going to bail after this. “Have you ever slept with someone and had it feel like that?” Emma bit her lip, and he pushed the nerve. “I didn’t think so. This is a great idea.”
“Is like you want to do it again?”
“Yeah, Sass. Is like I want to do it again.”
“We shouldn’t, Deacon. It would be like giving in to my vices.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his head pounded. “Is that what I am to you—just another indulgence? Am I really that bad for you?” His voice came out pained and raw.
She smoothed a hand over her forehead. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just…this is complicated. Last night doesn’t change that fact.”
“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before. I like you. You like me. It’s not complicated.”
Emma paused, her skirt still clutched in her hands and her voice so serious. “Deacon, what happened to your last roommate?” She looked at his face, and he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. He opened his mouth and closed it again, and her features crumpled. “See, that’s what I mean.”
“You and I are a different story,” he protested.
“Yeah, and where do you want that to go?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I mean, I didn’t really think about it.” Actually, he’d thought about it a lot. He just didn’t have a firm answer yet. “But we should definitely have a repeat of last night.”
Emma held out her hands. “Deacon, I like you. And I live with you. This doesn’t have to be awkward. But I need you as a friend more than anything.”
“Friends with benefits, then.” He sounded so desperate. She was a drug and last night was a high. He was going to keep begging for his next fix.
Emma frowned. “You know that friends with benefits never works out. Someone always has to compromise. And I don’t want that to be me.” She sighed. “I’m not asking you for a relationship, okay? But that’s what I need.”
“Emma, I’m not really a relationship kind of guy.”
“I know that. Which is why I wouldn’t ask you to change for me.” She gave him a sad smile. “I think we should let last night be this awesome thing and move on.”
“I just don’t get how you can move on after that.”
“Me neither, if we’re being honest. But I’m not the kind of girl who settles for just messing around. I need more. I need to be able to trust that I’m safe and secure, and that goes for my love life just as much as my living situation.”
“Emma, nothing in life is a guarantee.” Deacon raked a hand through his hair and watched her frown deepen.
“I know. And I’m not opposed to having fun, but I’m wired for happiness.” She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s probably why I’m still single while everyone around me hooks up. But it’s just how I am. And if we keep sleeping together, all I see is this crashing and burning. You mean too much to me to let that happen.”
“So you like me too much to sleep with me again?”
Her glassy eyes implored him to stop. “Deacon, don’t.”
Emma carried her clothes to the shower, and Deacon fell back against her pillows with a sigh.
How the fuck did she go from screaming his name to running away from him in the space of just a few hours?
He slammed an open hand against the mattress, then slipped out of bed and stalked into his room. He shrugged on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt while the shower ran in the bathroom.
What he wouldn’t give for the sight of Emma naked again.
Fuck.
This shouldn’t be a big deal. He’d had plenty of one-night stands. So why did her rejection feel like a punch to his nuts?
The water in the bathroom shut off as Deacon walked into the kitchen. He opened the cabinets to scrounge together some food, but everything edible was hers. He sighed and opened the fridge, grimacing at the melted margaritas on the middle shelf.
Guess he’d go out to breakfast.
He slid open the kitchen drawer where he kept his wallet and moved it into his back pocket. Then he lifted his keys out of the bowl on the counter, metal scraping against ceramic.
“Where are you going?”
Emma had emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, her skirt hugging her hips and her blouse unbuttoned just enough to show the top of her cleavage.
Deacon’s hands tightened against his sides. “Out.”
“You can’t. I got a text from the apartment manager. They’re sending someone to deal with the ceiling at nine.”
“And you’re bailing on me?”
“I told you I’ve got to be at work, Deacon. If something goes wrong, call me, and I’ll try to help from there.”
Emma flashed him a quick, awkward smile and grabbed her work tote, wiggling out the door and leaving him there alone.
Chapter 17
Emma was still smarting from her conversation with Deacon this morning when she slammed down into her chair at work. She shoved aside a pair of calipers to wake her computer and logged onto her email account.
Avery had copied her and Bex on an email, but there was no mistaking the fact that Avery had only addressed it to her.
Emma, attached please see a questionnaire from Sexational Magazine about your design inspiration, the steps you took to complete the project, and features you’d like to share with the Sexational audience. Send this back at your earliest convenience.
This wasn’t fair. Emma was pre-coffee and under duress.
She gritted her teeth and reached for the phone on the corner of her desk. She dialed the number of the X Enterprises Seattle headquarters and skimmed through the rest of her emails until Avery picked up the phone.
“What’s up, Emma? How’s Vegas treating you?”
“Oh, you know. A million degrees and my air conditioning went out last night.”
“Ouch.”
In fairness, the broken AC had led to some very memorable experiences. But that was the whole problem. Emma hadn’t been in her right mind when she’d slept with Deacon, and even though it had been incredible, she knew her own heart well enough to protect herself now. She wasn’t going to become another girl on his long list of partners. She couldn’t.
Emma rubbed a hand over her forehead. “When your hot shower actually feels colder than the air, you know it’s bad.”
“Well, I’d send you some Seattle weather if I could. It’s sunny today, but only about seventy. Anyway, I know you didn’t call me to chat about the weather. What’s up?”
Emma frowned at her computer screen. “I saw the email you sent this morning, and I would love to answer the questions. But like I told you before, Bex was a huge part of making this happen. Any chance I can get us together on a conference call to answer the questions?”
“Sure. I’ve got about twenty minutes now if you can track her down.”
“I’m on it. Let me put you on hold.”
Emma set the phone on her desk and rushed down the hall to Bex’s office. Her friend stood in the middle of a huddle, surrounded by the shop Production Manager and a few coworkers who worked in product assembly. Bex held a black vibrator in her hand, and she tilted it from side to side, feeling for its balance point.
Bex glanced up as Emma entered the room.
“Do you have a minute?” Emma asked.
Bex gestured at the team. “We’ve got to recalibrate the machine that makes the casing for this beauty. Can it wait?”
Emma frowned. “I guess so. I’ll make sure you’re in the email loop.”
“Thanks. Actually, if you could help us out in the shop in about ten minutes, that would be great, too.”
“Of course.” Emma shuffled back to her desk and lifted the phone. “Avery? Still there?”
“I’m here. Did you grab Bex?”
“She’s tied up right now. Any chance we can try again later?”
“We can, but I’d really like you to at least get started with the project. Send me the answers from your perspective for now.”
Emma sighed. “Sure.” She returned the phone to its cradle and stared at her screen.
Question 1: What is your stance on the importance of the pleasure industry?
Easy. Emma typed her reply. I support every person’s right to experience pleasure, whether that’s from a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream or a sexual experience. Sex toys are the perfect channel for people to explore their own desires in a safe, healthy way. Pleasure helps reduce stress, depression, and other chronic diseases, and contributes to a well-rounded and fulfilling life.
Question 2: What was your inspiration for creating this toy? Emma skimmed further down the list.
Question 5: Tell us about the design process.
She brightened. She’d add Bex’s name to her answer enough times that the Sexational Magazine writer would forget that Emma was the one who’d even responded to the questions.
She didn’t need the spotlight—after last night, she needed a girlfriend, and she couldn’t have Bex mad at her. This had to work.
Emma swung open her apartment door and grinned as Colton lifted a case of beer in greeting.
“I thought after you bailed on Trivia Night last night that you might need a little pick-me-up.” He wore a button-down shirt, and his buzz-cut offset twinkling eyes.
Emma waved him inside and shut the door behind him. “Thanks, Colton.” She cast a glance down the hallway toward Deacon’s closed bedroom door. This had been the status quo since yesterday morning when she’d told Deacon they couldn’t keep sleeping together. It was the right thing—she couldn’t let herself be used like that—but her stomach hurt as the door remained shut. “Why don’t we take these to my room?”
Emma led Colton to her bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed. He set the case on her bedside table and pulled out a beer.
The room was too quiet. Too small. Emma fumbled for her phone and started a playlist going on Spotify. “So, how’d it go last night?” she asked.
Colton cracked open a beer and offered her one. “Do you even need to ask?”
She grinned. “I take it Team Dildo won?”
“I think Sam was about to blow a gasket.” He sat beside her on the bed, and his leg bumped into hers. Unlike with Deacon, her body didn’t fill with heat at the touch.
Emma moved her leg away, putting the tiniest bit of space between them. “At least all the prizes are staying in the family.”
“I think he’s worried Bex is going to scare off the other customers.”
“Well, you know Bex. If you’re not with her, you’re against her.”
Colton reached for her and rubbed a hand over her shoulders. “Sounds like there’s something going on with you two?”
Emma took a swallow of her beer, letting it wash down her throat so she didn’t have to answer right away. “It’s just a work thing, I guess. We’ll get through it.”
Carry On started up on her phone, and before she could reach to shut it off, Colton pulled her into a one-armed hug.
“You’ll be okay, Ems. You always are.” He stroked a hand down her arm and let it fall to her knee.
Emma sucked in a deep breath.
No. There was no way Colton liked her.
But the pressure of his touch didn’t fade, and he circled a finger over her bare knee. He searched her face, and she dropped her eyes.
“Thanks, Colton. But we’re just friends, right?” Emma covered his hand with hers to lift it from her skin.
Colton’s voice was strained. “Sure.” But he didn’t say it like he meant it.
Emma’s door banged open, and Deacon strode inside. “Sass, I thought we talked about that song.” He stopped short when he spotted Colton.
Emma moved away from Colton, but his hand still rested on her knee.
Deacon’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell is this?”
She jumped off the bed and reached for her phone. “I was streaming a random playlist. It must have shown up by accident.”
“No, I mean”—Deacon pointed between her and Colton—“what’s this?”
Emma dropped the phone back onto her bedside table without stopping the music. Screw him. He could suck it up and listen to the stupid song for a minute.
She fisted her hands on her hips. “I had a tough day. Colton was consoling me.”
“With his hands?”
“Hey, man.” Colton stood, over six feet of protective male. “Calm down.”
Deacon glared at him. “This is between me and Emma.”
Colton was taller than Deacon, but he carried his strength in lean muscles rather than Deacon’s broad shoulders. If a fistfight broke out, it could go either way.
Emma stepped between them, pushing her hands against Deacon’s chest. The touch sent a flash of heat through her, and she could feel his heart pounding against her palm. “It was a hug, Deacon.” She withdrew her hand and clutched it to her chest. “And even if it was more, it’s none of your business.”
Pain and anger flashed in his eyes, and Deacon took a step back from her. Her stomach dropped with every widening inch between them.
“If you say so.” He stormed back through the doorway and called from the hall. “Rule number four, Sass. Turn off the damn song.”
Emma slammed into the kitchen and poured her unfinished beer down the drain. Deacon emerged from his room as she was tipping Colton’s drink into the sink to follow her own bitter brew.
“Your friend gone?”
She whirled on him, her pulse beating like a clock counting down. “Yes. I showed him out five minutes ago. And what the hell was that, Deacon?”
Deacon leaned his hip against the counter. His shirt rode up an inch, revealing a thin line of golden skin between the hem of his shirt and the top of his ripped jeans. It was an invitation she wouldn’t let herself accept.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Your aggressive, jealous posturing.”
He scoffed. “Posturing, huh? Maybe I’m just an asshole all the time, Sass.”
Emma ground her teeth, her shoulders tight. “Just stop it, okay?”
“I don’t see the problem.”
The air conditioning may have been fixed, but her face was so hot it felt like it was still a hundred degrees inside. “You can’t tell me you don’t want a relationship with me and then get mad when I hang out with someone who isn’t you. You can’t have it both ways.”
“But you admit you were hanging out.”
“He’s a friend, Deacon!”
“Emma, you may think he’s a friend, but that dude definitely wants to fuck you. I saw the way he looks at you.”
She gasped and set the beer bottles on the counter before she dropped them first. “Is it the same way you look at me?”
Deacon took a step toward her, his body radiating heat. His voice scraped down her spine. “Yeah, Sass. It’s the way I look at you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stepped away, the kitchen counter solid against her lower back. She needed space between them because she was either going to reach for him or slap him. “Is this really about Colton?”
“This is about why you’re denying what happened between us.”
Emma set her jaw. “I’m not. The other night was amazing, but we want different things.” Her chin trembled, and her throat rasped as she met his eye. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, Deacon.”
He rubbed a hand over his chest and turned away. “Too late, Emma. Too goddamn late.”
Chapter 18
Deacon’s eyes shot open in the dark, the lyrics of a song evaporating in his mind as he struggled awake. His head felt fogged, and his pulse scratched in his veins like a dog at the back door. Blood wanted to be let out. His mouth tasted like copper, and sweat covered his skin.
Emma.
The desire for her burned in his chest, an ache to hold her in his arms.
Deacon slid out of bed and walked across the hall to lean his forehead against her bedroom door. He willed his heart to stop racing before he raised his hand to knock.
His Invitation Page 10
