Edge of the Heat 2 (Westwood Harbor Corruption)

by Ladew, Lisa

  She got up, grabbed her bag, and pulled him behind her, walking swiftly. He kept pace. When they had almost reached the end of the tables and the crowd had thinned she stopped abruptly and bent over. “Ooh, a penny!”

  Craig didn’t expect it. His most tender part ran full speed into her backside. A little thrill of contact bordering on pain ran through him. She almost collapsed on the ground in giggles.

  Craig grinned, grabbing her hand as she stood up. He wiped the grin and tried to make his face stern. “You’re playing with fire sweetheart, don’t make me find a broom closet.”

  She giggled again, her cheeks glowing red at the thought. He pulled her to the lobby, finding a quiet corner where they could watch for the cab. He pulled her around against the wall and pressed his length against her, trailing her neck with kisses.

  She went almost limp against him, sucking in her breath. It had been so long. Her nerves were on fire, begging for more, pleading for harder, more fervent kisses. His lips were slow, careful, like he was afraid he could break her. His hands, resting gently on her waist, twitched and suddenly were moving, roaming, rubbing up and down her jeans, over her hips, gently lifting and squeezing one butt cheek, hooking under her t-shirt and thrilling her bare skin. They were hot, burning her through her jeans, sending heat through her body, and she swore she could feel every flame between her legs. She clung to him, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to move, forgetting this was a two person show. Her head lolled back as her body tried to process the magnitude of sensations.

  A honk startled her out of her reverie. She peeked over Craig’s shoulder and saw their cab just outside the double doors. “Our cab,” she breathed. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, just kept rolling his hands across her body and his lips across her skin. She tried again, wanting to get someplace private but never wanting him to stop. “Craig, our cab is here.” The cabby honked again. He pulled her to him as close as possible one last time, still incredibly gentle, but hard enough that she could fell his stiff, pulsing length against her belly. Oh she wanted to get her hands on him.

  He released her gently with one final, exquisitely gentle kiss to her collarbone, then picked up her bag and his bag, and pulled her to the cab, swiftly, with no thought for who might see how turned on he was.

  Chapter 16

  The cab ride was short, or it was long, she didn’t know. Craig’s lips found hers and forced everything but the thought of him and what he was doing to her from her mind. She’d kissed him before, but none of her prior experiences had prepared her for the fiery path his tongue burned inside her mouth when they had no ability to go any farther. Trapped in the back of the cab, she couldn’t shed her shirt or take off his jeans, distracting them both from the kisses. His spicy, sweet mouth probed hers, licking her lips open, tasting her like a hummingbird tastes nectar, sucking first her bottom lip, and then her tongue itself until Emma was a warm puddle of desire. The heat radiating up from between her legs felt like enough to set them both on fire. Oh she wanted him, this gentle, sweet, strong man. She wanted to take everything he had to give and give it right back, tenfold.

  Craig’s kisses, ever gentle up to this point, began to heat up in intensity. He sucked harder, speared into her mouth with more strength, and pulled her to him more urgently. His hands twined in her hair, alternately smoothing it and pulling it, driving her out of her mind with desire. The smell of him, strong, clean man and a touch of aftershave, pulled at her senses, demanded she pay him tribute. “We’re almost there,” he broke contact long enough to whisper in her ear. The words struck her physically, sending butterflies hurtling through her stomach. This was finally happening. It had been so many years. He was so perfect.

  The cab pulled up in front of his large, brick building. He handed the driver several bills and climbed out, running around to help her out the other side. He locked eyes with her, intimately holding her gaze, grabbing their bags and her hand, and walking backwards, pulling her with him. At the door, he swiftly entered the alarm code numbers and put in his key, sweeping her inside in an instant.

  Door closed, he pulled her to him in the hallway, his voice a low rumble, “I’m never going to let you go Emma Hill. You are all mine now.” Emma shivered at his words and the passion in them. This is what she wanted. She wanted to be owned, consumed, taken. She suddenly felt glad she was a woman, soft and sweet and consumable to this wall of masculine energy before her. The bags forgotten on the floor, Craig snaked his hands around her ass and lifted her off the floor as easily as if she weighed nothing. She twined her legs around his hips and squeezed their bodies together. His mouth sought hers, and she gave it over, willingly. He carried her slowly down the hallway, kissing her like he had in the cab, finally stopping and propping her up against the wall.

  His lips never left hers as she heard keys jangle and a door slide open. She twined her hands in his hair, simultaneously thrilled and terrified that the moment was finally here.

  He pulled her away from the wall and walked them into the apartment. He left the door standing open and walked straight to their left, putting her gently down on a bed after 10 or so steps. She looked up at him, wanting what he wanted. Wanting to know exactly what he wanted. He kicked off his boots, his eyes never leaving hers. She followed suit, dropping her shoes to the floor. He took his t-shirt over his head and threw it behind him. She sucked in her breath. His chest, so broad and muscled, made her forget where she was for a second. She just wanted to get her hands and tongue on it.

  She licked her lips and pulled her own shirt over her head. He smiled down at her gently, his dimples peeking out. She didn’t want that gentle smile - the one that said I’ll go slow and be careful with you - she wasn’t a china doll! She hooked a leg around his thigh and pulled him in, dropping him to the bed on top of her. His white teeth moved in and nipped at her pink, lacy bra. Her sexiest bra that she had specifically asked Jerry to bring to her at the hospital in anticipation of this moment. He pulled the bra back with his teeth, his hot breath goosepimpling her skin. She couldn’t stand it anymore and reached behind her ripping the bra off, wanting his bare skin against hers.

  His breath sucked in at the sight of her. “You are so perfect,” he whispered looking from her face to her breasts and back again. His husky voice turned her on even more. She pawed at his chest, wanting to touch every inch of hot skin. Her intensity seemed to fuel him. He dropped his mouth to her right nipple and grazed it with his teeth, letting lose a little growl of desire from deep in his chest. His mouth clamped on and he teased her nipple with his tongue, while tracing her other breast with his hand.

  Finally! The pleasure washed over her, She wished he had two mouths and four hands. She wanted him to touch every inch of her. Suddenly, the desire to be totally naked was overwhelming. Her mind screamed for his hands in all her most intimate places. Shoving her hands between them she undid her jeans and pressed them down. All that was left was her underwear and she’d be naked, vulnerable, his for the taking. Oh she liked the thought of that. She wanted to be taken. Taken with abandon. Taken with passion. She was giving it, now she wanted him to take it. She wanted to tell him, Take Me. She wanted to scream it out. She wanted even more to tell him something nastier, dirtier, better, but she could never, in a million years dream of saying that out loud. She worked her mouth a little, trying to get up the courage to say something naughty, something to push him past his controlled gentleness, something to make him rip off her underwear, tear off his own pants, and pound into her with every ounce of force he could muster.

  Her mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. She’d been the good girl too long to just shed the image in her own head like she had shed her pants. Fine. If I can’t say it, I’ll show it.

  Frantically, she tore at his jeans.

  ***

  Inside Craig’s head he was thanking his lucky stars. He pulled back a little, the hard nipple from the perfectly pert and lush breast popping out of his mouth, looking slick from his saliva and
oh so inviting. He glanced at Emma’s face, her mouth open slightly, her head thrown back, all that strawberry-blond hair jumbled and tousled everywhere and thought he had died and gone to heaven. Emma was shy and sometimes even reserved about things - he wasn’t sure what she would be like once he got her alone in his bed. So far, her passionate kisses and frenzied grasping had been pushing him closer and closer to that edge.

  He didn’t want to go over the edge though. She deserved gentleness, thoughtfulness, caring, love-making. The last thing he wanted was for this to be over in 5 minutes. But oh, it had been so long since he’d had a woman in his bed. Especially a lovely, sweet, innocent woman like this. A ripe strawberry, practically begging for him to pluck her, taste her, do what he wanted with her.

  She had shed her pants and then dug at his until he pushed them down and kicked them off. Now there was nothing between them but his underwear and her panties. His were standard blue cotton boxers, decidedly unsexy he was sure, but her underwear? Oh they were exquisite. He took one more sucking tug at her nipple and then headed down to check them out on a more personal level.

  Her hands twined in his hair, pulling and pushing. He kissed a trail down her stomach, skimming his fingers over the pink lace. This tiny piece of fabric was all that was between him and her. He brushed a thumb over the very center of her and was gratified with a keening from the back of her throat. God he loved that sound. He would give anything to hear it again. Lightly, as lightly as he could, he caressed the spot again, and again through the sheer fabric. Her breath hitched, her fingers convulsed at his scalp, and, oh yes, the light moaning wail came again. “Yes,” her heard her whisper.

  He dropped his tongue to her sweetest spot and gently probed through the lace. Her heady, sweet taste and scent filled his senses. She moaned again with more intensity this time, dropping her hands to tear at the blankets beneath her.

  As much as he hated to see those lacy panties go, he also couldn’t wait till they were on the floor next to everything else. He hooked a finger around them and pulled them down, half lifting himself out of the way, intending to go back and finish the job he had started. She stopped him, wrapping her legs around his hips again tightly. His erection was throbbing, demanding, pulsing with each heartbeat, and when she pulled him close, it connected with her now-bare sex. He leaned forward, holding himself up on his hands, looking at her flushed face and pink, inviting lips. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back. “Craig.” The word was spoken as a prayer, a beseeching plea. “Please.” She opened her eyes and locked gazes, the heat he saw traveling straight through to his groin. “Now,” she whispered. She reached for his waistband and tried to shed his underwear.

  He pulled it down and flung it away himself, his engorged flesh free and pressing directly against hers. He groaned a little, his control almost gone. She grabbed his rock hard erection with her surprisingly soft, small hands. His hips bucked at her searing touch. He ground his teeth together against the overwhelming urge to be inside her in one swift movement. She pulled and released and pulled harder, guiding him to her. “Condom,” he breathed, reaching into the drawer in the little table by the bed. Within a moment, he had it on and could wait no longer. Back between her legs he dropped his thumb lightly to that tight bundle of nerves, wanting to give her as much pleasure as possible. She gasped and threw her legs around his hips again, urging him into her.

  He obliged her, gritting his teeth against the desire to plunge and plunder, slam and slam again. He guided himself in gently, oh so slowly. She felt so good and so tight, pressing against him on all sides. No words could describe the ecstasy of this first meeting, this first entering, this first melding of their bodies. She was still, completely motionless, save for her bird-like hands flying to her mouth, seemingly to hold back a cry. The cry came anyway, a low moan, building in strength the farther in he went. It morphed into a tiny gasp and for a second he saw a flash of pain on her face. He stopped, letting her adjust. Her brow smoothed and she sighed, eyes closed, looking blissful.

  He began again, pushing, pushing, oh so slowly, until there was nowhere left to go. He was seated. They were one. He took a breath and told himself “gently, gently,” most of him desperately wanting to be anything but gentle. She was so beautiful. A light sheen covered her breasts and stomach. Her lips where he disappeared into her body were the most delicate shade of swollen pink he had ever seen. He could stare at her forever, all that hair flowing everywhere and her soft, feminine body accepting him so fully. He glanced at her face again and her eyes were open, devouring him with their intensity. She whispered something that he couldn’t quite make out, but what she wanted was clear by the hard look of desire on her face. Gently he began to take her, make her his. The friction was unbearably sweet. Her breasts called to him and he leaned forward to catch one gently in his teeth.

  The desperate keening sound erupted from her throat again. “Yes,” she cried, head thrown back, breasts pushing into his face. His sense of control shattered at that, and all he wanted was to be the one to make her say it again and again. Harder he thrust. Her voice urged him on until she seemed to lose the ability to form words. Her body tensed beneath him and her hands flew up to tear, unrestrained at his back and shoulders. His own release threatened to take him, but he held it off until he saw her sated. When she collapsed beneath him, all tension gone, muscles like jelly, he gave one full, final thrust and shuddered over her, into her, finally falling on top of her, spent completely from the most incredible orgasm of his life.

  She lay limp beneath him, her breath still tearing in and out of her throat. He kissed her behind her earlobe. “I love you.”

  She giggled and ran a hand from his buttcheek to his neck, making him shiver. “I loved that.”

  He chuckled, “Oh yeah, but you don’t love me anymore?”

  “Oh, you’re ok.” The light teasing in her voice made him love her more. Made him want to see what else she would love.

  But reality was quick to reassert itself. In the hallway, he could hear his phone bing-bonging. A text message. Was that the first one or had he just finally noticed it?

  Chapter 17

  “Oh crud,” Emma breathed, trying to sit up. “I wonder if they got Norman?”

  “Yeah, me too.” Craig pushed to his feet and padded out to the hallway wearing just his socks.

  “Don’t you have neighbors?” Emma yelled after him.

  “They are all FBI, on the scene with Hawk, I am sure.”

  “Oh,” Emma said to herself. This entire building housed nothing but FBI agents? There must be at least 15 apartments, maybe more. She hadn’t really gotten a look at Craig’s place to see how big it was.

  Craig came back in, studying his phone. Emma took a moment to admire his body. She hadn’t gotten to see much after he took his underwear off. He was big, of course. Naturally big through the shoulders and chest. That alluring muscle on his side that well-muscled men seem to have jutted out and made her want to jump on him all over again. She avoided looking right at his genital area - she felt shy about that all of a sudden, so she jumped her vision to his legs. She hadn’t actually seen his legs yet. They looked tough and masculine too. She sighed inside her head and hugged herself a little. How did she manage to deserve such a hot boyfriend?

  She smiled up at his face, but he was frowning.

  “Uh, oh, what happened?” she asked, foreboding pushing away some of her afterglow.

  “Hawk says for us to stay in the hospital. Says Norman won’t give up and has the house boobytrapped so they can’t get in.”

  Emma winced. “Did you tell him we already left?”

  “Yeah, I’m texting him back now.”

  “Do you think we should go back? I promised Viv we would meet her for lunch.”

  He chewed on the inside of his cheek, cocking one hip like he was perfectly comfortable naked. Emma shivered and pulled her legs up. She wasn’t quite as comfortable. She started eying her clothes strewn on the floor.


  “Well, the hospital isn’t necessarily any safer than any place else. The security guards don’t have guns or anything. If somehow Norman got past Hawk and came for us there we actually would have been sitting ducks. I didn’t even have a gun.”

  He crossed the room and placed his hand on a small black box sitting on his dresser. He pressed a few buttons and a door popped open on the front of the box. Two heavy, dangerous-looking guns were inside. He took one out, popped out the magazine, pushed it back in, chambered a round, and double-checked the safety. “Now I do.”

  He put the gun on the dresser, closed his gun safe, and started pulling on his clothes. He smiled at her. “It’s too bad we couldn’t just hang out here all day.”

  She smiled back. “Yeah, we barely even got started.”

  Craig threw back his head and laughed. “You feel like that too huh? I guess it’s been a long time for both of us.”

  He tossed Emma her clothes and she started putting them on.

  “So where to?” he asked. “We could get Vivian and head to the hospital for lunch, just to make Hawk happy. The food there isn’t too bad.”

  Emma nodded thoughtfully. “Can we stop at my house? I need some fresh clothes. I wore these yesterday.”

  “Sure, it’s on the way to Vivian’s hotel.”

  ***

  Driving to her house, Emma’s sense of foreboding grew. “Did Hawk say anything else?” she asked Craig.

  “Nope.” Craig handed her the phone so she could read the text messages herself.

  She sent him a message. “What’s going on?” but she didn’t expect to hear back from him very quickly. She opened her mouth to tell Craig how she felt but closed it again, not wanting to sound silly.

  Craig broke the silence. “I can’t stop wondering how it’s going at Norman’s. I hope he hasn’t shot anyone.”

  Emma sighed, relief slipping over her. So he felt it too. “Yeah, me too.”