Emily tried not to spit out the water in her mouth. “The elephant in the room? That what you’re saying?”
“Yeah. Its ass is pretty damn big and I can’t see you.”
She started laughing. “Fair enough.” She had to give him credit. It took balls to call her on it. She hadn’t known her reluctance had been so obvious. She really should have taken an acting class or two in high school. Too late now. She nodded. “I guess I’ll go first.”
He cocked his head and grabbed his glass. “Sure. Go ahead.”
She swallowed. “So…this was a complete mistake. It was my fault. I’ll accept responsibility, and I want you to know I won’t use this in any way to manipulate you as my employer.”
He blinked. “Okay. I’m not worried about that.”
“Sorry. I hope you don’t feel like I used you.”
He started laughing. “You realize that no guy in the world would care if you used him that way, right?”
She grinned. He was taking it well. “I feel better already.”
“I wondered instead how you’d feel about one more time. Then…back to the way things were.”
Oh, she was pissed at herself because she liked the sound of that. One more time in his bed. Yeah, she really did want that. Then tomorrow she could figure out if she still wanted Bryce or not. Right now, she never wanted to see the guy again, but a good night’s sleep might change that. She smiled at Clay, hoping her eyes didn’t look as ravenous as they felt. “Just tonight?” He nodded. “Then we act like nothing ever happened?” His head was still moving up and down as his eyes clouded over. She stuck out her hand to give him one of the firm shakes she’d practiced over the years. “Deal.”
* * *
Clay wasn’t sure what to make of the conversation he’d had with Emily. Somehow, she’d turned the tables on him. He’d been trying to let her down gently, but it turned out she didn’t need that.
Hell, he was just a piece of meat to her.
Not that he was complaining. He loved women and he loved sex, and he’d never wanted to feel committed. The only times he’d done it, he’d been screwed over. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but it felt that way. He’d met his ex-wife Abby when he was young and fallen hard, and she’d let herself get pregnant. He loved her, so he married her. It was the right thing to do, and he was glad he had, because he’d gotten a wonderful child out of the whole thing. His daughter Jasmine was one of the few things he’d ever done right in his life. Not long after she was born, though, Abby started cheating on Clay with a man she was still with to this day.
Okay, so Clay had probably made her feel like she’d had no choice, but still. It had hurt.
And Valerie Quinn. Not Quinn anymore, but she had been at the time. Such a sweet, vibrant, lively young woman, and he’d fallen for her hard too. He loved seeing the world through her eyes of wonder, and she’d made him feel a little younger too. He hadn’t been the right guy for her, though, and he’d known it shortly into their relationship. Still, she’d tried to make it work too. He knew it, and so, when she’d talked to him about it, he let her go.
That had hurt too, but he’d wanted her to be happy, and he had the feeling she’d never be one-hundred percent happy with him.
And now Emily…she didn’t come right out and say it, but she was full of shit if she said she didn’t still love the guy she was or wasn’t engaged to. He even wondered if she was telling the truth about him not being her fiancé anymore. Maybe she’d broken up with him temporarily so she wouldn’t feel guilty about releasing any sexual tension she’d shared with Clay.
He’d joked about not minding if she used him, and his cock meant it. His heart, though, the part of him that was all Clay, did mind. He didn’t just want her for a quick roll in the hay. He didn’t necessarily want her for forever, but he didn’t want her to just ride him and thank him and go along on her merry way.
It was just starting to turn dark out as they headed down the freeway back to his house. The two were quiet again. Emily was checking her phone and Clay turned on the radio, and it just hit him. It didn’t hurt that Korn’s “Need To” started playing on the radio, a song he hadn’t heard in years. It was like fate was trying to tell him something. This thing with Emily, though…it was a lot like with Valerie. He was rebound guy. Valerie hadn’t even officially broken up with her then-boyfriend Ethan when she came begging for Jet to fuck her senseless, and now with Emily, it was the same goddamned thing. She was convinced she had either broken up with or wanted to break up with her douchey boyfriend (again, not unlike Ethan), and she came running to Jet, asking him to fuck her till the ex was out of her mind. He became convinced that, just like Valerie, Emily would go trotting back to her ex once she got Jet out of her system.
He could be okay with it if he regarded Emily as just a fine piece of ass.
But he was growing to really care about her as a person, not just as a plaything.
So he was at a crossroads now—did he put on a happy face, enjoy some smokin’ sex, and go back to the way things were tomorrow?
Yeah, he would. He had no other choice.
Chapter Seventeen
THEY WALKED INTO the house, and Clay decided to play it cool. No way was he going to let a woman get the best of him. If she wanted Jet, she was going to get Jet. Jet had never even come close to crying over a woman or worrying what she thought. That must have been what they wanted, because no woman had ever asked for Clay.
They always asked for Jet.
Yeah, the cocky part of him thought that was pretty cool. Jet was an overly alpha persona, and women swooned around him. The problem was Jet was all an act. Jet wasn’t the real man underneath it all, but none of the women he dated seemed to understand that.
Again, not entirely true. Abby knew it and loved to kick Clay whenever she had a chance. Of course, Jet was pretty new back then. Valerie seemed to understand it too, for the most part, and she was certainly more respectful and kind about it, but she didn’t get just how much Clay was the exact and total opposite of Jet. Jet was bold, conceited, and made of steel. Clay was kind-hearted, caring, a little introverted, and cautious. He could also be hurt. He could be hurt easily and badly.
That’s why it was so fucking stupid that he’d let himself peek out. He should have regarded Emily through Jet’s eyes the entire time, but no. He’d thought of her as someone he could let himself get close to. Hell, he’d had to trust her, because she was dealing with so many personal aspects of his life. Still, he’d been foolish to not make that distinction, to just lay his heart on the table, exposed and vulnerable. What a dumb ass.
So where did they go from here? Forward, of course. He’d put on his Jet armor and ride her like a horse into battle. He was battling with his heart, but if he won, he could keep his feelings at bay and just give her the good time she was asking for. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t enjoy himself too.
He felt awkward. Again. Emily took care of that, though. “I’ve had my phone off all day, but I got a text from my dad. I need to call him really quick.”
He nodded. “Sure. Do what you gotta do.”
He felt like the wind had been let out of his sails. He needed to do something about that, though, because when she returned, she’d be expecting fun party guy Jet. He turned on the light in the kitchen and walked over to the small wine rack on the corner of the counter and pulled out a bottle of red. He wanted something stronger, but he thought Emily might prefer something that felt a little more sophisticated…not that he was doing it with her in mind. He uncorked it and grabbed two glasses, then headed to his room. He set them on the dresser next to the stereo and poured himself a glass. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, putting his glass down on the nightstand after taking a large gulp, and pulled his shoes and socks off, sliding them just under the bed so Emily wouldn’t trip on them. He took another swig and then got up to pour more in the glass. If he could just take the edge off, he could be the Jet she wanted him to be.
After a f
ew minutes and a few more swallows, she walked into the doorway to his room. He was starting to wonder if she’d changed her mind. He hadn’t had nearly enough to drink to help him shift his mood, and he’d need a minute or two to put the Jet mask on. He’d been wallowing too long. But she walked over to him, stopping just in front of him, and she pulled her tank top over her head. She was wearing a different bra now, a thin white lacey one that left little to his imagination. Okay, that helped.
Yeah, it helped a lot when she got closer and wrapped her arms around his head. Then he couldn’t resist. Those fine tits were right there. They were his for the taking, even if it was only for tonight, and he couldn’t walk away.
She reached down and took the glass out of his hand, bringing it to her lips. She downed what was left and set the glass on the nightstand. She placed her hands on the sides of his head and turned his face up to hers. She kissed him on the lips hard, and he just let himself drown in the sensation. She was so sweet, so perfect. But if she just wanted a fuck, he was gonna give it to her.
He grabbed her breasts on both sides, and when they finished kissing, he lowered his chin again so they were right in front of his face. He pushed them together and kissed the tops of them where they swelled out of her bra. She sucked in a deep breath, and he decided there was no reason to prolong it. In a matter of seconds, he unclasped her bra. He kissed her cleavage while moving his hands back to the sides of her breasts. He cupped them but slid his thumbs to the center of both. He moved his thumbs in a circular motion, one opposite the other, coaxing her nipples to grow hard. She wound her fingers through his hair, pressing against his skull, and let out another long breath.
Time to move things up a notch. He trailed his tongue up the side of one of her breasts and sucked the areola into his mouth. His fingers on the other breast took the nipple between his finger and thumb and pinched it. She gasped, tightening her grip on his hair, and she pushed on his chest, willing him to lie back.
He looked up at her and took her in. She hovered over him, looking as ravenous as he felt. He put his hands on her hips when she straddled him, his legs still dangling over the edge of the bed. She grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up, but it wasn’t moving smoothly because it was under him, so he leaned up, but he also had to take his hands off her. He threw the shirt to his side, and it landed somewhere on his bed, but he returned his hands to her hips.
He could feel the heat coming off her, and it only added to his own fever. Gone were the doubts, the second guessing, the feeling bad about himself, because right now he was doing what he knew best. She bent over and took one of his nipple rings in her mouth. God, he loved how she did that. The sensation was arousing, because he never felt the rings anymore unless someone was messing with them, and to have her warm tongue swirling it around, followed by the feeling of cool when she moved her mouth somewhere else just made his blood rush through his body faster.
He was hard, stiff as a board, and ready. He was glad she was calling the shots and didn’t feel like moving slowly either, because she started playing with the button on his jeans. She sat halfway up so she could maneuver her hands better, but he grabbed her neck and pulled her lips down to his.
He could do this just one more time business, but he couldn’t deny the electricity between them. It was like a spark or a charge, and when his lips touched hers, he could feel it through his entire body. So he knew it wasn’t necessarily Emily herself that he wanted but that feeling, because it was one he hadn’t felt in so long. Maybe she didn’t feel it. Maybe it was just him.
His thoughts slammed out of the room as her fingers wrapped around his cock. He hadn’t even registered that she’d pulled the zipper down, but she was moving forward, and now his mind was only there. Without thinking, he moved his hand that still rested on her hip and worked it up underneath that short skirt where he grabbed the front of her panties in his hand. He noticed the sensation of the soft trimmed hair underneath brushing against the top his fingers. The panties were bunched up, and he could tell that made them tight around her. He growled. “If you don’t take these off right now, I’ll rip ‘em off you.”
Her eyes grew wide, but he could see that part of her liked the idea. She was deciding if she wanted to let him ruin a pair of her underwear for the thrill. He could buy her all the panties she ever wanted, but he wasn’t going to say that. He’d already given her the option to save them. Her eyes flashed—amusement? anger? enticement?—he couldn’t tell, but she slid backward just the same and stood on the side of the bed pulling them down and off. She started to take off the skirt as well. “No, leave that on.”
She cocked her head but nodded. He slid up on the bed a little more, but his feet still dangled over the edge. She smiled, looking impish, and said, “Should I fetch a condom out of that drawer?” She pointed to the nightstand.
“Yeah, you better.” While she turned and got into the nightstand, he pulled himself the rest of the way onto the bed. He closed his eyes, thinking of her hand on his cock again and then opened them, taking her in once more. He loved the way her hair draped down her back, and even though he couldn’t see the flesh, he could picture its smooth surface in his mind. Her breasts were perfect, even in profile, and that little skirt hugging her was priceless.
She joined him back on the bed and straddled him. She’d already ripped the package open and had the condom in hand. He watched her as she held the tip of it with one hand and rolled it down over his cock with the other. Even though the condom seemed to muffle some of the overall feeling, he didn’t lose the sensation of her fingers rolling it down. He was ready.
But as she positioned herself over him, ready to slide him inside her, he licked his finger and moved it into position before she’d been able to move. He glided his finger along her slit until he found her clit, and he swirled it around with his finger. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, almost paralyzed by his touch. “Just stay right there,” he urged, letting his finger make her his slave. She rested the bottom of her hands on his pecs so that her fingertips stretched up toward his shoulders, and she dug her nails in as the pleasure increased. “That’s it.” He didn’t need to rewet his finger because her own moisture kept his motion smooth. It wasn’t long before she was crying out, unaware that her nails were tearing into his flesh, but he didn’t care. That he could make her so unable to control herself to even know what was happening around her made him satisfied. Her knees pressed into his hips, and he thought he’d have to wait a few moments for her to regain her bearings, but instead she took him inside in one swift motion, just lifting herself up, twirling her hips a little to position him right, and then she slammed down into him.
Oh, God. He sucked in a deep breath. There was nothing like this feeling, and he didn’t want it to end. He could feel the build, and he would explode at any moment, when he didn’t feel like fighting it anymore. Emily began moaning again, her orgasm continuing, and he forced himself to not let go, to hang on for dear life. It wasn’t until she was past her next crescendo that he allowed himself to release, to let it all go. His eyes were closed, but he could see her just the same, and he let that vision etch itself into his mind since this was the end.
Chapter Eighteen
EMILY TOOK IN a deep breath, not wanting to open her eyes. Part of her wanted to sleep all day.
Then she felt Clay’s arm draped around her.
Oh, yeah.
This was gonna be hard. They seemed so compatible in bed. It was going to be difficult to just walk away and go back to the way things were.
She couldn’t believe that had been her stupid idea.
She really couldn’t take it back now.
So she sat up, gently taking his arm off of her body and laying it on his side, but that was all it took for him to stir. He muttered, “What time is it?”
She glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. “Seven forty-five.”
He sprang up into a sitting
position. “Shit. You gotta get out of here.”
She couldn’t help the look that crossed her face, and she didn’t know if it was confusion, anger, or both. “What? Why?”
“Mary’s gonna be here any minute.”
She was going to say “So?” but then she realized the gravity of the situation. They couldn’t just go back to the way things had been if Mary were to find out what had happened. The woman was overprotective of her boss, and she’d likely read Emily the riot act. She might even consider talking Clay into firing her. Emily had always suspected she hadn’t been Mary’s first pick, even though the woman had treated her well. Still, Mary’s loyalty was to Clay, as it should have been. She would probably have several choice words for Clay as well. Mary didn’t hesitate to lecture Clay when she felt it wouldn’t just fall on deaf ears. So Emily took a deep breath, got her bearings, and slid off the bed.
It might have been a big bed, but she never would have known it. Clay had been next to her all night long, holding her close.
She tried to clear her head. Not good.
She spotted her panties on the side of the bed and followed her eyes to her bra and then tank top. She’d left her shoes in her room last night, so she was fine there. She bunched them all to her chest and then smiled at Clay. “See ya.”
He grinned back and nodded his chin, tucking his hands behind his head, his elbows forming vees on both sides. She darted through the house.
Well, the panic made the breakup much easier than it could have been. She went in her room and closed the door. Normally, by this time on Monday, she was already heading into the office, so she needed to get in the shower and get a move on. That way, Mary wouldn’t suspect anything.
She grabbed a robe and almost ran to the bathroom. Once she got in the shower, she relaxed a little and took her time shampooing her hair. When she finally stepped out several minutes later, she was almost sad that she couldn’t smell Clay on her anymore. She liked his smell.
Feverish (Bullet #3) Page 13
