Love Emerged (Love Surfaced #3)

by Michelle Lynn

  She breaks the kiss, and suddenly, I’m losing the upper hand of this situation. I can tell she’s used to controlling her sexual conquests, but not this time. She tries to move down to her knees, but I grab her by the hair twisting her around fast, and she gasps.

  I tug my boxers down and strip off my T-shirt, tossing it to the floor. I move my hand between us and urge her legs apart.

  My lips move to her ear. “I’m in charge tonight, baby.” I lightly bite the lobe of her ear, earning a breathless whimper.

  My hand splays on her back to keep her in place while I retrieve the condom from my jeans. Once I have it in hand, I tear it open and roll it down my length.

  “Ready?” I tease her, rubbing the tip of my cock down the middle of her ass.

  “Yes.” She sounds all breathy and submissive.

  Could she not be the most perfect girl?

  I move into her, slow and tranquil, until she’s taken all of me. My two palms reach around and grab ahold of her tits, and I thrust out and in. She gasps at my speed but only pushes her ass harder into my pelvis. I continue to move in and out as her wetness drips down my length. She never fights me, but tips her head back, giving my teeth and tongue more access to her neck.

  Our first time was speedy, sloppy, and drunk. Good but chaotic. This time, we’ll remember our bodies moving together. I’ll be able to fully envision her tits in my hands, her smooth pussy on my tongue. I might never recover from tonight. I haven’t had many women, but she’s the best.

  “Harder,” she moans.

  I happily oblige, pinching her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.

  “Yes,” she sighs.

  I sit up more, my hands molding to her small hips, bringing me in and out of her. She holds on to the edge of the couch, keeping as much resistance as she can.

  My orgasm builds quick, and I close my eyes, trying to recite the figures from the Nike ads. The stats of their marketing in order to forget my dick is in the warmth of Bea Zanders. Luckily, when I reach the past year’s numbers in my head, she cries out.

  “I’m coming!” she yells.

  My one hand reaches around, rubbing the nub of her clit, only to make her orgasm stronger.

  Her back straightens, and she clenches around my dick until I finally come hard. My body jolts a few times before I still inside her.

  My chest rests on her back as I catch my breath, and then she bends over the back of the couch again.

  “Shit, Dylan,” she whispers.

  I laugh. “You pick now to whisper?”

  I kiss her back and slowly draw out of her.

  “Oh, believe me, my neighbors are used to it.” She giggles, and a sour taste hits my throat.

  “Bathroom?” I ask, diverting the topic of her other conquests.

  Her lips dip down, and she points down the hall. “To the right.”

  I nod and walk that way, collecting my clothes as I go.

  In the bathroom, I dispose of the condom and notice she’s out of toilet paper. I look in the cabinet under the sink and find two boxes of condoms. Not just any regular boxes. Damn Sam’s Club–sized boxes. Her comment and all these condoms remind me that I’m not dealing with another Ava. She was a fucking virgin when I started dating her. Bea’s had a hell of a lot more partners than I have. Soon, questions fill my head as I wonder if I’m capable enough to deal with someone more experienced.

  Shrugging on my clothes, I wash my hands and wipe my mouth down, which still doesn’t take her smell out of the scruff of my five o’clock shadow. I walk back into her family room, finding her perched on the chair in a robe.

  Sitting down on the couch, I put on my socks in uncomfortable silence. I feel her eyes on me. Either she’s wondering what’s going on, or she’s waiting for me to leave. I’m not sure which one.

  “You can stay, you know. We could have round two,” she says, answering my question before I even asked.

  “We have work tomorrow. I need to go.”

  I stand to leave but decide I should say something. “Listen, I’m not ready to have a girlfriend. I just got out of a relationship, and I need to focus on my career.”

  She holds her hand up in the air to stop me. “You’re way too damn polite, Dylan. It’s fine, a hook-up. No explanation needed.”

  I’m not sure why, but anger starts rising in my veins. A hot flush hits my face, and I tuck my hands into my pockets, heading to the door. It’s not because of me or the fact that I slept with a girl that half of Michigan might have also slept with. It’s the fact that she doesn’t believe she deserves better.

  I turn around to fight her indifference, but her eyes look bored either because I’m still here or because I even wanted to talk about anything but sex. The realization comes to me that it’s worthless to talk to her about my concerns, so I put on my shoes.

  When my palm is on the door, I turn back around. “Bye, Bea.”

  “See you tomorrow, Dylan.” She smiles with a condescending small wave.

  Before I go off on her and give her an unwanted lecture, I flee.

  Bea

  I PEEK IN THROUGH THE glass before walking into our office building. Not finding a six-foot-two rich boy with sandy-blond hair, I open the door and rush to the elevators just in case I missed Austin lurking. You’d think I’d be more confident after a week of no sightings, but he thrives on people’s reactions. Not feeling exceptionally attractive this morning after Dylan hightailed it out of my apartment last week, I’m dressed down, and my flats help me dodge people.

  The elevator doors open on the seventeenth floor, and I slide past an empty receptionist desk, right to my own cubicle. Shoving my purse in the drawer, I sit in my chair and boot up my computer. Hopefully, after the coffee round, everyone will have too much shit to do and won’t bother me.

  “Another bad day?” John asks, laying his messenger bag on the desk and placing a coffee in front of me.

  “We can chalk it up to a bad week, so no need for any further questions.” I put my earbuds in and sip my coffee. “Thanks for the coffee!” I yell over Coldplay screaming in my ears.

  I keep my back turned, listening to music for the entire morning, until an email pops up on my computer.

  Tim: Team meeting this afternoon. 1:00 p.m.

  A low growl erupts from my throat. I glance at my clock, seeing it’s eleven thirty now. That gives me an hour and a half to grab some food.

  I’m halfway down the hall when I spot Dylan coming from the break room. For the last few days, I’ve been successful in evading him, and although I have no choice but to face him in a little over an hour, I’m not ready yet. So, I duck into the supply room and quickly turn my back to grab some supplies. After a waft of his cologne floats in, I figure he’s past, so I turn around, only to come face-to-face with those damn dimples. Dimples that are on high alert right now.

  “You dodging me?” He stretches those muscled and tattooed long arms, putting his hands on either side of the door.

  “No, I needed to grab”—I look around and pull out a file folder—“this for a new account.”

  He nods slowly, signaling he doesn’t believe me. “Okay. About the other night—”

  I shake my head. “Don’t nice guy me. I’ve been busy. End of discussion.”

  He nods again, his eyes never leaving me. “I’ll let you get back to work then.”

  He moves out of the way to allow me through the supply room door. As I slither past him, the smell of his cologne strengthens, and visions of him between my legs surface.

  Once I’m clearly away from him and can breathe freely again, I hold up the lame file folder. “Work calls. See you around.”

  I’m halfway back down the hall, right by the receptionist when I hear him.

  “Bea?” Dylan calls out.

  I circle back around.

  “Is there a reason you bring your purse to the supply closet?”

  He raises his perfectly arched eyebrows at me again, and I want to drown in embarrassment.
Of course, he’s figured out that I’ve been hiding from him.

  “You know John. He has sticky fingers,” I loudly whisper.

  John pops out from his cubicle, narrowing his eyes at me. “Excuse me?” he says.

  Quickly, I’m losing control of this situation.

  “Bea is claiming that you’re a thief.” Dylan cocks his head at me with a smirk.

  “Bea!” John screeches.

  I roll my eyes. “I’ll see you all at the meeting.” I smile and flee out the doors to the elevators.

  AT ONE O’CLOCK EXACTLY, I’M in the conference room, my pen tapping on my notepad, as I wait for everyone else. Usually, I’d walk down with the rest of the team, but since John has refused to talk to me since I returned from lunch, I figured I’d come by myself.

  I glance at the clock and back to my blank notepad, pursing my lips at everyone else’s untimely arrival. Then, I hear the commotion from down the hall—Yasmin’s cackle of a laugh, John’s screeching storytelling, and lastly, Kevin’s hearty voice asking a zillion questions. The three of them file in and sit across from me.

  “Hey, Bea,” Yasmin says with a straight face.

  Would it kill the girl to smile?

  “Hi, guys.”

  John ignores me. I’ll have to apologize for saying he’s a thief. It’s not really a good thing around here since, a few months ago, there was someone who was, in fact, stealing.

  “John.” I sit up straighter and look directly at him.

  Just as I’m about to plea for forgiveness, Dylan walks in with Tim. Boy, those two have become close fast.

  “Yeah, Bea?” John disrupts my eyes from fixating on Dylan.

  “Oh, we can talk later.” I shoo him off.

  “Whatever,” he huffs.

  Dylan rounds the table, his sleek charcoal slacks brushing along the curve. He pulls out the chair next to me and sits down.

  “Nice to see you again,” he says to me, tossing his pad and pen on the table.

  “Hey, Deaconators,” Tim greets us.

  Lucky for me, he diverts my attention away from Dylan’s close proximity. I can’t control myself around him, and I need to because his actions spoke volumes. I’ve never had a guy leave me right after I fucked him—unless I asked him to.

  “Good afternoon, Tim,” Yasmin cheerfully says.

  I look at her, annoyed. Could she kiss up anymore?

  He smiles over to her and pulls out his notes. “So, we have something from upper management. Now, please remember, this does not come from me.”

  “Oh, this should be good,” I mumble.

  He eyes me for a second before studying the paper. “They are worried about our spending, so we will have a new accounting member in direct charge of our funds.”

  “Seriously?” Yasmin speaks her displeasure.

  Of course, she abuses the wine-and-dines with clients the most.

  “Quiet down. I don’t think it will be bad. Their expectations aren’t unreasonable. The large accounts occupy more of the pie. For the smaller accounts, you will all have to be resourceful.”

  I’ll do whatever I have to. I don’t take my clients out very often, unlike Yasmin. I usually bring a ton of pastries, cookies, or whatever to their offices and save my lunches and dinners for me and those whom I want to spend time with.

  “I have other news I’m excited to announce. But maybe you’d like to do the honor, Dylan?” Tim looks down at Dylan, but Dylan waves him off, giving him his blessing to go ahead.

  I side-look at Dylan, but his eyes remain forward.

  “All right then. We didn’t have any hands to help out in accounting, so we’re hiring someone else who will be with us part-time. He’ll also assist the business operations team. Dylan found us a great candidate, and his first day will be tomorrow.”

  Dylan looks over at me from the corner of his eye, as though wanting to see my reaction to whoever this guy is.

  “A good friend of Dylan’s, Brad Ashby, will be our budget guy, starting tomorrow.”

  My mouth falls, and my stomach drops.

  “What the fuck?” I ask, and at the same time, Kevin speaks, “Isn’t that the swimmer from Michigan who—”

  Kevin puts two and two together. He looks over at Dylan. “McCain? Are you Tanner McCain’s brother?”

  Dylan nods, proud, as he should be.

  These dipshits don’t know the true story.

  “I am, and Brad Ashby is his best friend. Yes, they were involved in something at Michigan, but that’s been cleared up for a couple of months now. Brad’s a good guy, and I think you’ll like him.” Dylan stands.

  I’m sure he wants to escape their judging eyes.

  “That’s all, guys. Go back to work, and we’re having lunch with Brad tomorrow. Team-building.” Tim leaves the room.

  I rise from my chair to bolt the hell out.

  “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose? A lunch with the budget guy,” John says as he files out of the room with Kevin and Yasmin.

  I round past Dylan to hide back in my cubicle.

  “Can I talk to you for a second?” Dylan’s hand lands on my arm.

  My eyes close as I search for any ounce of willpower I might have against this guy.

  I spin around and wait for him to talk first.

  “I want to apologize for leaving. I just—God, can we go out for a drink after work?”

  “No. I already told you to quit sweating it. We’re good,” I lie because I am offended. He made me feel like a slut. But if I tell him I’m hurt, then that’ll only open me up to more pain, and I can’t let that happen.

  “You okay with Brad coming here?” He changes subjects, which shows how much he really gives a shit about me. He doesn’t.

  “Well, I have to be, don’t I?” I back up, putting space between us. “Excuse me, Dylan. I need to finish working on the Fraedrich’s account.” I twist around and leave the room before he can touch me or object.

  My phone is vibrating off the edge of my desk when I return. I totally forgot to grab it on my way to the meeting. Right before it catapults to the floor, I pick it up.

  Mom. Sigh.

  I swipe across the screen because I don’t have a choice. She’s called restaurants to have me paged before. She’ll stop at nothing to talk to me.

  “Hey, Mom,” I answer, sulking in my chair.

  “Sweetie, I’m back in town, and I need you to come see me tonight.”

  Again? Why is she here again?

  “Why are you back this time?”

  “Just come and see me after work, okay?”

  I pull the phone from my ear to make sure I really am talking to my mom. She’s way too sweet to be the woman who raised me.

  “Okay.”

  “Great. I love you.”

  Say what?

  Click. The line goes dead.

  I’m confused and wondering why she’s back in Detroit and why on earth she’s being overly nice to me.

  Before I can put the phone down, a text message rings in.

  Dylan: Let’s go out tonight. I want to talk.

  Bea: I have plans. Another night.

  Dylan doesn’t respond back, and I don’t mean to be a bitch, but he’s acting like I should fall at his feet and beg him to give me the reason he ran out the other night. I hadn’t expected roses and candy, but an hour would have been nice.

  Is that because I enjoy his company though? Am I the screwed-up one in our friendship?

  Dylan: I’m holding you to that.

  First, I need to figure out why the hell my mom is here. I send a quick message to Tim that I have to leave early for a meeting with the Fraedrich’s, and then I pack up.

  Just like two weeks ago, I’m out of the building and on my way to the MGM. The only difference is my taxi driver.

  This time though, when I knock on the penthouse door, Helen answers.

  “Beatrice,” she says in her thick Asian accent, “you upset me.”

  “Hi, Helen. Why is that?” I walk int
o an empty room and look to the right and left for my mom. Let’s get this talk done.

  “You not stay here last time.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I was in a rush.”

  “Hey.” She pinches my blouse and pulls me into her room of the suite.

  “Helen!” I screech.

  But she ignores my attempts to break free. It’s like I’m fifteen again, and she caught me with a boy.

  “So, your mama is in a dire place. She’s passed out right now in her bed. She’s depressed, so you be nice to her.” She pokes me in the chest. “Promise me.”

  I take her thin finger and remove it from between my breasts. “I got it, but let’s wake her up.” I weave by her small stature and walk directly to my mom’s room.

  Lucky for me, she’s up and ready to tell me why she’s returned to Detroit. She might be a little more disheveled than usual, but she’s coherent.

  “What’s up, Mom?”

  “Beatrice,” Helen says from behind me, “I asked you.”

  “Thanks, Helen. I’ll take it from here.” My mom holds her hand to halt her five-foot bodyguard.

  “Beatrice you see me before you leave,” she says and retreats back to her room.

  I sit down in the chair in the corner. “Why are you back?”

  “Can’t I see my daughter?”

  There have been other times when men have left her, and she never called me, let alone visited.

  “Are you this upset about William leaving you?”

  “Yes, and no.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Let’s go to the sitting room.” She leads with her lighted up joint and a bottle of bourbon in her hands.

  She sits down in the same spot she was in two weeks ago while I stand next to the window to keep away from her while she smokes her joint. I thought for sure she’d be onto her next victim by now.

  Her lips turn down, and she smashes the end of the joint into the ashtray, extinguishing it. “Your grandmother called.”

  “From the grave?” I walk over to snatch away her bourbon.

  Her eyes pierce into mine, and I place her bottle back down.

  “Your father’s mother, June.”