I breathed in the scent of her, all damp skin and coconut shampoo. Fuck, I’d never be able to go on a tropical vacation again without thinking of her.
“He said—he said I would know when I wanted to kiss him.”
“And?” I leaned in closer, close enough where I felt her breath on my cheek.
“He also said I wouldn’t be nervous.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.
I arched a brow. What would I do if she didn’t want to kiss me? I’d back away, but it would be one of the hardest fucking things I’d ever had to do. I also worried that once I had a taste of her, I wouldn’t be able to let her go. “Are you?”
“Nervous? Hell, yes.” Her gaze lifted to mine. Held. “But I want to kiss you anyway.”
She wrapped her hand around the back of my neck and pulled me in, so our lips collided. This wasn’t a sweet brush of lips. This was more. Tugging me closer, she obviously wanted more, but the little sound she made had me taking control.
Her mouth was soft and pliant and just absolutely fucking perfect. Tilting my head, I nibbled at her lower lip, licking and sucking at the plump swell, then when she gasped, I took the kiss deeper. Tasted her. Turning, I moved us both, so that she bumped into the counter. Without breaking contact with her lips, I grabbed her trim waist and lifted her up easily, placing her on the counter alongside the take-out containers. She widened her knees, and I stepped between them, so we were close enough where her breasts pressed against my chest, and my cock nestled perfectly at the apex of her thighs. I felt the heat of her through my jeans and her tiny shorts. I took my hands off her waist and placed them on the cool counter on either side of her, only our mouths touching.
She tasted of toothpaste; she must have brushed her teeth when she’d showered. I began to kiss and nibble along her jaw and up to her ear, felt the damp tendrils of hair against my nose. “You smell so fucking good.”
“Shampoo,” she breathed. Her head angled to the side, and I took the opportunity to kiss and lick down the long line of her neck.
“Emory,” I murmured as I shifted to kiss the corner of her mouth.
“Hmm?”
“Are you nervous now?”
I pulled back, so I could look at her, our noses almost bumping. She was breathing as hard as I, her lips red and glistening. Her eyes were unfocused, and her cheeks were flushed. “Am I…?”
I tilted her chin up with my thumb. “Nervous?”
She shook her head, the long, damp curls of her hair beginning to frame her face. “No.”
“Good.” It would be easy to strip down and have her right here on the counter. But now wasn’t the time. My cock didn’t agree, but for the moment, it wasn’t in charge. Emory was more than a quick fuck, more than a release.
“That’s what I’ve been missing?” she asked, surprise lacing her words. She lifted her fingers to cover her lips.
I took those fingers and brought them to my own lips and kissed the soft tips.
“That’s what we’ve both been missing.”
She crinkled her brow and looked away. “I didn’t know.”
I moved my head back into her sights. “Didn’t know?” I prodded gently.
“I didn’t know this was normal.”
I gently cupped her jaw in both my hands, made her look at me. “Baby, this isn’t normal at all.”
It wasn’t. It wasn’t anywhere close to normal. With one kiss, I was ruined. Nothing would ever be the same again, and that was just a fucking kiss.
“It’s not like this with the other women?”
I saw a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, and I wanted to wipe that away. “What other women?” She fought my hold, and I let her go. “I can’t erase my past any more than you can.”
“There’s… there’s been no one else.” She looked down at the front of my shirt, ran a finger over one of the glossy snaps. “Since my husband. Even then, I wasn't very good.”
I froze at her words, my body tensing, and she sensed it, her eyes lifting to meet mine. “Who told you you weren’t any good?” When she glanced away, I tilted her chin back with my thumb, forced her to look at me. “Who?”
Her dark gaze held self-doubt. Disappointment. Worry. “My ex.”
I cursed under my breath, ready to go out and beat the shit out of the fucker, wherever the hell he was, but Emory didn’t need my anger now, and I sensed she thought I was upset with her.
“That kiss, baby, was hot. Seriously hot.”
She angled her head a fraction of an inch while furrowing her brow. “Then why…?”
“Tell me,” I urged when she cut off her question and bit her lip. If she thought she wasn’t enough for me, then I had to set her straight, here and now.
Looking at me through her long lashes, she asked, “Then why don’t you touch me?”
I pushed off the counter to stand before her, forcing her head to tilt up to look at me. I ran my hand over the back of my neck. “I'm not touching you because if I put my hands on you, I won’t stop.”
“Oh,” she whispered, her eyes shifting from wary to soft and a little bit tender.
“Yeah, oh. Look at you.” I pointed at her before crossing my arms, a safe place for them away from her. “Your hair is all tousled and smells like heaven, your mouth is all swollen from my kisses. Mine. I can’t miss your hard nipples through that skimpy little top and your legs. Jesus, your legs are spread like you want to be fucked, and I ache to step between them again.”
Of course, as soon as I said all that she crossed her arms over her chest and clamped her legs shut. Good, now she could see how fucking dangerous she was.
“You don’t mind that I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“You think it bothers me that you’re inexperienced?”
She nodded.
I smiled at her, and my heart hurt, wishing I could chase the shadows away. I would. I would take all those feelings of self-doubt away, one kiss, one touch at a time.
“I’m going to love seeing what makes you hot. What gets you wet. What makes you come.”
Chapter 13
EMORY
“It’s been five days. Five days, Em, and now you’re telling me?” Christy pointed her fork at me. “I mean, he’s seriously hot.”
I glanced around, seeing if anyone else in the hospital cafeteria was paying attention to us. I felt uncomfortable enough sharing the details about Gray with my friend and didn’t want anyone else at the hospital to know either. It wasn't that I didn't want to tell her, I just had a hard time telling anyone. How did I explain it? How did I explain him? The connection? The chemistry?
“I barely said more than goodbye to you at the party after he and I talked, and besides, it’s not like I left with him.” I stabbed my fork into the leftover pasta, spun it in circles so it wound around it.
“You went out to lunch with him on Sunday, and he was at your house for dinner last night!”
Thankfully, my mouth was full of the spaghetti from the diner, so all I had to do was nod.
“Is he,” Christy looked left and right, then leaned in. “Is he… good?”