But fuck if I didn’t want to.
Still do, even though IT. CAN’T. HAPPEN. AGAIN.
I should get it tattooed on my forearm as a reminder. Right, like that would stop me.
Slamming the tailgate with more force than necessary does little to alleviate my frustration. I should’ve put some time in on the heavy bag hanging in the corner of my garage, especially since my cold fucking shower didn’t help one bit. But there wasn’t much time as I packed for the next few days, not knowing how long we might be gone.
Satisfied we have enough supplies for whatever comes, I climb in and head out to get the object of my latest obsession. It’s a welcome relief to be thinking about something besides the atrocities that usually take up my headspace, but it also leaves me feeling guilty for the reprieve.
If I thought my mind was a twisted mess before, it’s nothing compared to the tangled catastrophe happening now.
Emerson’s giggle at the story she’s telling about my nephew and niece shouldn’t be causing me to get hard, but fuck if it does. If anything, her story should be a mood killer because she knows my family better than I do. Only proving once again she’s too good for me.
Standing watch over her today as she completed her assessment of the target location was torture. The competence with which she went about her work was a turn-on. The hiking pants, which shouldn’t have been alluring, molding to her plump ass and thick thighs each time she bent over had me walking around half-chubbed all day.
Her pale blonde hair in twin braids over her shoulders had me envisioning them wrapped around my fists as I take her frombehind. Not even the wide brimmed outback style hat she wore detracted from her appeal.
Now she’s relaxing by the small fire I allowed, eating her simple dinner of tacos with gusto. Even that is almost too fucking much for me to handle. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but she’s completely captivated me. I’ve never been so utterly infatuated with any woman.
Ever.
The glances I catch from her when she doesn’t think I’m looking don’t fucking help either. The lust and desire in those brief peeks have my body buzzing. It’s getting harder and harder to remember the number one rule—no dating the client.
Needing some distance from her, I stand abruptly. “I’m going to do a perimeter check,” I mutter, ignoring the way her eyebrows shoot in the air and she blinks slowly as I leave.
Thankfully, she’s already in the tent when I return. I douse the fire and climb the ladder to join her. She doesn’t stir as I settle in next to her, keeping as far away as I can. With a heavy breath, I close my eyes, resigning myself to what I’m sure will be a long, restless night.
My hands skim over Emerson’s curves in the most realistic dream I’ve ever had. Her soft flesh beneath my fingertips is like silk. Cupping the generous weight of one breast with my left hand, my right delves under the waistband of her sleep shorts.
A groan tears from me when I find her sans panties. My fingers slide through the curls of her mound as she lifts her leg, resting it on my thigh, granting me access. My dick weeps when I find her folds already wet for me. The fingers on her breast tweak her peaked nipple.
She moans, “Clancy.”
My name on her lips in ecstasy is the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, but it has me going stock-still. Reality brusquely washes over me.
I’m not fucking dreaming.
My front is tight against Emerson’s back, arms clutching her to me as I take liberties in the early morning light. Her hips thrust against my immobile hand seeking friction.
I clear my throat. “Emerson?” My voice is rough with her name. I have no idea if she’s asleep or awake.
“Why’d you stop?”
Her breathy reply has my dick—which I now realize is snug between her ass cheeks—throbbing. Well, that assuages one fear. I’m not assaulting her in her sleep, but I’m torn with indecision whether to continue what I’ve inadvertently started or do what’s right and put some much needed distance between us.
“If you’re not going to finish what you’ve started, get the hell out of bed so I can,” she grumbles, taking the decision out of my hands.
My forehead falls to her shoulder with a groan. “Fuck woman. You can’t say shit like that.”
She gasps as I find her clit, circling the bundle of nerves. “Why not?”
“Because it makes me lose what little control I have when it comes to you.”
“Is that so bad?” Each word comes out between panting breaths.
“It breaks the number one rule, no dating the client.” I groan as her inner walls flutter around the finger I’ve slid inside her. I slip another in, stretching her.
“Fucking’s not dating.” The last word ends with a wail as my fingers pick up speed, her orgasm barreling down on her.
