“In the summer, we can tell HR and everyone, and it gives them months of working it out before the next season.” I nod, fully in agreement. "So, you wanna take a chance on me? On this?"
“Yes.” I don’t even hesitate as I lean forward and kiss him softly.
"Finally." He chuckles before his mouth crashes against mine in hunger. And oh god, this isn't like the pool. This isn't frantic or desperate or stolen, this is him claiming me. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I moan as I grip his shoulders and feel the muscle shift under my hands. He kisses me until I'm dizzy, until I forget where I end and he begins. My hips roll against him, and he groans into my mouth. I can feel how hard he is beneath me.
"Bedroom," I gasp when we break apart.
"You sure?"
"Emmett, if you don't take me to your bedroom right now, I'm going to lose my mind."
He stands, lifting me with him, and my legs wrap around his waist. I can feel him pressed against me through our clothes. He carries me down the hall and kicks open his bedroom door. The room is dark except for the city lights filtering through the windows, his bed is huge, unmade. But I don’t care, we are about to mess it up anyway. He sets me on my feet and steps back.
"I need you to know something," he says.
"What?"
"Every day I've thought about all the things I want to do to you."
Heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly. "Show me."
His hands go to the zipper at the back of my dress. "Can I?"
"Yes."
He slides it down slowly, the dress pooling at my feet. His eyes drop to my bra, the sexy lace one Collette insisted I wear.
"Fuck, Joelle." He growls as my bra hits the floor next. He just looks at me, his breathing ragged. "You're perfect," he says. "So, fucking perfect."
My heart wants to explode, he is so fricken perfect. I’ve never had a man worship me like this man does.
"Your turn," I say as I reach for his shirt, pulling it over his head to display his body. Broad shoulders. Defined chest. Abs that flex when I run my fingers over them. And lower …
"Jo." His voice is strained. "Keep looking at me like that and this is going to be over embarrassingly fast."
I smile. "We have all night."
"We do." He hooks his fingers in my underwear and slides them down. I'm naked and standing in front of him, and I've never felt more powerful.
"Get on the bed," he says.
It's not a request. It's a command. And oh God, I like it. I climb onto his bed, the sheets smell like him, that clean masculine scent that makes me want more. He strips off his jeans, his underwear, and there he is, hard and ready andmine.
"Spread your legs," he orders. I obey. He kneels between my thighs, his hands rough and warm on my skin. "I need to taste you first," he murmurs. "Been dying to taste you again."
"Emmett …" Then his mouth is on me, making me cry out and arch off the bed. He pins my hips down with one strong arm, the other hand working its magic on me. Two fingers. Curling. Finding that spot that makes me see stars.
"Oh God … oh fuck …"
"That's it." His voice is muffled against me. "Let me hear you." His tongue circles my clit, flicks, sucks. I'm already so close, wound so tight from months of wanting this, wanting him.
"Emmett, I'm going to …"
"Come for me. I want to feel it." His fingers curl harder, his mouth relentless, I shatter, screaming his name, my whole body convulsing. Before I can recover, he's moving, opening the bedside table, and pulling out a condom. He rolls it on and then positions himself between my legs.
"Look at me," he demands. I force my eyes open. He slowly pushes inside, inch by inch, stretching me, filling me completely, we both groan.
"You feel incredible," he grits out. "So tight. So perfect." He starts to move, deep strokes that hit something inside me that make my toes curl. I cling to his shoulders, feeling the flex and release of muscle, the heat of his skin, the way his breath hitches when I clench around him.
