Emmett nods, but his eyes land on my lips.
"But ..."
Then his eyes shoot up and look at me directly.
"Fuck it," I say as I launch myself at him.
17
EMMETT
One second, she's sitting beside me, all tense, telling me nothing can happen. And the next, she's launching herself at me, her lips crashing into mine.
Fuck.
For a split second, I freeze, my brain short-circuiting. This is wrong. Every rule I've ever set for myself is screaming at me to stop. The right thing to do is to stop.
Fuck it.
Need takes over as my hands slide into her hair, the strands soft and silky. I fist them as I angle her head and kiss her back, hard, deep, taking everything she's offering and demanding more. This. This is what I've been craving since London. Her mouth is hot. Desperate. Her tongue sweeps against mine as she whimpers into my mouth. That sound ... Christ, that sound shoots straight to my cock. I'm already hard, I have been since she showed up in that see-through tank top with her nipples pressing through the fabric. But now I'm painfully, achingly hard. Her hands clutch at my T-shirt, pulling me closer, and I can't help myself. I wrap my arm around her waist and haul her onto my lap so she's straddling me.
The hoodie. My hoodie with my name on the back rides up, exposing her bare thighs as they press against my hips through my sweats.
Shit.
She grinds down on me, and I hiss through my teeth, my grip tightening on her waist. I can feel her heat through the thin fabric. It's driving me insane.
"Fuck, Trouble," I growl against her lips.
"Don't call me that," she breathes, but she's kissing me again before I can respond. Harder. Deeper. Her hips roll against mine in a rhythm that's going to make me lose my mind. My hands slide under the hoodie, where I find bare skin, she's so soft and warm. I grip her waist, my thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts through that thin tank top. That’s right, no bra. I can feel her nipples, hard peaks pressing against my palms. She arches into me. Moaning. That sound. That fucking sound is going to haunt me.
"Wait," I manage, pulling back slightly even though it kills me. "We can't ..."
Her brows pull together. "You don't want to?" She sounds hurt.
"Fuck, Trouble. I want to. I so fucking want to. But I don't want you to regret it."
She licks her plump lips. "One time." Her hazel eyes darken with want, her pupils blown wide. "Just once. To get it out of our system before we have to work together."
"Joelle ..."
“We keep dancing around each other. I can't stand it anymore. I want this ..." She stumbles over her words. "I want this … want for you out of my system."
"You think after another taste this need between us vanishes?" Because I sure as hell know that I'm going to want more, so much more.
"It has to. This moment right now, and then we never speak of it again. Tomorrow, we're colleagues. Professional relationship. Nothing more."
I should say no, push her off my lap, and walk away before this gets any more complicated. But I'm not that strong. Not when it comes to her.
"One time," I repeat.
She nods. "One time."
I cup her face with both hands, my thumbs brushing her swollen lips, her cheeks flushed. "You sure about this? Because once we start, I'm not stopping if this is the only chance I have to have you."
"Stop talking and kiss me, Captain."
The way she says it. Breathless. Commanding. It breaks whatever restraint I have left. I crush my mouth to hers, pouring months of frustration into the kiss. All the nights I've spent thinking about London. About her. About this happening again. She meets me with equal intensity, her fingers sliding into my hair, tugging hard enough to sting. I groan, my hands roaming over her body, up her sides to feel her ribs expand as she breathes, then across her back, pulling her closer, and down to grip her ass through those shorts. I squeeze. She grinds down on me again, harder this time. I nearly lose it right there.
