Easing back slightly, Emma looked up at him. Her eyes were the clearest blue he’d ever seen, ringed in navy, and full of intelligence.
Something delicious tripped through his veins as she slid one hand slowly up his torso, never breaking eye contact, and cupped his jaw. His breath sped up, but he held himself still, letting her set the pace as she rose onto her toes and simultaneously drew him down.
The first kiss was the gentlest of caresses and still his body tightened with desire. She came back for more and he eagerly returned the favor, relearning the shape of her soft lips, the minty taste of her as she opened for him. Not in a million years had he expected to have another chance.
Her right hand skimmed over his back, his buttocks, across his abs, and down the front of his thigh.
His dick throbbed and hardened, aching for her touch.
God, the overwhelming lust transported him right back to the front walk of her dorm and a first kiss that still stunned him on the rare occasions he let himself think about it. Being with her again brought all the old hurt and longing to the surface. Kissing her was easy. Dealing with the emotional turmoil it raised was not.
Jason wanted to pull away, to slow things down, to find another way to ease the pain and fear she needed to vanquish. But, Jesus, her lips and tongue were instruments of heaven, and her hands were all over him now, lifting his shirt, dipping into his pockets, torching his skin while he gripped her hips and fought for control.
You both just watched a man die.
The reminder was a splash of cold water on his libido.
“Emma,” he whispered against her mouth, unable to stop himself from nipping her lower lip as he loosened his hold. “Emma, take it easy.”
She gasped and pulled out of his embrace, breathing hard, her hands balled into fists where she clasped them to her chest. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.”
The disoriented look in her eyes made his heart clench, and he pocketed his own hands to keep from reaching for her. It wasn’t just gallantry on his part, it was self-preservation. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I’ve owed you that for years now.”
“Don’t,” she said, sounding almost angry. “Let’s not…go there.” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Can I get you a glass of water?” Turning on her heel, she crossed the small room to the kitchen. “Or there might be a soda in the fridge.”
As hot as their little make-out session had been, he could probably drink a gallon of water at the moment. But he shook his head. “Thanks, but now that we’ve dodged the reporter, I should probably head back to my hotel.” His feet felt like lead, but leaving was the right thing to do. For both of them.
“Will I see you again?”
His optimistic heart leapt. “I’d like that. I’m at the Hotel Richter on Pilatusstrasse.” He took a business card from his wallet and held it out to her. “Or you can look me up when you get home.”
Her fingers brushed his as she took the card, sending little jolts of want through his limbs. She studied the card. “West Coast Director?”
He shuffled his feet, still not used to the lofty title. “It just means I’m in charge of the new office we opened in LA a few months ago.”
“Nice.” She smiled and raised her eyebrows, as if impressed. She tucked his card into the back pocket of her ruined pants.
“Are you going to be okay after what happened today?” he asked. She seemed to alternate between falling apart and totally put together. He could relate, though he had more experience dealing with the aftermath of violence than she did. Most of his disorientation currently stemmed from seeingheragain. “If you need to talk, you can call me, even if it’s late. The fallout from this kind of thing can hit you when you least expect it.”
“I appreciate that.” She licked her lips. “Will you be all right?”
If he touched her, he might never want to leave, so he simply nodded and turned to go.
Once outside in the warm evening air, the sweets in a bakery window enticed him into the tiny shop, which smelled like heaven. He had a massive sweet tooth that he’d deprived for years as an athlete and model, and later as a PJ. These days, he let himself indulge.
Right now, he especially needed a little pick-me-up.
Five minutes later, he was on the way out with an apple tart and a few small cookies. He’d just popped a cookie in his mouth when he spotted the blond reporter standing outside Emma’s building.
How the hell had she found them?
Staying in the shadow of a wide pillar, he watched as the woman tapped on her phone’s screen, tucked it into her shoulder bag, and entered the building through the glass doors.
Shit.
He jogged across the plaza and entered just as she disappeared into the elevator. Acting on instinct, he ran up the four flights of stairs, ignoring his thigh’s angry protests. He peered through the window in the fire door at the end of the hall in time to see her stop in front of unit 303.
