With that thought, I do my best to lead us up the stairs without either of us ending up back in the hospital—I’ve seen enough of the inside of it for the week. My hand shakes when his teeth scrape over my thrumming pulse and the sharp sting shoots through me like a runaway train heading south .
“Turn the key, Angel. There’s so many more ways I can make your breath catch like that, but you need to let us inside.”
My grip on the key tightens and I turn it, swinging the door open. A heartbeat later, my back is flat against the wall. Emmett hooks my leg around his hip and groans.
“Careful,” I warn him.
“Fucking rules.” He rolls his hips against me. The friction is everything and my head hits the wall. “We’ll have to get creative until I can fuck you the way I want to.”
“And how’s that?” The anticipation of his answer drives me just as wild as the demanding press of his fingers into my hip. He uses the leverage to drive himself against me. Another rough stroke has my mouth falling open.
He doesn’t answer, instead dragging me from the wall by my hand across the kitchen to the table. He pushes the chair back, making it scrape against the floor and then urges me backwards, hands bracketing my hips until I hit the edge of the table.
His mouth is on mine, and I’m just trying to keep up with the pace he’s setting. It matches the spinning in my head. His thumblights a path across my stomach, right above the elastic of my scrubs.
“These—can I take them off?”
“If you want.”
Yes, please is more like it, but I manage not to appear too eager.
“If I—” He takes my hand in his, and when he places it over his hard cock, it jumps in my hand. “You make me this fucking hard without even trying. You should never have to question it.”
Heat floods every inch of me. No one’s ever looked at me the way Emmett does, but he makes wanting me look like the easiest thing in the world.
“It’s deeply unfair,” I whisper, “that you say things like that and expect me to function afterwards.”
His mouth curves slowly, eyes fixed on mine like he’s enjoying every second of my unraveling
“I’ve been barely functioning around you for weeks. Feels fair.”
My head buzzes.
His hand falls away, and one swift move has my pants around my knees. “And I want every inch of you under every inch of me. But what I need is to be buried so deep inside you I leave a mark no one else can ever touch.”
“You really have a way with words.” I reach for the hem of my scrub top and pull it over my head.
“Do I?”
I shiver. “Uh-huh. That mouth really does things for me.”
He smirks. Jesus, it’s potent.
“Just wait until you see what else I can do with it.”
Everywhere his gaze touches tingles as he takes me in. His hands go to my waist, and I help him lift me onto the table. Then I lean back on my palms, barely breathing, his touch leaving goose bumps behind as they climb my ribs, skirting the swellsof my breasts and tracing the lines of my lace bralette until he reaches the straps and pushes them off my shoulder.
“Pretty as fuck,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I arch, reaching behind me.
An appreciative noise rumbles in Emmett’s throat as I flick the clasp open, my chest pushed out.
“Every piece of you is better than the last.”
With the cool air chilling my skin, I realize how clothed he is in comparison.
“I’m feeling very on display.” Nervous laughter bubbles out of me, but the vulnerability of being so mismatched sends a wave of heat through me, and my nipples peak to tender buds.
