Part 16 (1/2)

Hunter sat back against his faded couch cus.h.i.+ons with ice on his shoulder and an ear-to-ear grin on his face. Although he'd turned on the second game of a baseball doubleheader a couple hours ago, he'd be taking a flier if anyone asked him who was winning, or h.e.l.l, who was even playing.

The memory of how Emerson had looked when she'd woken up next to him this morning, how they'd split the Sunday paper over breakfast but ended up ditching both for a bunch of deep kisses he could still taste on his tongue, how her hair had tumbled over his pillows in an even combination of sweet and s.e.xy and her mouth formed a perfect smile to match?

Now that had his attention.

Haven't you ever wondered what if . . .

A knock sounded off against his front door, delivering Hunter back to his cottage with a swift dose of what-the-h.e.l.l. Barring anything unnatural-or, okay, very natural, as in, of the disaster variety-Hunter, his brothers, and their father had Sundays off while a skeleton crew of farmhands cared for the livestock on the back half of Cross Creek's property. Even during daylight hours, which at this point were quickly surrendering to dusk, company on this side of the farm was rare at best.

Then again, he hadn't answered either of his brothers' texts (Owen's being What's up with you and Emerson? And don't insult me by saying work. And Eli's less decorous but equally nosy Look at you with the hot girl! Call me with deets, jacka.s.s!), so one of them had probably decided to come out to give him a proper load of good-natured ribbing.

Hunter tugged the ice pack off his shoulder and pushed to his feet. Taking the dozen or so necessary steps to cover the ground between his couch and the front door to his cottage, he broke out a smile as he braced for brotherly impact. He twisted the doork.n.o.b and tugged the door wide on its hinges, but the person standing in front of him wasn't Owen, and it also wasn't Eli.

She was, however, the last person he'd expected to see on his doorstep.

”Emerson?” Hunter blinked, half certain his eyes were playing a mischievous trick on him in the deepening shadows. It was definitely her, though, with a nervous smile on her lips and a cla.s.sy black dress hugging her curves just enough to make his pulse sit up and take notice.

”Hey. I'm sorry for coming by without calling,” she said, but he shook his head, waving off the idea.

”No apologies. With cell service around here, it probably wouldn't have done you any good until you were in the front yard, anyway.” Hunter aimed for a neutral expression even though his head was br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with a three-to-one ratio of curiosity to concern. ”Come on in.”

”Thanks.” Emerson's heels sent an elegant clack-clack-clack over the floorboards as she followed him inside, the sound stopping short as they reached the living room. ”I hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

”Just a whole lot of channel surfing,” he said, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV. ”I didn't think I'd see you until our PT session tomorrow. Not that I mind.” He lifted a hand to rea.s.sure her, because, really, that dress was starting to give him some seriously impure thoughts. ”But is everything alright?”

”Oh yeah, everything's great. I just . . .” A self-deprecating laugh slipped past her lips, but she didn't shy away from his gaze. ”Actually, I'm full of c.r.a.p. I went to dinner at my parents' house, and the whole thing was pretty much a nightmare.”

Ah h.e.l.l. That explained the dress. Along with all the emotions swirling in her eyes like a bright-blue storm. But if Emerson's evening had already been rough, a raft of irritating questions wouldn't improve her mood, and Hunter knew far better than to coddle her with a bunch of overblown sympathy. Even if he did want to help.

”That bad, huh?”

She nodded, although she didn't lower her gaze or shy away from the question. ”Did I mention that 'nightmare' was kind of a euphemism? I left before the first course.”

”Ouch.” There was no helping his wince, or the squeeze in his gut that accompanied it. ”I'd say that definitely qualifies as pretty s.h.i.+tty. Do you want a beer to drown your troubles?”

”Thanks, but no.”

”How about some dinner?” He'd thrown back some leftovers a little while ago, but if she'd skipped out on the meal at her parents' place, she was probably hungry.

But Emerson just shook her head. ”I'm okay.”

Hunter paused. ”You want to talk about what happened with your parents?”

”G.o.d, no.”

All at once, he registered the flush riding high on her cheeks, the ever-so-slight smile shaping the bow of her mouth, and the step he took toward her was pure instinct. ”Then what do you want?”

The emotion in her eyes s.h.i.+fted, turning into unmistakable desire. ”Just you, Hunter. Right now, all I want is you.”

He didn't wait, didn't think. He just moved, bending to claim Emerson's mouth with his. The sigh that escaped from her vibrated with need against his lips, and f.u.c.k, Hunter felt it everywhere. Cupping her face with both hands to keep her close, he coaxed her lips apart, tasting his way into her mouth. Her palms flattened over his biceps, but for only a second before she curled her fingers to clutch the edges of his T-s.h.i.+rt, and the sweet sc.r.a.pe of her nails on his skin pushed him to kiss her even harder.

Emerson met his every move. Darting her tongue past her lips, she explored his mouth, licking some spots while sucking on others. His c.o.c.k throbbed, growing harder with every ministration, and she rode the sensitive skin of his lower lip with the edge of her teeth until he was sure he'd come right out of his skin.

”Emerson.” Hunter tightened his fingers on the hot silk of her skin, thrusting them back into the tidy knot at her nape. Emerson's hair unraveled over her shoulders, filling the air with the sweet, heady scent of honeysuckle, and she pulled back to pin him with a glittering stare.

”Do you remember what you said to me yesterday in bed?” She paused to run two fingers over her kiss-swollen mouth, sending his breath even faster through his lungs. ”About how you'd like it if I took charge?”

Wild, wicked thoughts flashed through his mind. ”Yeah,” Hunter grated, his legs fast-tracking toward a labor strike as he watched her index finger slide past her lips.

”Good.” Emerson dropped her hand, reaching beneath her opposite arm to lower the zipper on the side of her dress. The black fabric loosened around her lean frame, and a few well-executed dips of her shoulders sent the whole thing pooling to the floorboards.

She stepped out of both the dress and her shoes, standing in front of him in the soft glow of light filtering in from the open foyer. While her dress had been tastefully pretty-downright demure, even-her bra and panties were the polar opposite, just sheer sc.r.a.ps of material held together by nothing more than ribbons and luck. The inky lace cradled her pale skin, surrendering to the curve of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and the sweet, soft indent between her thighs, and even though Hunter knew he was staring outright, he couldn't make himself stop or look away or even blink.

Holy s.h.i.+t, Emerson was so gorgeous, it hurt.

Something he couldn't identify flickered through her eyes, there and then gone. Then she closed the s.p.a.ce between them, pressing a kiss over his mouth before leading him a few steps away to the couch. Wordlessly, she reached down for the hem of his T-s.h.i.+rt, lifting the cotton over his head with a seamless pull.

”Did you know I watched last night when you put your mouth on me?” she asked, the question sending a bolt of shock past Hunter's want-fueled haze.

”You did?” he managed, and wasn't that just every kind of hot in the book.

Emerson nodded. ”In the mirror. I watched everything. The way you kissed me. How you used your tongue to make me come.”

His heart slammed against his rib cage, his c.o.c.k t.i.tanium hard. ”And did you like watching?”

”Yes. But that's not all I like.”

Splaying her hands over her shoulders, she guided him to the couch cus.h.i.+ons with a push, but it wasn't until she lowered her body to kneel between his knees that he put one and one together to come up with the sum of oh f.u.c.k yes.

”Emerson.” Her name was a prayer in his mouth, sweet and needful.

She answered with a turn of her wrist, freeing the b.u.t.ton at the top of his jeans. ”Hunter.”

The impulse to pleasure her rolled through his chest, warring with the want burning deep in his belly. ”You're making me”-the slide of Emerson's fingers on his c.o.c.k stopped the breath in his lungs, and there went his zipper-”crazy, here.”

”You're making me crazy, too. But I won't hold back if you don't.”

Powerless to do anything else, Hunter lifted his hips to let her lower his jeans and boxer briefs. His c.o.c.k sprang free, and she captured him in one hand while wrapping the other around his waist. The friction of her fingers directly on his skin made his b.a.l.l.s go tight and his brain go numb.

Then she replaced her fingers with her mouth, and he lost what little was left of his G.o.dd.a.m.n mind.

”Oh f.u.c.k.” Hunter's breath tore from his throat on a hard exhale. Emerson's lips tilted into a smile, but she didn't slow her movements. She edged her tongue over the crown of his c.o.c.k, just a feather-light swirl of hot, wet heat, and it took every last ounce of his restraint not to buck off the cus.h.i.+ons to thrust into her mouth.

”Mmm.” As if sensing his raw need for more, she circled her fingers around his length, pumping her hand in a firm glide as she kept the strokes from her tongue soft. The opposing sensations combined to send sparks through Hunter's blood, and even though part of him was tempted to close his eyes and lose himself in the feel of her working his c.o.c.k with both her mouth and her hand, he didn't. Instead, he dropped his chin to fix his gaze directly on Emerson.

Flame-colored hair wild over one shoulder. Glossy pearls clasped around her neck, bound by a satiny black ribbon. Skin flushed. Lips parted. Up and down. Over. And over.