Page 58 of Blitzing Emily

His mouth came down on hers, firm but tender. She speared her fingers through his curls. His tongue slid into her mouth, stroking hers, teasing and igniting. She grabbed at him with greedy hands, pulling him closer. He was a starving man, and she was a four-course feast. The lipstick she’d applied earlier was long gone. Minutes later, she was flushed, sweaty, and more turned on than she could remember being since the last time they went at each other in a semi-public place. She would have to do some thinking later about why they were making out in his car when she had a perfectly good bed behind a locked door, less than a hundred feet away.

“More?” he asked.

“God, yes,” she groaned.

He slid one hand under the fabric of her dress, slowly scraping her hardened nipple with his thumb as he kissed his way down her neck. The rough calluses on his fingers from lifting weights almost drove her out of her mind when he cupped and caressed the delicate skin. She let out a moan. She heard his soft laugh.

In the midst of a drugging stew of hormones, adrenaline, and lust it occurred to Emily that she was going to have one hell of a beard burn later. It didn’t stop her from grabbing his face and pulling his mouth onto hers again. Second base wasn’t enough right now. She reached out to drag her fingers over the bulge in his pants, too.

She heard something that sounded like tapping on the driver’s side window. They both ignored it. The tapping got more insistent.

Brandon pulled his mouth off hers, and jerked his hand out of the V-neck of her dress. He was breathing hard. His blue-green irises were almost black with arousal. He turned in his seat to wipe enough of the condensation off the car’s window to see out of it.

Emily yanked up the top of her dress, and ran one finger over her lips to salvage whatever lipstick she could.

One of Emily’s neighbors, a previously harmless older woman, was standing outside the car when Brandon lowered his window.

“Emily, I got some of your mail by mistake. I thought you might need it.” She smiled innocently as she handed two sales flyers, an envelope full of coupons to local businesses, and the garbage bill to Brandon. “Have a nice evening, you two.”

The neighbor scuttled inside her house after Brandon showed his teeth.

IN THE END,reason prevailed. Well, she also knew it would not be a great idea to blow off Seattle Opera’s management and the company’s most ardent financial supporters. It took a Herculean amount of self-control to resist dragging him to her bedroom and finishing what they’d started. Putting herself back together without benefit of hair stylist or makeup artist was quite a challenge as well. Tendrils of hair dangled from her formerly perfect French twist. Her skin was rosy from Brandon’s kisses and the amateur dermabrasion of beard burn. Her dress was surprisingly intact.

“If we stayed home, I’d turn you inside out,” he assured her.

“I still have to go to the benefit. I have to ... Well, I promised I would be there.”

His mouth curved into a smile. He looked rumpled and even more adorable as a result. She was afraid she just looked like a mess.

“You’ve talked me into it. I’m going to need more than appetizers, though. We’re stopping at Burgermaster on the way home.”

They could both afford the finest restaurants. At the same time, the thought of going to a drive-in with a man in a tuxedo made her smile again. It wouldn’t be an NFL star and an opera diva, for once. It would be two people who enjoyed each other’s company, no matter where they found themselves.

They arrived at McCaw Hall a few minutes before starting time. Brandon surrendered the keys to the valet, but he insisted on helping Emily out himself.

“Maybe I should carry you again.”

“I’d make quite an entrance.”

He set her on her feet, draped the wrap around her shoulders, and offered his arm again. “Shall we, my lady?”

“Please tell me I do not look like a gigantic mess,” she said.

“Every guy here will take one look at you and know I am the luckiest man in America,” he said.

They walked through a gauntlet of video cameras and press photographers shouting their names.

“Sugar, if we pose for them, they may leave us alone,” he said into her ear.

“That’s what you think.”

He turned toward the cameras, sliding a protective arm around her waist. She rested her forehead against his chest for a moment. The flashes were blinding. “Emily, smile for us,” one of the photographers shouted. “Let’s see that ring.”

She laid her left hand on Brandon’s arm. More flashes erupted as a result.

Brandon thanked them, and then ushered her inside the hall.

“That went well,” he said.

---