Page 59 of All I Need (Hearts of the South)
“Go ahead, Em. Tell the nice people what you two were doing when I got there.”
“Drag-racing patrol cars.” Emmett blew out a long breath and glared at Clark. “Why don’t you tell them the rest of the story, Clark? Who was flagging us and who was timing us?”
“Oh, if I remember correctly, Chief Singleton was flagging you.” Clark winked in the direction of Savannah’s table. “And Investigator Cook was timing you.”
Calvert pinned Cook with a baleful look. “Seriously?”
Cook shrugged. “They were young and stupid, and if you’d found out, you’d have fired Troy Lee on the spot.”
“I might still fire him on the spot.” But a hint of humor lurked around the line of his mouth.
“You’re my best friend, Emmy.” Clark spoke rapidly against the mike, still grinning.
“You’re a dead man, Clark.”
“Maybe you should sing.” He played the opening bars to “Amazing Grace,” and Emmett joined in with strong, clear notes. Quiet settled over the room except for the gentle piano melody and the purity of his voice. Laughter forgotten, Savannah let herself be pulled into the spell of that beautiful tenor. The pair segued easily into a handful of other hymns.
When it was over, the remaining audience drifted out quietly in pairs and small groups. Savannah remained in her seat after her sister and brother-in-law hugged her goodbye and made their way out with the others. Emmett perched on his stool, one foot on the floor, and packed away his violin, sometimes slanting a smile or a comment at Clark or Troy Lee. She watched him, her heart aching for some reason she didn’t quite understand.
Gates had been easy, the best, the love of her life.
She didn’t know how to define Emmett, but oh, she wanted to.
He eased down from the low stage, when she imagined in another life, he’d have leaped. An adrenaline junkie, an incredible musician, a man with depths she didn’t begin to comprehend.
She wanted to peel all those layers away, until he was laid bare with her.
And what exactly did thatmean?
Case in hand, he approached, a slight smile curving his mouth. He took her breath.
That should scare her to death, send her running, and all she wanted tonight was to live, to breathe him in. She wanted him inside her, running through her veins.
His smile widened to a grin. “Haley’s spending the night with Landra, so I can have a later curfew.”
He held out a hand, and she rose to take it, using the leverage to pull him into her, chest to chest, abdomen to abdomen, thigh to thigh. She held his startled gaze and leaned in to whisper at his ear. “I want you.”
A sharp inhale, and he stepped away, his eyes impossibly dark and intense, like the lime pit in the night. “You’ve got me.”
* * * * *
They didn’t make it all the way home. Lime Pit Road was closer, and the ridge offered darkness and a primal privacy. He stepped out of the truck, intending to grab sleeping bags and toss them on the back, but she followed him out, shrugging out of her jacket and shedding the gorgeous green blouse that made her hair and eyes shine. In kind, he pulled his sweater, soaked with sweat already, over his head and tossed it in the floorboard. Her bra went over her head, and she peeled away sleek black pants while he shoved down his jeans, forgot he had on boots, then had to fight those and his jeans off.
Sideways on the driver’s seat, she tore the condom wrapper and sheathed him. He groaned under her firm touch around his erection. If slow and easy had ever been a consideration, it was out the window. Her knees cradled his thighs and she clutched at the back of his head with one hand.
“Now.” Moonlight glittered off her eyes and those opal earrings. “Please.”
He was inside her, heat and wetness closing around him, and she was all he could feel, all he could breathe. Forehead on her shoulder, he braced one hand on the dash, one on the doorframe, getting as deep inside her as he could, wanting her to forget where she ended and he began. Cool opal and gold brushed his neck, heated fingers grasped his nape, her small sounds filling his ears—a moan, a little gasp with every too-hard thrust, her murmured “Em.”
It was on them too fast, her body clutching around his, so he didn’t know what was her orgasm and what was his, except the release tore a yell from his throat and for a long moment he really couldn’t breathe. His turn to gasp, his knees weak, and he kept his forehead pressed to her shoulder because, damn it, his eyes burned with tears.
She cupped her hand across the back of his head, and he felt the laughter build in her, curves shaking against his angles. He pulled back enough to dash a hand across his eyes, and a rueful chuckle lifted his chest. “This is not what I had in mind. I feel like I should apologize or something.”
“Never.” She pulled him to her, skin on skin, and she kissed his neck. “This was perfect.”
No one had ever referred to anything he’d done as perfect. He rested his chin atop her head and splayed a hand across her spine. She was strong and soft at the same time, and he relished the way her curves yielded where his own body was hard.
Troy Lee was right about performance and comfort, but damned if he was going to be stupid enough to say it aloud. A laugh worked its way up from his chest.
