“Trevor,” she said, her voice catching along with her breath. “We’re—”
“I know,” he said. “You’re not a one-night-stand kind of woman. Which is good. I don’t believe in them either.”
“I’m glad to hear it, but any future night potential isn’t great. You’re from North Carolina, I live here.”
“That’s just geography,” he said, kissing the corners of her mouth, and along her jaw. Like a man starved, he suddenly couldn’t get enough of her.
“Says the rich boy,” she said, but she was tilting her head back, giving him access to that tender spot on her neck, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging in, like a woman drowning.
He understood the feeling. It all felt so overwhelming, and yet remarkably simple. He didn’t have a moment’s hesitation in going after what felt incredibly right, even though, having just met her, it made no rational sense. And he was nothing if not a rational man.
Just not around Emma. And damn but it felt good.
Wildly, insanely, ridiculously good. Maybe because he felt…safe with her. Which was kind of crazy, but as soon as the notion came to him, he realized it was exactly right. And true.
Because she would be true. Good, bad, one night or a hundred nights, she’d be true. And honest. With herself. And with him. Whatever happened, she’d be the kind of woman who would never duck, never hide, and never lie. How he knew this with such clarity, and such faith, he had no idea.
But he did. And, for now, it was enough to go on. Enough to not stop at the edge, but jump off. If he crash-landed…well, he’d deal with that, then. But, oh, how he wanted to fly.
“Not rich, remember,” he clarified, working his way along the underline of her jaw.
“Not yet,” she managed, nails still digging, breath still catching. It was damn sexy, hearing those little gasps, knowing he was the cause. “Not that it matters. I don’t want your money, but you might have to come to terms with having some, at some point.”
“Wouldn’t matter, either way,” he said. “About the distance, I mean. It’s still just geography.” At the moment, he was pretty sure he’d crawl through hell if that was what it took to get to her.
“Dreamer,” she breathed, gasping as he nipped at the lobe of her ear.
“Realist,” he countered. “Stubbornly so.”
“How do you explain this then?” She moaned a little as he nibbled on her ear. “It sure as hell feels like a fantasy to me.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, grinning against the side of her neck. “Pretty fucking fantastic, isn’t it?”
She laughed. “I should be offended, except that’s exactly what I was thinking.”
He lifted his head. “See? Fated.”
“We’re either both going to be really sorry in the morning, or—”
“Let’s go with ‘or’…okay?” He kissed her again, but this time it was slow, and there was nothing behind it other than the need—the absolute need—to know her. And this seemed like a perfect place to start. “I never leap first,” he said, against her mouth. “Not ever.”
“Neither do I,” she murmured back. “Crash landings suck.”
He grinned at their parallel thinking, again.
“But life offers no guarantees, either,” she said, taking his face in her hands and taking an active role in this fantasy they were sharing. She tilted his mouth to fit hers. “And I’m having a hard time staying safely on the ledge.”
He groaned as she kissed him—really kissed him—for the first time. Damn, this was something. Really something. Everything else ceased to matter in that moment. All the other moments would come along anyway. Right now he could think of nothing more important, perhaps ever in his life, than making damn sure this particular moment, and the ones that immediately followed, were as perfect as he could make them. Because there was this feeling, this instinct, this…whatever the hell it was in his gut, that was telling him that they had to be perfect…because he was going to be remembering this exact moment for the rest of his life.
“Jump with me, Emma,” he whispered against her lips. “Just…jump.”
So she did.
She was flying. She felt weightless, her pulse soaring as she coasted along on the currents that were sweeping through her and around her, pushing her along almost effortlessly toward some great and glorious destination. Which was such a ridiculously over-the-top thing to even think, silently in her head, that she should either be laughing hysterically at herself or running, screaming, from the room, and maybe even the house.
Trevor Hamilton had cast a spell over her. And there was no way that it should be working. She was in for the mother of all crash landings. Any idiot could see that. All rational logic dictated that he had to be using her.
But then there was the fact that he had told her why he was there, giving her leverage. One call to Lionel, or Lionel’s people anyway, could certainly make his life difficult. If he was telling the truth about the whole trust fund, family tree thing, that is. But…why make something like that up? If he was going to lie, he could have made up any one of a number of more plausible reasons for snooping about. And it hadn’t sounded like a lie. He didn’t look like a liar when he’d said it.
And, fool or no, this kiss sure as hell didn’t seem like a lie.
So, she kissed him back.
And that made it even better.
Yeah…there might be a crash landing in her immediate future, but this one just might be worth the ride down.