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EMILY
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BETTER THAN SEX CAKE.
Junior year, my friends and I found a recipe of chocolate, caramel, and cream with a promise in its name to beat sex with its rich goodness. It came as close to orgasmic as I’ve ever felt from something other than my own hand.
But the soft kisses Landon’s peppering in a sweet line to my mouth blow the mere mix of flour and cocoa out of the water. At the first touch of his lips to my cheek, my heart melts into a liquid mess of emotions, a transformation of solid guard walls to mushy vulnerability—a state I’ve never allowed myself to reach with a man.
He thinks I’m worthy. He wants to share my burdens.
This is too much, too fast.
Yet, so easy.
All I want to do is stay in Landon’s arms—trust him—even if it’s only for this weekend.
I sigh and lean further into his embrace, enjoying the sensation of being small compared to him, my head barely reaching his shoulders.
“You’re gonna give me what I want, aren’t you?” Landon whispers, finally arriving at his destination, his mouth hovering over mine, waiting for... consent? Affirmation? Whatever he’s searching for is his, because I’m not in the mood to deny him or myself.
“Yes.” An intimate flutter springs from the shared breath between us and swoops lower to settle between my thighs, an insistent pulse to match the rhythm beating in my chest.
“Always a good girl...” There’s an arrogance in his tone, a smirk hiding behind the swift press of his lips, but instead of annoying me, his confidence heightens my arousal—assures me he knows what he’s doing. Since I definitely can’t say the same.
Landon’s my first kiss.
At thirty-two years old.
But it’s worth the wait.
Teasing licks. Coaxing nibbles of his teeth. They invite me to let him in and experience a world of sensuality I’ve never known. The buzz of volunteers fades into a hazy consciousness, a sliver of awareness hanging onto the edges, but my mind and body are preoccupied by Landon.
His strong body holding mine.
The intoxicating smell of his cologne.
He’s the best distraction I’ve ever had.
Until the shattering of glass scares the heck out of me, and I jump out of his arms like a rabbit on the run.
“Whoa, easy. Someone must’ve dropped one of the dishes, but we’re okay. You’re okay.” Landon rubs soothing paths over my arms and shoulders, continuing his massage from earlier to calm my nerves.
Squeezing the handful of his shirt in my hands, a tremulous chuckle breaks the tension. “I know. It just surprised me, but that’s probably our cue to keep working on the silverware. We’re lucky no one’s ready for it yet.”
“I’d say we’re lucky for more than that.” He snares my hand and leads me back to our table, pulling my chair out like a true gentleman and waiting for me to sit before settling in his own seat. “After all, I got to kiss the girl I’ve been crushing on since senior year, and I should warn you that once isn’t going to be enough. Pretty sure I’m gonna need a daily dose. Multiple doses.”
Blushing, I scoff at his ridiculousness. “It sounds like you have some horrible disease.”
“Notify the CDC.” Landon glances around the room as if searching for aid before grinning with mischief. “A love bug’s roaming around campus, and I’m hoping it’s contagious.”
Who’d have thought this former playboy basketball player would possess such a cheesy yet dark sense of humor?
Not me.
But it’s nice to see a different side to him—a personality that doesn’t rely on his looks or athletic ability... or sexual prowess. Just a man flirting with a woman.
And hope emerges beneath the stony rubble of my protective guards, taking root in the softened landscape of my heart. A feeling that grows deeper as Landon and I spend the rest of the afternoon together until he has practice for the alumni basketball game tomorrow. A game he asks me to attend before dropping a kiss on my forehead and heading for the gym.
What am I getting myself into?
***
THE SQUEAK OF SNEAKERS echoes in the lobby as I enter the athletic building the next day. Landon’s basketball game is already well underway, based on the cheering and whistles coming from the gymnasium, and I blame Melanie for my tardiness. She wouldn’t let me leave until I told her about everything that happened yesterday again, as if we hadn’t spent the night theorizing and dissecting each word, look, and kiss I’d received from Landon.
Edging through the open set of double doors, I linger on the outskirts of the gym, unsure of myself. I don’t recognize anyone in the bleachers whenever I steal a quick peek around, and while I’m not opposed to sitting alone, chatting with a friend would be nice—help ease some of the awkwardness stiffening my muscles.
Too bad Melanie had plans with her old study group or else it wouldn’t be an issue.
“Hey, you’re Emily, right?” A cheerful woman with a toddler in tow stops beside me.
“Um, yes... But I’m not sure you’ve got the right person—”
“Landon’s Emily?” She asks, a friendly twinkle in her blue eyes. The sense of belonging to someone is new, but not unwelcome. I’ve only ever relied on myself, an independent woman responsible for others—not the other way around.
“Is that how I’m known now?”
“Among the team? Yes, but it’s not a negative thing. We’re glad he’s finally doing something about this crush of his. He’s ready for something more stable than his previous relationships. I’m Maggie, by the way, Josh Parker’s wife, and this is Alexis.” The little girl hiding behind her leg shyly waves, and I return the greeting with an encouraging smile. “Landon asked me to watch out for you, so now we can join the rest of the team WAGS.”
A waft of heat sweeps across my cheeks in pleasure, Landon’s thoughtful gesture making me feel wanted—like I belong in his world. Following her lead, we hurry across the basketball court sideline to the players’ side of the gym, which remains empty except for a small section of people. “I feel really dumb asking because I should know this, but WAGS?”
Maggie laughs. “Wives and girlfriends of sports athletes. Although, there’s a couple of husbands and boyfriends, too, but I don’t know how that fits into the acronym.”
Climbing the bleacher steps, we sit next to a trio splitting their attention between the game and a passel of kids playing beside the bleachers, fielding stray basketballs. It’s strange being on this side of things. Though I didn’t attend many basketball games during college, when I did, I always sat on the other side of the gym with the general public—the opposite end of the court reserved for people associated with the team and those covering the game for the news.
“Tristan, Lydia, Amber. This is Emily.” Everyone welcomes me with knowing smiles, and it amazes me that so many people know about Landon’s crush. I wouldn’t have pegged him as the type of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve, sharing his emotions freely with others. Granted, this comes from a woman who rarely shares her intimate emotions, even with close friends.
Another item to add to Landon’s list of things for us to work on.
Seems like there’s a lot I can learn from him.
Easy conversation flows between the four of us as they regale me with tales of Landon and his friends, and the plethora of insight serves as a glimpse into the life he’s led for the past decade while giving me a peek at what our future could be together.
I’d have an extended group of friends who clearly love their people, and I’d be one of them if Landon and I enter a serious relationship.
Another benefit for you, but what about Landon?
He’d receive the short end of the stick between us since my family’s nothing like this.
The final buzzer blares in the gym, signaling the end of the game. Eighty-one to seventy-seven—an alumni victory over the current student-led team. Maggie and I exchange numbers to keep in touch after I decline her invitation to a late lunch celebration hosted by Coach K, unsure about Landon’s plans.
After saying goodbye, I move down to the gym floor and lean against the wall. Painted concrete steadies my back, a refreshing coolness seeping through the cotton tee as my gaze snags on Landon shaking hands with the opposite team, slapping players on the shoulder in a show of good sportsmanship. But his courtesy is the last thing on my mind when his eyes meet mine—a flash of joy lighting up the dark green—and he walks towards me, politely brushing off attempts to stop him.
“Good game,” I say absentmindedly, too focused on the gleam of sweat shining on his skin to utter much else. I'm not sure if it’s period hormones announcing their coming arrival or the fact that I've been single my entire life, but everything about Landon makes me want to lick him. From the cord of muscles in his neck to the flexing forearms at his sides, it all tempts me to taste and learn what I’ve been missing. Even his scent—a combination of soap and sweat—doesn’t deter me. Shouldn’t he smell like dirty old gym socks or something?
Is this like those pheromone tests? Proving we’re compatible?
“Thanks, I'm glad you made it. I don't remember seeing you at games during school.” He copies my position, turning his back to the wall and standing beside me as we watch family and friends of the teams file out of the gym while players head to the locker room to clean up. Within minutes, it's just us and a janitor running a long broom across the scuffed floorboards.
“Basketball wasn't really my thing.”
“Oh?” Landon’s brow raises in question and a devilish part of me wants to tease him.
“Yeah, I prefer baseball, honestly. Something about those tight pants..."
There’s a beat of silence.
Anticipation.
Then, with a quick snap of his head towards the janitor, whose back is to us, Landon wraps a hand around my wrist and drags me underneath the bleachers a few feet away. The shift from bright fluorescents to dim shadows is disorienting, but I don’t have time to adjust before I’m pressed against the wall—the rough texture prickling my cheek—as a wicked whisper tickles my ear.
“Baseball, hmm? Do you need convincing about the superiority of basketball, sweetheart?” One of his hands braces on the wall beside my head while the other drags a curtain of hair away to bare my neck, placing a gentle kiss on the delicate curve. His entire body cages me in, blocking out the slivers of light that reach us, and I shiver at the sensation of being completely surrounded—a tantalizing blur of protection and domination.
“Maybe I could be persuaded...”
Landon grazes his teeth over my skin. A muttered epithet follows. “I want to corrupt you. Dirty you. You've always fascinated me because you're so fucking good. Professors adored you. Other students recognized your light and knew not to mess with you. It’s why those baseball pricks could never deserve you. Why do you think none of my friends ever teased you like the other girls?”
“Because they weren't interested.” Then a new reason occurs to me. “Or because they knew you liked me?”
A chuff of amusement vibrates from his chest. “Trust me, there was interest. You were a challenge—a girl whose vibe said hands off—a lure to some assholes. I made it clear not to bother you or else.”
I’m not sure how I should feel about this revelation. Discovering I had a secret protector but also learning I wasn’t entirely to blame for the lack of male interest in school. “You warned guys away from me?”
“Think of it as protection. They weren't good enough for you, and I wanted you for myself.” A slow hand lightly circles my neck, urging my head back to meet Landon’s glittering gaze in the shadows. “Still want you as mine alone.”
Later I’m sure a stern lecture will come to mind, a list of reasons why it’s not his job to keep men from me, but at the moment, it’s difficult to think clearly. And there’s really only one coherent thought I need to voice now. “Except you never made a move, and I spent a lot of nights crying over why nobody wanted me. Why no one ever asked me out. And it's because of you, for my senior year, at least.”
He sighs, resting his bristly cheek against mine. “I'm sorry, but I did try once. It was that lunch where you didn't seem interested, then your friends showed up.”
“I thought that was a joke. An entire team of boys were laughing behind my back because you were talking to me. What was I supposed to think?”
It’s surreal having this conversation trapped against a gym wall, our breaths mingling in the tight space as Landon lowers his head enough so our lips graze with every word spoken. “Fair point. I didn’t think it through, and I let my failure stop me from trying again. For ten fucking years. Don’t hold it against me now. Please.”
The fleeting crack in his composure softens my frustration. We were both young and insecure when it came to each other back then. Just because gossip described a playboy skilled with women didn’t mean he never struck out or suffered from doubts.
Reaching a hand back to cup his shadowed jaw, I draw him closer as I rise onto my tiptoes, giving me enough momentum to land a determined kiss. “We’ll probably discuss this again, but it’s not an unforgivable offense. Perhaps the fact that you’re holding me by the throat isn’t clear enough.”
“I was hoping that was a good sign.” He chuckles. “And a perfect way for us to get back on track. As long as you’re up for a little mischief?” His embrace tightens at my slight nod, the gentle squeeze at my neck electrifying every nerve ending with lust. “Unbutton your jeans. Roll them and your panties down over this lush ass. I want to see what’s been taunting me since following you around campus yesterday.”
“You want me to...” I stammer to a halt, a faint alarm threatening to sound in my head. “But anyone can find us.”
In our secluded position, I expected to mess around—maybe make out or touch over the clothes. Revealing more skin wasn’t exactly in the plan.
Naïve Emily.
“I'm blocking any view of you, don't worry. Obey, and I promise I'll make it worth your while. Remind you how well good girls are rewarded.”
Oh my...
Like a fantasy pulled from the depths of my subconscious, Landon’s words unlock the praise kink I always figured I had, but never let someone close enough to experience.
Time to let him in.
Be his good girl.
I drown out the fear of getting caught with desire long held at bay, and my hand lowers to heed his command.