She didn’t know what to do.
Standing on the doorstep, holding a piping hot pizza box, Emma considered her next move.
Should she knock? Ring the bell? Call him from her cell? Just walk in?
After breaking into his home last night, it didn’t seem like a good idea just to walk in.
Never had she been this tied up in knots over a guy. He wasn’t nearby, and she was befuddled, second-guessing her instincts.
She settled on ringing the doorbell.
It didn’t take him long to answer. When he opened the door, she was hit with the fresh scent of soap. He must have come from the shower, but it was hard to know for sure. His closely shaved head gave nothing away, no lingering dampness. She assumed it mustn’t take long to towel dry his hair. For her, long hair was the one feminine thing she was willing to linger on. Not that she spent hours at a salon, but she’d rather own a hair dryer than cut the length off.
She posed, hoisting the pizza box in the air with one hand. “Pizza delivery.”
Ed took the box. Earlier in the afternoon, she’d texted him to ask what he preferred on his pizza. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he liked his pizza covered in meat. Like her, he was a carnivore.
“How much do I owe you?”
“I crashed at your place last night, so you don’t owe me anything. But if you prefer, I’m sure I can think of some way for you to repay me.” She winked at him as she breezed past him into the house.
Scowling, Ed closed the door behind her. “We need to talk about that.”
She followed him through the house and into the kitchen. Liam was right; she needed to be herself. She couldn’t allow herself to crumble in the face of one silly little crush. If Ed didn’t want to sleep with her again, she’d have to convince him otherwise.
He placed the box on the counter above the dishwasher while she pulled down two plates from the cupboard. He frowned at her boldness.
Too bad.
Last night, before he’d arrived, she’d rummaged through his kitchen. She hadn’t imposed enough to search the upper level of his home, but she’d felt his kitchen had been fair game.
He left her to fill the plates while he went to the fridge. “Do you have a preference on what you drink?”
The pizza would be salty, so she asked for water. Just like last night, he filled two glasses with ice and water. He carried them over to the table, and she brought the plates, two slices on each.
Shyness had her biting into her pizza before she could ask something like, Do you think last night was a mistake?
Liam’s words from this morning came back to her. Maybe Ed wasn’t thinking negatively about their encounter. She should see how it played out before making assumptions.
Pushing aside her unease, she asked around a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese, “So what happened with Chantal?”
Ed’s eyes narrowed at her question. Maybe he didn’t like her brashness. Perhaps he didn’t like her at all. “She was pissed.”
Emma watched him take a large bite of the pizza. “Did she want to work past it?”
“How did you…?” Ed dropped the slice back onto the plate. “Never mind. Yes, she did.”
“Are you going to work through it? You know, salvage the relationship?” Dreading the answer, Emma sunk her teeth into her slice and pulled off a chunk.
“I told you last night it wasn’t really a relationship.” He rubbed his temple. “Well, I mean, it was, but not like that. Not a boyfriend-girlfriend sort of thing. It was temporary. To pass the time.”
“So you use women to pass the time?”
He looked directly at her. “That shouldn’t matter to you.”
She perked up. “Why?”
“Because what happened last night was a mistake.”
And there it was. She wanted to throw up but managed to mutter, “Right.”
“Look, Emma, I’m sorry about what happened—”
She cut him off. She didn’t want to hear his lame excuses and his reasons as to why they couldn’t do it again. Instead, she went on the defensive. That was what she was good at. “You didn’t like it?”
“What?”
Her interruption threw him off. Good. “Last night. When I fucked you. You didn’t like it? It wasn’t any good?”
The kindness she’d seen in his eyes while he stuttered out his lame apology was replaced by something else. Panic.
She shrugged. “So you didn’t like it. I get it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Crawling back behind the shield of rebellion, she pushed him further. “You’ve probably fucked more than me.” Temporarily, she looked away as she second-guessed that thought. She glanced back up at him. “Actually, despite the age difference, I’ve probably been fucking almost as long as you have.” She motioned between them. “You can tell me if I didn’t do it right. In fact, I’d rather you tell me what I screwed up so that when I fuck the next guy, I won’t make the same mistakes. You know, since last night was such a mistake.”
Emma picked up her slice again and gobbled up another large bite. She pulled one knee toward her body, placing her foot on the chair. A little anxious, she began bouncing her knee.
She saw the moment he figured out her play. The wide-eyed panic was gone and replaced with a dirty glare.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Last night was a mistake for other reasons.”
“Like?”
“Like the fact I’m friends with your uncle. Like the fact you’re a lot younger than me.” She scoffed at that. “Like the fact you’re going through some difficult things.” She scoffed again. His eyes narrowed even more, his facial features hardening. “Like the fact I don’t do romantic relationships.”
Emma tossed one arm over the back of her chair and swung it to and fro. “Yeah, I don’t really do the whole romance thing either. It’s a waste of time.”
“You don’t really think that.”
His assumption angered her. “Seriously, Ed, if I screwed up last night, you can let me know. I want to make sure that the next time I fuck some random guy, he enjoys it.”
Emma had a bad feeling when Ed smiled. “What does it matter to you whether the guy enjoys it? Shouldn’t how much you like it be what matters?”
Damn, he’d kind of caught her with that one. Suddenly losing her appetite, Emma stood up from the table and carried her glass and plate back to the counter. He wasn’t far behind her. She felt his presence along her back. He placed his dishes next to hers and, a little too close to her ear, asked, “So, Emma, how much did you like it?”
Her body burned at his question, at all the remembered touches and deep strokes.
Shivering, she turned to face him. “What’s it matter to you?” she said, throwing his own words back at him. “It was a one-and-done sort of deal, wasn’t it? You made that clear last night.”
He hovered over her. His breath was heavy, his gaze intent as he stared down at her. “Right. It was a mistake.”
“Right. One that can’t happen again.” She gripped the counter behind her to keep her needy fingers from trying to touch him. He was so close she could smell his deep, rich scent mixed with the refreshing aroma of soap.
“Never again.”
They stared at each other for a beat, the tension so high she felt it consuming her. She hummed with need but locked her jaw and refused to make the first move.
Then he reached for her.
She went willingly, her hands framing his face as he grabbed her hips and pulled her against his body. His lips crashed into hers. She met his tongue with her own. Her body grinding against him.
Their actions were fast and full of greed. He tugged at her shirt and pulled away from her mouth only long enough to say, “Off.”
Her shirt was gone within seconds, ripped from her body. He tossed it away and grabbed for her once more. This time, while they kissed, she reached behind him and dragged his shirt up as far as she could before their tangled limbs stopped her progress.
“Off,” she mimicked.
Bending at the waist, he leaned forward and backed up, allowing her to haul the material off his incredible body easily.
Now, two steps away from her, he paused.
We shouldn’t be doing this. She could hear his thoughts echoing in her head, but she stopped him from saying it aloud. She held up her hand. “No. Don’t you dare say it.”
Like a wild animal, he stared at her, chest heaving. Would he pounce or relent?
“It was a mistake to let you come back in this house.”
Anger boiled in her. “Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Is that the only word you know?”
He didn’t make a move toward her.
Hurt replaced the anger. She hated how her feelings responded to him, to his actions and words. “Fine.” She balled up his shirt and tossed it at him. “I’ll go.”
She started to reach for her shirt, but he stopped her. Grabbing her wrist, he angled her hand over his crotch. “You’re not going anywhere. You did this. And now you have to deal with it.”
She wrapped her fingers around his erection. Not a problem.
His eyelids nearly fluttered shut in pleasure, but he didn’t stop looking at her. She stroked up and down with her palm as his cock became more and more pronounced, straining against the blue denim.
He raised a finger and traced the outline of the Bat Symbol that decorated her bra’s right cup. “These are cute, but superheroes aren’t going to save you tonight. Ditch the bra.”
She reached back and unhooked the bra while Ed made fast work of his fly. As he stripped off his pants, Emma quickly shed her skinny jeans. Standing in nothing more than her Batgirl panties, Emma watched Ed straighten.
He was a tall man. She didn’t doubt he probably topped her by nearly a foot, maybe more. She’d love the opportunity to spar with him sometime. She wondered if he remembered much of his military training. He obviously kept in shape. Emma looked over his body, his sculpted abs and tight belly button, his long arms corded with lean, prominent power.
He was reserved, but Emma was no fool. She knew this man had strength. More than just the strength of will that her uncle admired.
She was small, a fact she’d worked hard to overcome. She knew how to use a man’s strength and power against him. She knew the weak spots on their bodies, the places where they were vulnerable.
Ed was reserved, and people probably underestimated him because of that. But she knew that he had power beneath that calm façade and silent control. He could easily take her to the ground, and it excited her.
In just his boxers, he reached for her again, this time lifting her into his arms. He aligned her back against the cool steel of the refrigerator. Her nipples pebbled hard in protest but were soon enclosed in the warmth of his mouth. He feasted on one, then the other. He seemed to enjoy sucking her nipples, which was fine with her. She never had a lover show such expertise when it came to her breasts. They usually spent just enough time there before moving on to the treasure trove. But Ed seemed to enjoy it.
She’d never particularly cared about her breasts. They were always just there. One of those silly woman things she had to put up with, like a period, but the amazing things that Ed did with his skilled tongue made her realize how vital they were to the sexual experience.
When he was done feasting on her nipples, he licked a hot trail up her neck. He shifted his hold and left the fridge. Stopping near his discarded jeans, he squatted down. Fearing he’d drop her, she clutched him until he instructed her to take the pants. “Wallet. Condom.”
Wiggling the wallet out of the worn indentation in the back pocket demanded the attention of two hands, but she finally got it free. She smiled as she pulled out the condom, amused he’d taken the time to restock his quick-access supply. Despite what he said, part of him must have felt they’d end up sleeping together again.
He laid her down on the kitchen table.
Lifting on her elbows, Emma glanced around at the setting. Briefly, she registered that the blinds on the sliding glass door were up, and luckily, his backyard was fenced, so they had privacy. Still, the idea of a table made her a little nervous. What if it broke?
“Are you sure about this?” The importance of her query died when Ed stripped off his boxers and rolled on the condom. He was naked. Who cared if the table broke?
“About the sex? No. I’m not sure about it.”
His cock, long, thick, and reaching toward her, was a thorough distraction. She shook her head, trying to follow their conversation. “No. The table.”
He grabbed its edges and gave it a shake. “Going upstairs will take too long. This will work.”
Ed’s warm fingers curled around her knees, and gently, he pushed her legs apart. He stared down at her exposed pussy. “Definitely. Not. Waiting.”
His hands slid down her thighs. She spread her arms along the surface and grabbed the table’s edges. Her back arched off the wood when he used his thumbs to pry her lips apart. She gasped as he slipped his fingers over her, rubbing her, heightening her arousal.
“No waiting,” she reminded him gently.
“Just making sure you’re ready.” He slid two thick fingers inside, making her gasp.
“I’m ready,” she urged.
While dragging them slowly from within her, he twisted his fingers clockwise, stroking all sorts of sensitive nerve endings. “Yeah, I’d say you’re ready.”
He lifted his fingers to his lips and sucked off her flavor. It made her even wetter. Even more impatient.
“No waiting,” she half-groaned, half-whined the words.
He laid his hard cock against her swollen vaginal lips and guided it back and forth, the ridges on his dick and the ribs on the condom petting her clitoris again and again.
She squirmed. Eyes closed, she pleaded, “I thought you didn’t want to wait.”
With a hand between their bodies, he leaned over and kissed her. “You’re very impatient.”
He still hovered over her as she started to rant. “You’re the one that didn’t want to go upstairs. You didn’t want to wait. You didn’t want—”
His trade-skilled fingers opened her, and he shoved his cock all the way in. Her head fell back, hitting the table.
“Better?” His lips caressed her cheek.
“God, yes.” Her eyelids fluttered open.
He pulled out and pushed back in again. “You know there’s more to sex than just the fucking part.”
“Mmm,” she purred. Ravenously, her mind filled with possibilities. “Teach me everything.”
“Rascal.”
She’d been serious. Reaching up, she cupped his shoulders, her palms sliding down his chest over his dark skin, over the place where his heart pounded. “You put everyone else to shame. I’m so ready to learn anything you want to teach me.”
Grabbing his plump lower lip between her finger and thumb, she dragged his mouth to hers. The table started rocking with their movements. When the kiss ended, she said, “I can’t move much. I don’t want to get a splinter in my butt.”
He chuckled against her lips. “I’d get it out for you.”
She gave his lips another quick peck. “I’m sure you would, but I still don’t want to get one.”
His big hands covered her hips, anchoring her to the table. “You don’t have to do anything. Just keep laying there all hot and sexy—” she gushed at his compliments “—yes, and wet. So hot and wet.” Trailing off, he shook his head. “You just stay there, and I’ll keep your precious little bum safe.”
About to blast him for his condescending tone, all thought fled as he began pounding into her. Her breath came in gasps. Clutching the edges of the table once more, she turned her head to the side, closed her eyes, and focused on the intense pleasure he was giving her. Each powerful thrust, each swivel of his hips, each coercive stab drove her closer and closer to the edge.
The table shook beneath them.
He lifted her legs over his shoulders. The position elevated her ass off the table, but he cupped her in his hands, using her body however he wished. It pushed him deeper and flung her into the chasm.
She went over the edge, and within a few short pumps, he was joining her, his chest heaving against her calves.
The tension sank out of their bodies.
“That was incredible.” Her back flattened against the wood.
He helped her bring her legs back down, resting her heels on the side of the table. With a final, noisy exhalation, Ed laid his palms against the wood, framing her head.
That’s when they heard the creaking—followed by the groan.
Emma looked up into Ed’s wide eyes.
“Oh, no!” she cried. But it was too late.
The table was already going down. The legs gave out. The entire thing hurtled backward and toward the floor.
Half in shock, half in pain, Emma squeezed her eyes shut when they landed.
Ed immediately lifted his weight off of her. “Are you all right?”
She’d bruise for sure, but nothing that would last. “I’m okay.”
“You sure, babe?”
Nodding, she peeked up at him. “Nothing’s broken. But I can’t say the same for your table. Sorry.”
He waved away her apology. “It was an old table—and totally my fault. I should have taken you upstairs. Or on the counter or the floor.”
“Maybe next time,” Emma said the words before thinking. She glanced at him, praying she hadn’t spooked him.
He offered his hands to help pull her up. Then he surprised her by agreeing, “Maybe next time.”