Chapter 7
EMMA STRIPPED DOWN to the skin and stepped into the bathroom, locking both doors before starting the shower.
Adjusting the water temperature to somewhere near “sanitize,” she slipped under the spray and cursed the heat until she acclimated.
Then she grabbed the bar of soap and washrag Reagan had provided.
Scrubbing seemed insufficient. Sandblasting would be so much more appropriate given the travel grime that clung to her.
Not even her current level of grunge could stop her from appreciating the way her muscles had been truly well used. There was only one person, one man, to thank for that.
Cade.
She parked her palms on the front shower wall and let the water pound into her shoulders. What am I going to do about him?
They’d shared something incredible tonight, something the likes of which she’d only read about when she indulged in a hot romance novel. This, though? This had been the real deal.
A shiver that had nothing to do with water temperature and everything to do with sensory memory rolled through her. It started at her head and raced to her feet, curling her toes. The man’s skills should come with a serious warning.
Her hand traced the contour of one breast. Her nipple pearled as she imagined it was Cade’s hand touching her, Cade’s hand caressing her.
What was stopping her from having more than that one incredible encounter?
She could have a short, illicit fling. Women in her office were always engaged in such things.
The few friends she had seemed to have either been with one man forever or were forever changing men.
Why couldn’t she be one of them? Why couldn’t she be the one they envied as they sat around a Sunday morning brunch table relaying the week’s hardships—and exploits?
Her breathing grew heavier. If Cade were willing, she could be that woman.
A harder shiver raced through her at the mental image, followed by a sharp knock on the bathroom door.
Expecting Reagan with the shampoo and conditioner she’d asked to borrow—something she’d forgotten to pack on her hasty exit from New York—Emma stuck her head around the curtain and called out, “Come in.”
Cade stepped through the door. Shirtless. The man was shirtless.
It was the first time she’d had the opportunity to consider him in full light.
If Edison hadn’t been dead, she’d have sent a thank-you card, because damn, the man was a thing of hard lines and rough beauty.
Her fingers curled into her palms with the urge to touch him, to trace the sinewy length of arms, the peaks and valleys of that muscular chest and the ripped abs.
She wanted to taste the salt on his skin with less frenzy, savoring every nip and bite and soothing caress.
“Brought down the sandwich. It’s on the dresser in your room.
Also, Reagan said you need shampoo and conditioner.
There’s a brand-new bottle down here. It’s one of those two-in-one things.
” He dug around under the sink. “Here it is.” He stood and made to offer her the bottle, freezing mid-gesture. “Emma?”
She could only imagine what he saw when he considered her—makeup gone, hair wet, her skin pale.
Shaking her head, she held out the hand not clutching the shower curtain to her chest. “Thanks for the sandwich and shampoo.” Her words were so soft they were nearly lost in the patter of water from the showerhead and the constant hum of the bathroom fan.
Cade didn’t move.
She smiled a little at his fumble.
“Anything else I can get you?”
His words were drenched in sensual promise and she shivered again. What she wanted to do with him in a shower—this shower—would no doubt make him blush to the roots of his hair. “I’m pretty sure what I’d ask for isn’t on the menu, especially with your family sleeping upstairs.”
His blue eyes darkened and his hand went to his belt buckle and paused. “My parents had heavy insulation put between the floors. There’s no threat we’ll be disturbed.”
She nibbled her bottom lip, thrilling when his gaze landed there and his pupils expanded. Well, she’d wanted a fling. “Lose the pants, cowboy.”
He shucked his jeans and slipped into the shower, his hungry stare roaming over her body with unchecked desire. “Turn around, hands flat on the wall.”
She complied, the hot water pounding against her as she planted her hands on the tile.
Cade pressed his hard body against hers.
He molded the line of his chest to her back and settled the thick, hard length of his cock against her, sliding slightly.
Water flowed over their bodies and found its way into the crevices between his ridges of muscle and the column of her spine. Their skin grew slippery.
What was it about this man and water?
In a swift movement, he slipped his hands under hers where they remained on the tile wall. It was the work of a moment to twine their fingers together, curling his hands into fists. Then he stood up, pulling her with him as he crossed his arms over her chest and held her that much closer to him.
Emma spun and dropped to her knees. She stroked his cock, root to tip. Resting a hand on his hip to help keep her balance, she slowly fed the length of him down her throat, as deep she could take him. She risked a glance up.
Eyes wild, he’d pushed his damp hair off his forehead and held it in fistfuls as he watched her with absolute awe.
“I thought... I mean, I didn’t think... I’m pretty sure I don’t...
why are you...best ever...want you so bad...
sweet hell...don’t want to ruin...” His eyes fluttered closed, but the scrambled fragments from his mouth didn’t.
And the harder she worked him, the faster he babbled.
Finally, she pulled back with a single lick to the very tip of his shaft. “I don’t remember you being such a talker, Mustang Sally.”
“Mustang Sally?” he asked, face slack as his gaze went from his cock in her hand to her mouth and back.
“You called me Manhattan. Mustang Sally was the first thing that came to mind at the moment.” She grinned. “We’ll just shorten that to Sally to keep it easy for everyone.”
“You can do—” he flapped a hand, eyes wild—“that and still think?”
“Advantage of being a woman. Giving amazing head doesn’t switch off my common sense or my brain. Also gives me the chance to figure out my next move.”
Cade reached for her, but she moved faster than he did.
Emma closed her lips over the swollen head of his erection and again swallowed down as much of his length as she could, working her way down and then up to the tip.
Cupping and massaging his testicles very gently with one hand, she maintained her balance with the other.
He gripped her head, encouraging her efforts with unabashed enthusiasm. His hips pumped, thrilling her that she could drive him to this level of pleasure so quickly.
Slipping a couple of fingers into her own heat, she began stroking the tight knot of nerves there. She whimpered around his thickness.
Wide eyed, Cade watched her and, realizing what she doing, groaned. He tried to pull away. “I can’t, Emma. I can’t hold on...can’t hold out. You have to stop.”
She shook her head, working him over with her mouth even as she deftly manipulated herself. The crest of orgasm built, driving her toward the pinnacle.
Strong hands gripped her under her arms and pressed her against the wall. “Legs around my waist. Fast.”
She managed to get her legs around him even though his skin was slippery.
“I’m clean. No sex since I was last tested. You still want me to get a condom?” he asked, voice tighter than piano wire. “Because I will.”
“Same. Haven’t had a lover. Three years. Tested twice since. Celibate. On birth control. Can’t wait.” She spoke in broken sentences and didn’t, couldn’t, care. “Now, Cade. Now.” Reaching between them, she guided him to her core.
He slid in with one solid shove.
She bit the soft spot between his shoulder and neck to muffle her shout. He was large, she was sore and the two succeeded in making her positively quake in his arms.
Cade hesitated. “Emma?”
“Move,” she pleaded.
Spreading his feet and bending his knees, he dug his fingers into her skin. He retreated only to pull her down so his shaft scraped her clitoris. Over and over he withdrew only to drive into her with tenuous restraint.
He could have given her no more than half a dozen strokes or as many as a hundred.
Emma had no idea. All she knew was that between heartbeats, her orgasm crashed through her, wave after wave.
Heat poured through her as every muscle she owned seized, tightened and refused to let go.
She threw her head back, banging it against the shower wall, but she didn’t care.
Nothing could override the pleasure washing through every cell in her body.
Nothing could stop the second orgasm that followed fast on the heels of the first.
Never. Never had this happened to her.
Cade stiffened with a groan, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief. The movements of his hips were no longer sure and powerful but instead unpredictable and jerky.
She watched his face as he came. It struck her that she’d never seen anything so raw, so powerful, so uninhibited in another human being as what this man was sharing with her right now.
When his hips finally stilled, he pulled away and settled her under the steaming water. He retrieved her washrag and resumed bathing her.
“You don’t have to do that, Cade.”
“Just one more chance to touch you,” he answered, his breath hotter against the shell of her ear than even the steam. “And I’m not finished touching you.”
“Regrettably, you are for the night.”
His hand stilled over her belly button. “Pardon?”
“I still want to go over our PR plans tonight. Tomorrow’s going to be a hell of a day without us staying up all night shaking the sheets.”
He chuckled. “Heard it called a lot of things, but never that.”