Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
ASPEN
“Aspen.”
The way he says my name sends heat pooling low in my stomach. I’m already needy and so completely gone for a man who could wreck me completely.
“Aspen,” he repeats, and I realize I haven’t answered him.
“Yeah,” I pant. Words are hard when he’s sucking and nibbling my neck. I’m an inferno as his lips blaze a path up my neck.
“I asked if I could take you inside.”
I make a sound of agreement and push off the car, but he’s an immovable force.
He brushes hair off my neck, working his way back up to my ear. His stubble tickles, and I giggle. God, I sound like a teen, giddy and airy. But it’s exactly the way I feel when his lips trace the shell of my ear.
“Something funny?” he asks.
Always so serious, this one. Before he leaves, I’m going to get him to loosen up and laugh.
“For starters, you have to stop kissing me if you want to go inside,” I say.
“Sir! You are kissing me. I’m just standing here.”
Warmth from his huffed breath skates over my skin.
“You’ve never just stood anywhere a day in your life. Your mere existence is temptation. You’re a goddamn miracle in human form.”
It’s unfair that he can spout romantic poetry like that while I barely have two functioning brain cells to rub together after that kiss.
He steals my chance at a response, pressing his hips forward as he pins me to the car once more. “Outside is fine too.”
My hands go to his chest. “Inside has a shower and a bed.”
That gets his attention.
Instead of letting me walk inside on my own, he spins us around so fast I squeak in surprise. For a man recovering from broken ribs, he moves entirely too well.
Pointing me toward the house, he glues us together—back to fron—and continues kissing my neck as he guides us. It’s a damn good thing his arms are banded around my waist because my knees threaten to buckle when he sucks on my pulse point. It’s got a direct line to my clit.
“You know I plan to let you kiss me again when we’re inside.”
“Good to know,” I say, but he doesn’t stop.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe. But I don’t care.”
“You planning on letting me go so I can shower?”
“Nope. I need one too.”
“Oh!” I exclaim. “That reminds me, the plumber is coming tomorrow.”
“Cancel it. I don’t need my own shower.”
I snort out a laugh—something I do a lot more than I expected with Emmett. There’s so much more to him than the grumpy hotshot he lets most people see. And it’s not just his dry sense of humor. When he lets someone in, he’s tender and kind—protective.
He thinks his past makes him a liability—unlovable, even. But the truth is his past has made him steady in all the ways he thinks he’s flawed.
More than wanting to make him smile the way he makes me, I want him to see the man I see, the one who makes me laugh and brings me coffee. The one who refuses to stop kissing me for even a moment.
And in the end, even when he leaves and I’m the one left broken, it’ll still be worth it.
With that thought, I do my best to lead us up the stairs without either of us ending up back in the hospital—I’ve seen enough of the inside of it for the week. My hand shakes when his teeth scrape over my thrumming pulse and the sharp sting shoots through me like a runaway train heading south .
“Turn the key, Angel. There’s so many more ways I can make your breath catch like that, but you need to let us inside.”
My grip on the key tightens and I turn it, swinging the door open. A heartbeat later, my back is flat against the wall. Emmett hooks my leg around his hip and groans.
“Careful,” I warn him.
“Fucking rules.” He rolls his hips against me. The friction is everything and my head hits the wall. “We’ll have to get creative until I can fuck you the way I want to.”
“And how’s that?” The anticipation of his answer drives me just as wild as the demanding press of his fingers into my hip. He uses the leverage to drive himself against me. Another rough stroke has my mouth falling open.
He doesn’t answer, instead dragging me from the wall by my hand across the kitchen to the table. He pushes the chair back, making it scrape against the floor and then urges me backwards, hands bracketing my hips until I hit the edge of the table.
His mouth is on mine, and I’m just trying to keep up with the pace he’s setting. It matches the spinning in my head. His thumb lights a path across my stomach, right above the elastic of my scrubs.
“These—can I take them off?”
“If you want.”
Yes, please is more like it, but I manage not to appear too eager.
“If I—” He takes my hand in his, and when he places it over his hard cock, it jumps in my hand. “You make me this fucking hard without even trying. You should never have to question it.”
Heat floods every inch of me. No one’s ever looked at me the way Emmett does, but he makes wanting me look like the easiest thing in the world.
“It’s deeply unfair,” I whisper, “that you say things like that and expect me to function afterwards.”
His mouth curves slowly, eyes fixed on mine like he’s enjoying every second of my unraveling
“I’ve been barely functioning around you for weeks. Feels fair.”
My head buzzes.
His hand falls away, and one swift move has my pants around my knees. “And I want every inch of you under every inch of me. But what I need is to be buried so deep inside you I leave a mark no one else can ever touch.”
“You really have a way with words.” I reach for the hem of my scrub top and pull it over my head.
“Do I?”
I shiver. “Uh-huh. That mouth really does things for me.”
He smirks. Jesus, it’s potent.
“Just wait until you see what else I can do with it.”
Everywhere his gaze touches tingles as he takes me in.
His hands go to my waist, and I help him lift me onto the table.
Then I lean back on my palms, barely breathing, his touch leaving goose bumps behind as they climb my ribs, skirting the swells of my breasts and tracing the lines of my lace bralette until he reaches the straps and pushes them off my shoulder.
“Pretty as fuck,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I arch, reaching behind me.
An appreciative noise rumbles in Emmett’s throat as I flick the clasp open, my chest pushed out.
“Every piece of you is better than the last.”
With the cool air chilling my skin, I realize how clothed he is in comparison.
“I’m feeling very on display.” Nervous laughter bubbles out of me, but the vulnerability of being so mismatched sends a wave of heat through me, and my nipples peak to tender buds.
Emmett smirks and drops to his knees, pressing mine up. “If I take my clothes off, I’ll fuck you before I have the chance to taste you.”
“Promise?”
His chuckle is a warm caress against the inside of my knee as he leans in, kissing the skin there.
“You can bet on it. Which is exactly why . . .” His lips move higher. “I’m staying just like this.” The press of his shoulders urges my knees wider, his grip tightening as he takes me in.
He’s so close to where I need him and it’s a battle between slipping my fingers into the mop of hair that’s a little wild just like him, and staying just like I am, pressed up on my elbows to watch.
As if he can sense my dilemma he grins up at me.
“I like you like this,” I blurt out.
He barks out a laugh. The rich sound falling so freely from him might be the best part of this whole thing. “Between your thighs, hard, and dying to devour you?”
“Now that you mention it . . . yes.” I shift my weight to one elbow, cupping the side of his face with the other. “Playful, relaxed—that’s what I like most. And that’s what I’ll remember.”
“You say that now, but I think you’ll remember the orgasms.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I tease.
“Pretty sure I can make both memorable.” He punctuates the retort with a sharp bite to the inside of my thigh.
“Shit,” I hiss, and my head falls back.
The pad of his thumb brushes over my center. “Soaked through your panties for me every single time.”
I’m at risk of combusting.
He presses the fabric into me. “All for me. Just like everything else you do.” He continues fucking me with his fingers through the fabric so I can feel how wet I am.
And then he’s pulling the lace from my legs, balling them up before stuffing them into his pocket.
My mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”
“I think I’ll keep these.”
Everything is just a little too fuzzy to follow what’s happening. “What?”
A guilty grin flashes across his face. “One more pair and I’ve got myself a collection.”
“A collection?”
He ducks his head, kissing the inside of my thigh. “I’m not proud of it, Angel, but I swiped a pair after the shower.”
My brain short-circuits entirely. “You stole my underwear?”
“You left them on the floor.” His mouth brushes higher, slow enough to make my breath hitch. “I’d just seen you at the hospital. I was jealous, frustrated, halfway out of my mind over you.”
I blink at him in shock.
“So I took something I could keep.”
The sincerity in his gaze almost puts me in the ground.
“You seem pretty proud of yourself now,” I huff out, my composure slipping with each second he draws this out.
His laugh vibrates against my skin. “Hard to look contrite with your perfect cunt this close to my mouth.”
I should probably be concerned. Instead, warmth blooms low in my stomach. How could I be mad when he’s giving me his smiles and honesty. It’s one-hundred percent real, unfiltered Emmett.
“I could probably forgive you,” I murmur.
His eyes darken. “Yeah?”
I open my knees a little wider. “Maybe.”
“Three orgasms seems like a good start to my contrition.”
“Three?” I balk, letting myself fall back against the table.
“Four?” he asks.
“I’ve never had more than one at a time.”
His nose coasts up the inside of my thigh. “We’ll be fixing that, starting now.” When his lips seal over my clit and suck, I gasp.
“You like?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I croak.
He dips a finger inside me, curling it. “Damn, Angel. You feel so good wrapped around my fingers. So ready for me.”
He adds another, pumping so slow I want to cry.
“Tell me what did it for you.”