Before she had time to breathe, he bent over her, staring into her eyes as he released the tie of her wraparound dress. Silver flecks smoldered in the depths of black slate as he eased the dress open, revealing her cleavage, her navel, the lace front of her panties.
His breathing grew ragged. “Just say it, Emma.”
She reached beneath his shirt, running her fingers up his chest, through the sparse hair and over the flat of his nipples, giving back at least some of what she was getting.
He trapped her wrist. “Me wanting you was never the question.”
He slowly released her, sending his own fingertips on a sensual journey between her breasts, over her stomach, dipping ever lower. He touched the detailed top of her panties. Then he traced a line over the translucent fabric, zigzagging across her sensitive flesh, before stopping and cupping her, rubbing the heel of his hand on the center of her passion.
With his free hand, he separated her dress, exposing her naked breasts. His eyes feasted on her pale skin and her pink, tightly contracted nipples as her chest rose and fell with labored breathing.
He kissed one nipple, laving it with his tongue, pulling it into a tighter and tighter bud. Then he blew against the damp spot, and she went hot, then cold, then hot all over again.
“All you have to do is say it,” he repeated.
In answer, she flexed her hips. His hand was doing such delicious things down there that she didn’t think she could speak if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to. She didn’t want him to win, and she sure didn’t want him to stop.
He eased down beside her, burying his face in her neck, planting sharp kisses beside the necklace while he pushed down her panties and sought her warm wet flesh.
She grasped his shoulders, pinching tight as his fingertip found her center. He lingered and circled while her thigh muscles tightened, her toes curled and a small pulse came to life beneath his hand.
“Emma,” he gasped, fixing his mouth on hers, plunging his tongue in deep, dragging the dress from her.
He closed a hand over her breast, held it there, then seemed to hold himself back. His eyes were dark as midnight as he gazed down at her. His mouth glistened with moisture, and the dim light from the living room highlighted the planes and angles of his face.
Emma dragged in a lungful of oxygen.
“Either you tell me you want me,” he growled, “or I stop right now.”
He wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
Her inner muscles convulsed with need.
“I want you,” she said hoarsely.
“Thank you.” His mouth came down on top of hers, and his finger sank inside.
She scrambled with the buttons of his shirt, tearing it apart, holding him tight and pressing her breasts against the roughness of his skin. The heat of his chest seared her even as his mouth found hers, and their tongues began an intimate dance.
Somehow, he kicked off his slacks and located a condom. She raked her fingers through his hair, stroked his stubbled chin, rubbed a finger over his lips and tucked it inside.
He kissed her palm, the inside of her wrist, the crook of her elbow. Then he rose above her and she brought up her knees.
“Emma,” he breathed. Trapping her hands, their fingers entwined, he kissed her hard as he plunged to the hilt.
She moaned his name, rising to meet him. The music, the party, the
She closed her eyes as the fireworks pulsed. Small explosions at first. Then they grew higher and brighter and faster until the entire sky erupted in light and color and sound.
“Alex,” she cried, and his guttural moan told her he’d followed her off the edge of the earth.
The fireworks slowly ebbed to a glow. The music returned, and the sound of laughter filtered up from the party on the lower deck.
She willed the sounds away. Alex’s body was a delicious weight holding her down on the softness of the bed, and she didn’t want to surface just yet.
“You okay?” he asked, easing up.
She nodded. “But don’t move. For now.” She didn’t want to break the spell.
“Okay.” Then he sighed against her hair. “So nice to know I won.”
She tried to work up an appropriate level of indignation, but she was too satiated. “You couldn’t give me five minutes, could you?”
“You’re a hard nut to crack, Emma McKinley.”
“Funny. Here I was thinking I was easy.”
His fingers flexed between hers. “Easy? I’ve never worked so hard for sex in my life.”
Okay. The afterglow was officially ebbing. “You can get off now.”
He rolled his weight to one side, giving a deep sigh of satisfaction. “You want me.”
She bopped him on the shoulder. “Oh, get over yourself.”
He held up his hands in mock defense. “I distinctly heard you say it.”
“Well, you want me, too.”
“Of course I do.”
“So, we’re even.”
He grinned. “Not quite. You don’t want to want me. That’s not the same thing.”
“It was the night,” she waxed sarcastically. “The champagne. The cruise ship.”
“You telling me this was a shipboard romance?”
“Correct.” It had to be. She couldn’t go around wanting Alex for the duration of the marriage. The mere thought was…well…unthinkable.
“And it’s a very short cruise,” she said tartly, sitting up and drawing her dress firmly around her, already regretting having let herself go-with Alex of all people. Talk about taking a complicated situation and blowing it right off the charts.
She glanced around the room. What had she done with her shoes?
Alex sat in silence for a moment, then muttered to himself. “I’ll say it was short. We never even left the dock.”
“We should go back out to the party,” she said.
“Our clothes are covered in Wiki Waki.”
Emma made a face.
“I’ll call the concierge. I’m sure they can bring us up something we can change into.”
And walk back into the party wearing a different dress? “I think I’ll hide out here,” she stated.
Alex picked up the telephone from the table next to the bed. “Are you kidding? This is perfect.”
She turned her head to glare at him. Why were things that were so perfect for him always so embarrassing for her?
Or, maybe:
No, that wasn’t the right way to start a conversation either.
“Emma?”
Startled, Emma glanced at Katie across the office desk. Her sister had wandered in about five minutes ago, wanting to talk about Knaresborough in central England.
“You okay?” asked Katie.
“Fine.” Emma should spit it out, get it over with so she wouldn’t feel as if there was this huge secret between them.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Sure,” Emma replied. “The bed-and-breakfast in Knaresborough.”
