in tonight and bug the hell out us, thereby making a general nuisance of herself. Not to mention that I'll have to divide my time between playing over protective big brother, pouring beer for a bunch of drunks, and threatening to kill anyone who stares at you too long or asks you to dance."
Emily relaxed. "I could always join Marilyn and Booker for pizza, beer, and a Gerard Butler movie."
"You could, but that's not what I would want." His smile was more devil than angel as he pressed kisses to the pads of her fingers. The gold flecks in his gray eyes glowed with a heat which ignited the lava pit in her stomach.
"What do you want," she asked breathlessly. Her body pulsated with an acute awareness of his masculinity. Emily was amazed at the quickness of her transformation from emotionally frustrated to sexually frustrated. But she shouldn't have been. Jake was offering something Emily had never ached for before.
Physical love.
Marilyn was right when she'd called Jake Mister Right. It felt right when he touched her. It felt right when he kissed her. When Jake was near, Emily didn't feel the cold sting of loneliness as much.
It was as if he understood what she needed and gave it to her. Or let her take it. And Emily wanted to run her fingers through his thick, soft hair and ground her mouth against his in a hard, punishing, sensual kiss. And she needed, very badly, to feel his hands against her skin.
Heck, who was she fooling?
There was nothing philosophical about this relationship. Emily was a mare in season and she ached to mate. The mating wouldn't have to be tender or romantic, but fierce and primal and—she halted her thoughts and suppressed a deep, mewling groan.
Jake released her and planted his hands on either side of her seat. He leaned forward and, holding himself up by his arms, hovered over her. His mouth was centimeters from hers. "What do I want right now? Or for the future?"
"Right now."
His tongue traced her quivering bottom lip. "To kiss you."
"Oh," she gasped, then proceeded to do a little tasting of her own. "Patience is a highly over rated virtue."
"Not to mention a damned nuisance." Jake slipped his hands under her buttocks and hefted her onto his lap. "Straddle me. Ah, sweetheart, what you do to me." His fingers massaged her bottom and moved her against his blatant arousal. "I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you." He didn't give her a chance to respond, but slid a hand up her back, into her hair, and, cupping the back of her head, fused their mouths together.
Instinct made her grip his shoulders and rock against him. Liquid desire poured through her veins and into the fire pit in her loins. She rubbed herself against him like a cat in heat. This was what she'd wanted last night, but more. She wanted to feel him moving against her, inside her. Emily wanted no barriers between them. Her attention was riveted on the tension building between her legs and the sensations he was provoking. She was on the edge, ready to fall off the precipice and let him catch her. She knew without a doubt that this time would be bigger than all the rest.
No inhibition. No fear. No questions. Her body instinctively trusted this man who could easily snap her in half.
Emily clutched his waist with her thighs and rocked harder. Faster. The white, blinding light of release was within her grasp.
Jake broke the kiss and gasped for air. "Sweetheart," he rasped. "We've got to stop. I want you so bad, I can't—"
His voice was the incentive she needed and Emily dragged his mouth back to hers. She relentlessly drove her tongue into his mouth while her body shimmered and exploded with wave after wave of pure, savage pleasure. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, then, breaking the kiss, she arched her back and spasmed against his hot, hard body. Dazed, she thought to herself, "It can't get much better than this. If it does, then I am a
Emily relaxed. "I could always join Marilyn and Booker for pizza, beer, and a Gerard Butler movie."
"You could, but that's not what I would want." His smile was more devil than angel as he pressed kisses to the pads of her fingers. The gold flecks in his gray eyes glowed with a heat which ignited the lava pit in her stomach.
"What do you want," she asked breathlessly. Her body pulsated with an acute awareness of his masculinity. Emily was amazed at the quickness of her transformation from emotionally frustrated to sexually frustrated. But she shouldn't have been. Jake was offering something Emily had never ached for before.
Physical love.
Marilyn was right when she'd called Jake Mister Right. It felt right when he touched her. It felt right when he kissed her. When Jake was near, Emily didn't feel the cold sting of loneliness as much.
It was as if he understood what she needed and gave it to her. Or let her take it. And Emily wanted to run her fingers through his thick, soft hair and ground her mouth against his in a hard, punishing, sensual kiss. And she needed, very badly, to feel his hands against her skin.
Heck, who was she fooling?
There was nothing philosophical about this relationship. Emily was a mare in season and she ached to mate. The mating wouldn't have to be tender or romantic, but fierce and primal and—she halted her thoughts and suppressed a deep, mewling groan.
Jake released her and planted his hands on either side of her seat. He leaned forward and, holding himself up by his arms, hovered over her. His mouth was centimeters from hers. "What do I want right now? Or for the future?"
"Right now."
His tongue traced her quivering bottom lip. "To kiss you."
"Oh," she gasped, then proceeded to do a little tasting of her own. "Patience is a highly over rated virtue."
"Not to mention a damned nuisance." Jake slipped his hands under her buttocks and hefted her onto his lap. "Straddle me. Ah, sweetheart, what you do to me." His fingers massaged her bottom and moved her against his blatant arousal. "I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you." He didn't give her a chance to respond, but slid a hand up her back, into her hair, and, cupping the back of her head, fused their mouths together.
Instinct made her grip his shoulders and rock against him. Liquid desire poured through her veins and into the fire pit in her loins. She rubbed herself against him like a cat in heat. This was what she'd wanted last night, but more. She wanted to feel him moving against her, inside her. Emily wanted no barriers between them. Her attention was riveted on the tension building between her legs and the sensations he was provoking. She was on the edge, ready to fall off the precipice and let him catch her. She knew without a doubt that this time would be bigger than all the rest.
No inhibition. No fear. No questions. Her body instinctively trusted this man who could easily snap her in half.
Emily clutched his waist with her thighs and rocked harder. Faster. The white, blinding light of release was within her grasp.
Jake broke the kiss and gasped for air. "Sweetheart," he rasped. "We've got to stop. I want you so bad, I can't—"
His voice was the incentive she needed and Emily dragged his mouth back to hers. She relentlessly drove her tongue into his mouth while her body shimmered and exploded with wave after wave of pure, savage pleasure. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, then, breaking the kiss, she arched her back and spasmed against his hot, hard body. Dazed, she thought to herself, "It can't get much better than this. If it does, then I am a
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