Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena) (21 page)

Silky, soft, and totally bare.

A situation that required a flat surface.

Mouths fused together, cupcakes front and center, he turned the chair toward the counter and went to lift her when she shook her head.

“No.”

Dax paused. “Was that a no to sex on the table? Or more of a no, sex is off the table and that was just a bold thanks for being my friend? Because if it was the former I’d like to point out that this is a different counter, so we’re good. But if it was the latter, more of a caught up in the moment and already feeling regret, then I get it. Second thoughts happen.”

He might cry later, but he’d understand.

She didn’t answer right away and he couldn’t tell what that meant. Then her cool fingers touched his cheek and slid up to remove the blindfold. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did he found himself staring into the deepest green pools, which were filled with hunger and need, and so much raw compassion his lungs stopped working. “No second thoughts. In fact, everything just got a whole lot clearer.”

She held up a condom and he nearly wept. This wasn’t some spontaneous, caught-up-in-the-moment, cupcake-inspired sex. This was premeditated. She’d thought about this, knowing Emerson, long and hard, sure to weigh the risk with reward, and she’d still decided she wanted to be with him.

Without a word, Emerson slipped off his lap and took his hand. She also took charge. Leading him through the house. No questions asked, he just watched the sway of her hips and let her tug him farther and farther down that hallway, making him guess where she wanted tonight to take place. At first he thought the garage, pull Lola inside and go for a different kind of ride. Or maybe the hot tub on the back porch—there were a few of those water noodles they could get creative with. But when she reached his bedroom, the same bedroom he couldn’t seem to get comfortable in, he stopped.

She offered up a sweet smile and squeezed his hand. It was small and dainty as squeezes went, but there was a gentle understanding behind it that had his insides stilling. She met his gaze. “I could never regret you, Dax.”

And wasn’t that the most incredible and terrifying thing she could say. Even worse, she meant it. The truth was right there, staring back at him. She was feeling the same crazy pull he was. It should have made him want to pack his ruck and pop smoke. In theory this had just become one of those math equations where two steam engines were speeding down the same track toward each other, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that they were a train wreck waiting to happen.

She looked at his bed, seemingly untouched since he hadn’t slept in there in weeks, then back to him. “Trust me?”

At her words, calm stillness took over, radiating from her fingertips on his jawline and moving out until everything inside him downshifted and all he felt was peace. Nightmares, emotional strings, regrets, disappointing Jonah, her—himself—it all disappeared as he became hyperaware of the woman in front of him. Her scent, her confidence, the way her fingers gently slid down his jaw. It was all he could focus on.

Not like earlier, not from the trained soldier, but from somewhere deeper. Somewhere that he had no business visiting. But with her he couldn’t help it. Found that he didn’t want to change direction, not yet. The impending collision felt exciting.

He felt alive.

“Absolutely,” he said with a certainty that shook his core, then he took her mouth.

She took his right back, reminding him of exactly why he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The first kiss had them stumbling backward into his room until they crashed up against the nightstand next to his bed. The second kiss had her spinning them backward and him going down on the bed.

“Your knee,” she said, her hair a mess of tangles, her skirt slightly askew. The moonlight came through the window and reflected off her wet lips and bedroom eyes. She looked hot, horny, and incredibly beautiful.

“Can’t even feel it.” In a second he was on her, grabbing her arm and yanking her down—right on top of him. She giggled at first, then he rolled her over and under him, and when they settled he’d managed to rid her of her top and make her laugh. It was so contagious he found himself laughing back, until those talented hands of hers slid down his chest and into his pants.

“I can,” she said and gave an eye-rolling-to-the-back-of-the-head squeeze. “But I want to feel more.”

“I want to finish that tasting,” he said, sliding a hand under her to,
voilà
, free her cupcakes for their tasting. “I’m pretty sure these will be my favorite.”

“They’re not frosted,” she teased but arched so he could look his fill. And he did.

Dax looked and tasted his fill until she was quivering beneath him and he was certain that, one, her cupcakes had the power to end world hunger, global warming, and all future wars, and, two, she might moan like the kind of woman who could rock his carefully crafted world, but she tasted like home.

And he’d never wanted to come home more than right then.

But before he could think too much about what that meant, her hands were on the move, teasing and stroking and distracting, effortlessly so, taking him out of his head and back into his bed—with her. Which was a hell of a lot less scary, so when she nudged him over, bossy as ever, he rolled onto his back to give her all the room she needed to feel.

“Too many clothes,” she said, yanking his shirt up, over, and off. The zipper of her skirt went down and quickly followed. Hooking her fingers in the waist of his sweats, she looked up at him through her lashes. “Your turn.”

Dax wanted to point out he didn’t get to finish giving her
her
turn,
but lifted his hips as told and watched as Emerson freed him and—

“Holy hell” was all he got out before she covered him.

With. Her. Mouth.

That sexy mouth that could be so sharp and oh so sweet. And Dax considered himself one lucky SOB, because his pants were around his knees, his legs hanging off the bed, and Emerson was kneeling in front of him, driving him right out of his head with her gentle licks and not-so-gentle sucks. The perfect mix of give and take that was destined to end the party before it started.

Which would be a shame since she’d brought her cupcakes.

“Emi,” he said, sitting up and tugging her into his lap, facing her so her back was to his front. “I want to do this right.”

More like he needed to get it right. With her. Tonight.

“Those moans told me I was doing it right,” she teased, moving her ass so it was nestled perfectly against him.

“You mean moans like these?” He ran his hand up her stomach to cup her breast, his thumb brushing back and forth across her nipple with featherlight pressure. She bit her lip to hold back the moan. He did it again—she closed her eyes.

But still no moan.

“Stubborn,” he whispered, bringing both hands up to cup her breasts, his thumbs pressing over the puckered surface, then pinching down, ever so gently.

“Oh Dax,” she groaned, her head falling back against his chest, giving him enough primo real estate to nibble along the curve of her neck.

“There’s my girl,” he said, running one hand down her stomach and between her legs. His fingers teased around the edges until he felt her breaths come in short gasps, then up the middle, and finally sank into pure heaven.

First one, quickly adding a second because she was already so wet and ready that a few twists was all it took to feel her tighten—he could also feel her hips pushing against him, straining for control and desperate for more pressure.

He gave it to her, then backed off. Not a lot, but enough so that
when he added the third finger she jerked forward and yelled, “Oh hell.”

Really loud, but he still didn’t let her come.

“I do love it when you swear at me,” he whispered against her ear, giving it a little bite. “But ‘Oh Dax’ would make my day.”

She didn’t laugh or give him the “Oh Dax” that he was looking for. Instead she spun around until she was straddling him, hands on his chest, looking him in the eyes. And man, feisty looked good on her—almost as good as she looked on him, with all that sensual challenge flickering in her eyes.

“How about you stop talking and bring me my O, Dax?”

It was an order he was happy to comply with, one that had him going combat ready.

With a salute, he said, “Yes, ma’am,” and together they had that condom on—no ribbed for her pleasure because she knew better—in no time flat. Then she was lifting up, his hands on her hips, and he was entering her in one thrust.

And together they both sighed a hearty “Oh God.”

Dax might have said it again, because she felt that good. That right. So right he didn’t just want to have her in his bed, he wanted her to stay there. Past breakfast, and maybe through lunch, so that when dinner came she could prance around his kitchen in just her tank top, no panties, cooking him up green stuff that was good for him because she was good for him.

Too damn good.

So good that when she started moving he was pretty sure his heart lodged itself in his chest, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck and he buried his face in her hair, he felt as if he were going to explode out of his body. His skin was tight, his lungs pissed off, and everything that was going on inside was too much for his body to contain. It couldn’t all fit, yet with her he did.

He fit so perfectly.

“Dax,” she said and he realized she was doing all the work because he was doing all the feeling, so he rolled them over, tucking her beneath him so he could look into her eyes as it all happened.

“Right here,” he said, moving inside of her with deep, strong strokes. She was strung tight, so close to the edge that he moved faster, never looking away. She met him with every thrust, her eyes boring into his in a way that he couldn’t hide. Anything.

For once it was all out there in the open, and she wasn’t running, closing her eyes, she was taking him as he was, demanding more. Not someone else, just more.

“Right,” he breathed as he withdrew all the way. “Here.” He slid all the way back in, to the hilt, and she cried out his name. And when he felt her first tremor of release, he gave her everything he had and she took it, giving him even more in return.

“Right here,” he groaned as she shattered around him, squeezing so erotically tight that it was too much and not enough all at the same time. All the exhaustion, the pain, and the past coiled into a tight ball in his chest and then exploded, and he came so hard his arms buckled and he managed to pull them onto their sides right as he collapsed.

Pressing his face into her hair, he pulled her close and breathed her in. All the way in. She didn’t move, just melted into his chest, and Dax knew that right here was exactly where he wanted to be.

Much later, Emerson opened her eyes, surprised to find that the sun was shining—and Dax was still asleep. Well, part of him was awake, but she was pretty sure that was because he’d fallen asleep cupping her backside as if he owned it.

And he did own it. He was wrapped around her like a military-grade bubble of awesome, keeping all of the worries at bay. She was sure that once she left Planet Dax, she would admit that he owned her heart too. That somewhere between no strings and sharing secrets Emerson had fallen.

And she’d fallen hard.

She may have even started down that slope in San Francisco, which would explain a lot of her recent behaviors. Seeing him that first night at the VFW hall, she had felt giddy, reckless, scared. All ginormous signs that she should have run. But she’d also felt a sparkle of hope that maybe she could have something of her own, something that was all hers, and it had made her brave enough to go after her dreams and enter Street Eats.

Not content to settle for crumbs any longer.

Only now that wasn’t all she wanted. Which was a mistake on her part, because he was leaving, and just the thought of starting over again, trying to figure out her life with one more person missing, brought on the flutters.

Not the good kind, but that destined-for-a-meltdown variety she hoped to never feel again. Needing some air to gather herself, she carefully untangled herself from Dax. Only his arms tightened around her and his eyes slid open.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Where are you going?”

To hide. “To make some breakfast.”

“What I want isn’t in the kitchen,” he said, his hands kneading her butt. “It’s right here.”

“But I have to get ready for work.”

He looked over his shoulder at the clock, then plopped his head back down and wrapped his arms around her in a way that was slightly possessive. “Not for another hour.” He gave her a gentle kiss on the lips, then closed his eyes, cuddling into her like she was his lifeline.

And that was when the panic set in. As far as she knew his plans were still the same. But then there were moments like this, confusing, wonderful, magical moments, when he held her as if he was promising to never let go. Which gave her hope.

False hope or real, she wasn’t sure. And she was too scared to ask.