What The Heart Knows (7 page)

The
scream rose up, hysterical and uncontrollable. Arms grabbed her
shoulders as she struggled away.

“Hey,”
a voice said, calm, reassuring. “if you wanted an excuse to
scream, I can think of a much more pleasurable way to go about it.”

James.
It was just a cocky enough comment that she knew she needed to put
him in his place or she would never get the upper hand. And that is
totally what she was planning on doing. That was until an entire
zombie family appeared to their side, including two freaky zombie
kids.

She
screeched and flung herself against James, burying her face in the
crook of his neck. There was a suspended nothing for a long moment,
James standing there a bit off guard. Was that really pain in the
ass, confident Emily clinging to him like her life depended on it?

James
scrunched his forehead up and shrugged at the zombies around them,
who smiled and moved back to their positions. He slid an arm across
her hips and one up her back to rest at the base of her neck. Sure,
he could tell her that they were gone. But it was nice to have her
with her defenses down for a few seconds. Her heartbeat was hammering
in her chest, her arms around his waist, her fingers digging in
through his shirt. He turned his face slightly, resting his cheek
against her soft hair.

Emily
closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. The only thing worse than
zombies was zombie kids.

God,
she probably wasn't even a fifth of the way through and she was
losing her cool. The further you went, the worse it got. She needed
to get a grip.

Oh,
no. Speaking of gripping... that was exactly what she was doing to
Mr. Fancypants.

“Well
this is cozy,” a voice said behind her, amused. Maude.

Emily
yanked herself out of James' arms, feeling flustered. Almost guilty.
Like a couple of teenagers getting caught necking by adults. She
pulled her shoulders back, straightening the front of her sweatshirt.
“Zombie kids,” she murmured.

“Mmhmm,”
Maude murmured, her eyes twinkling. “Sure,” she said,
walking past, looking into the wall of cornstalks and saying,
“Billy... you tell your mama I hope she gets better,”
then walked slowly, casually, away.

“I
guess it's kind of hard to scare the town psychic, huh?” James
asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,
well, where's the fun in that?” Emily asked, shouldering past
him and taking the next turn.

James
stayed silent several feet behind her as she walked herself into two
dead ends. She yelped at a lunging spider controlled by a pad on the
ground, discreetly covered in hay. “You know if you put your
right hand out when you enter a maze...”

“It
will lead you to the exit,” Emily finished. “I know. But
it's more fun to run around lost,” she smiled over her shoulder
at him.

They
walked in silence for a few minutes, the path narrow enough to brush
their shoulders, narrowing more as they kept going. Emily felt her
stomach clench at the idea of not being able to turn around and run
away. And then she felt a hand on her arm and she struggled against
it.

But
then it was James, turning her slightly and pushing her back against
the haystack supported cornstalks. The sticks nipped at her through
her sweatshirt but she only had a second to register that before his
body pressed into hers, his hands at the sides of her face, holding
her still as his lips crushed into hers.

She
felt the contact in her belly first, exploding outward, sparking,
making her skin feel electric, wired. This was what she wanted in the
orchard. This raw, uninhibited, animalistic devouring. His teeth sank
into her lower lip, hard, painful, but sending a jolt of desire
straight into her core. His hands stayed at her jaw, holding her
there, tilting her face when he wanted her to. His tongue pushed into
her mouth, sliding over hers. Emily groaned, her hands going up to
grab his shoulders, pulling him toward her body tighter.

James'
knee pushed up between her thighs, pressing into the wall behind her.
His pelvis rocked against hers, drawing a whimper out of her throat.
One of her thighs slid upward, moving to wrap around his hip.

She
needed him closer. She could feel his hardness pressing into her
lower stomach. If he would just dip his pelvis down slightly, she
could press forward and find some relief. Not what she really wanted,
but something to ease the pulsating need between her thighs.

One
of his hands slipped down, grabbing the neck of her sweatshirt and
pulling it to the side, giving him access to the skin below. His lips
landed there a second later, a quick kiss before his teeth dug into
her skin. Her head fell backward, looking up toward the sky. Who
would have thought pretty city boy would be so take charge and sexy?
Her hands moved to the back of his neck, holding him against her as
his teeth retreated and his lips replaced them.

She
dropped her hips, thrusting forward, feeling his cock press against
her clit. She groaned loudly, her hands slipping down to grab the
bare skin of his bicep.

Above
her, Charlie's arm shot out, pointing somewhere near them. Then the
whooshing in her ears disappeared and she heard it. The sound of
people approaching. James must have heard it too because he sprang
away from her, turning with a charming, unaffected smile just as
people walked into view.

“Dead
end guys,” he said, his tone even, cheerful.

The
teens groaned, taking turns turning and starting back the way they
came.

Emily
straightened, taking a deep, shaky breath. Damn him for seeming so
collected. Every nerve ending on her body felt overworked and the
unsatisfied sexual tension left her frustrated, almost to the point
of emotional. She blinked her eyes rapidly as he turned back to her,
the edge of his lips turned up in a smirk. Like he was about to say
something smart-ass-y.

Emily
squared her shoulders. “Well,” she said, noting her tone
sounded a little breathy but detached and cool. “of all of the
mediocre performances in this maze today, that takes the first place
prize,” she said, slamming into his shoulder as she passed,
taking on a long-legged but unhurried pace.

Jesus
Christ. How had she let that happen again? What was wrong with her?
Granted, what woman did want someone to take them in a powerful,
manly way? But that was no excuse. She needed to get some control
over herself. Her hormones.

Behind
her, James' arm snagged an arm around her belly, holding her still
and she felt herself lean back against him. He stood there not moving
for a moment and then his other hand was sliding up her inner thigh,
squeezing it slightly before pressing against her heat.

Emily
moaned, her head falling back onto his shoulder. His breath was warm
on her ear and she felt herself shiver. “I think the only poor
performance here,” he said, his finger pressing once against
her clit. “is you trying to pretend you don't want me.”

Emily
lurched forward, almost stumbling over his feet on the sides of her
shoes. That bastard.

“Can
you repeat that for me?” she said, sounding surly and not
caring. “I want to get it right for the sexual harassment
claim.”

James
laughed, a short humorless sound. He pushed past her, slapping her
ass hard as he went around her. “Before I am done in this town,
I'll have you,” he said and walked away.

She
stood there silent, watching his back until he disappeared. What the
actual fuck? She waited a long time, hearing a few groups move past
her, chatting, screaming, before she finally fell back into step.
Emily walked the rest of the way in a sort of numb haze, barely even
registering the scary things around her.

She
hated him all the more for that. He ruined something she waited all
year for.

Emily
made her way back to town, taking a small amount of pleasure in
slamming the kitchen door as hard as she could, no matter how
childish it was. She grabbed a leftover salad out of the refrigerator
and made her way to her room. Part of her wanted to storm upstairs
and give him a piece of her mind. But a bigger, smarter part realized
going to his room would be a bad idea. His room. With the king sized
bed. Yeah... no.

She
needed distance. She needed some time to get out of her sour mood and
get herself in a better mental and emotional state before the dance
later. It would be packed there. She wouldn't have to face him if she
didn't want to. And she definitely did not want to.

Even
if that kiss made her see through space and time for a moment.

Even
if her body was just begging for him to touch it.

She
showered an hour before the event started, taking a long time to get
her hair straight and sleek. It would be down for a change. She
painstakingly applied a light purple eyeshadow and perfect red
lipstick. Then she pulled the dress out. Red. Sequined. Strapless.
Floor-length. With a slit from the bottom all the way up to her hip.
It fit like a second skin and she had a moment to wish she had a
slightly more voluptuous frame for it to hang on as she pulled purple
bicep-high gloves up her arms.

Jessica
Rabbit.

She
had made it a point over the years to seek out costumes meant for
redheads. But she also always wanted the excuse to be sexy. So she
had gone with Ariel one year with her exposed belly and shell bra.
She had spent hours sewing greenery onto a leotard then slipped into
bright green tights and said leotard. Poison Ivy. Then there had been
a sequined corset, striped silk shorts, fishnets, a hat, and bright
pink rouge. Magenta from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

But
this was the year. The year she finally decided to say screw it and
dress as sexy Jessica Rabbit... despite her straight up-and-down
thinness.

And
she was so excited about it.

Until
James Michaels stormed into her life.

Emily
sighed, shaking her head. She was going to have a good time no matter
what. She stepped into her heels and moved toward the mirror to touch
up her lipstick. And that's when she saw them. Right on the spot
where neck met shoulder. Two small red and purple spots that were,
unmistakably, hickeys.

That
asshole.

She
stormed into the kitchen, making Meggie, dressed as a fifties girl
complete with a black and white striped shirt tucked into a pink
poodle skirt with a matching pink ribbon tied to her neck, drop the
corn muffin she was eating. “Wow,” she said, brushing
crumbs off of the counter. “I mean... wow. You look great.”
She watched Emily storm to the refrigerator and dig in the freezer.
“What's the matter?”

“I
need ice,” she said, grabbing a cube and holding it to her
neck.

“Why
what happened?” she asked, raising an eyebrow when Emily
refused to answer, just stared awkwardly at the mary janes on
Meggie's feet. Meggie moved closer, reaching for Emily's neck. “What
are you hidin... oh,” Meggie said, the sound coming out airy.
And then a giggle, light and girlish, escaped Meggie's lips and
before they knew it, they were both laughing hysterically, Emily
still holding the ice to her neck. “So you got lucky with Mr.
Boss Man, huh?”

“More
like he accosted me in the maze of death.”

“Oh
you loved it, admit it. That man is yummy.”

“He's
an arrogant, egomaniac...”

“Someone
must be talking about me,” James' voice came from behind them,
sounding a little different than usual.

Meggie
laughed, shaking her head at the two of them. “Alright, well, I
don't want to be... ah... late...” she said, picking up on the
tension between them. “So... yeah, I am going.”

Emily
refused to turn around, standing facing the sink, ignoring that he
even existed. The fucker had branded her and he thought he was going
to get some kind of light, playful conversation in the kitchen? Yeah,
no. That wasn't happening.

There
was an awkward silence for a moment before James chuckled and she
heard his feet moving toward the exit. “Spoons work on love
bites you know,” he said and then there was the swinging sound
of the door.

Emily
narrowed her eyes, grabbing a spoon and working it in firm circles
over the marks. Knowing it was hopeless. All the more angry with him
for pissing her off again just minutes before the dance. She was
going to need ten of Maude's Widow Makers to get through the night.

Seven