Page 51 of The Fake Out

He turned my way.

The car jerked to a stop.

“Is this okay?” the driver asked from the front as he pulled into the circular driveway of Emerson’s building.

“Yeah, thanks.” With a polite nod, he pulled the door open. Out on the sidewalk, he turned and held out a hand to me.

As I straightened my dress, keeping my chin tucked as I worked up the nerve to ask, he stepped closer. “What’s the matter?” he urged, his green eyes astute, like he could see right through me.

Under his scrutiny, I lost my nerve. “Nothing.” Turning on my heel, I headed for the front door.

Emerson followed me to the elevator. We silently rode up to his floor, and when we made it to his apartment, he unlocked the door and held it for me, letting me pass by into the foyer.

“Gi,” he said as we stepped inside and he shut the door. With one hand, he cupped my face and angled in, pressing his hot lips against my forehead.

My pulse stuttered, and a burn started deep in my stomach. An aching throb that silently pounded as I became more and more sure that I needed more than just his hands on my face. More of his mouth.

I wanted the press of his hard body against my own. His bare skin on mine. I wanted his hands running down my body. Slipping low to cup my pussy, to slip inside me. To soothe the need he’d created.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered, his warm breath skating over my skin.

Shuddering at the sensation, I rushed the words out, no longer able to keep them to myself. “I want us to have a fling.”

Her words jerked through my entire body. My gut reaction was to tell myself that she didn’t mean it. But I bit down hard on that. Because who the fuck was I to tell any woman what she meant?

“Gi,” I muttered. My lips hadn’t moved from her forehead, so the single syllable vibrated against us both.

She yanked back, her big brown eyes sparking, and glared at me. “Don’t tell me I don’t know what I want.”

I released her and held both hands up. “I wasn’t going to.”

Putting words to my emotions wasn’t easy. While I collected my thoughts, I ran my hands through my hair.

She must have taken that as a rejection, because she took a step away from me. Dammit. If I didn’t move quick, she would storm out.

Breathing deep as desire coursed through me, I gave her a once-over, taking in the skintight dress that had been a temptation all night. I dragged my focus back up the red material, cataloging her wide hips and soft stomach. Running over the swell of her breasts, past the pounding pulse in her neck. Pausing on her lips for a heartbeat before meeting her brown eyes. Nothing good would come from a fling with her, but I found myself leaning in and snaking my hand behind her neck anyway.

As I pulled her soft body to mine, her eyes snapped wide, and she wet her lips. And I swore that simple swipe of her tongue rocked through my entire body. My dick jumped in my pants, and as if she could feel it, victory flashed across her face. My breathing picked up. Damn, I wanted this so bad.

“Define fling.” My tone was choked, desperate. I needed a clear picture. And not the one in my head, which was her naked below me.

She swallowed. “Just tonight. Em, please just make me feel good for one night.” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip.

There was no way I’d deny those pleading brown eyes. I was so tired of fighting this thing between us.

“Saying no feels impossible, I give up.” I tilted her head back and crushed my mouth to hers.

She moaned in response, and I swallowed the sound. Her lips were full and soft and tasted like the wine we’d shared, and I ran my tongue across the seam. The throaty moan as her lips parted was the only invitation I needed; I surged inside. Like the desperate man I was, I devoured her, demanding more. Because her mouth was not enough.

She ran her hands up along my chest and pushed the jacket off my shoulders. I released her for the millisecond it took to slip it off. Then she lifted her arms, clinging to my shoulders as my hands slipped lower. She was the type of woman who deserved all my attention, so I slowed down, paying attention to every soft curve. Every slope and plane of her body needed to be worshipped. I skimmed over the swell of her tits, then slowly down her rib cage, eliciting a shiver in response. The way her body responded to me was a high I couldn’t get enough of. The tips of my fingers danced past her hips to that ass I craved and pulled her closer, pressing her hard against my dick.

“Emerson,” she whimpered, rocking against me. I wanted to lay her out in front of me. See every inch of skin I’d been craving.

“I need space.” I yanked my mouth away, but I sank my fingers into the flesh of her ass. I loved that it was more than a handful. I wanted to see if it would bounce when I took her from behind. “I need room to strip you down. Touch and taste every inch of you. Smack this ass and then work that hot pussy over with my tongue until you’re begging for my cock.”

In response, her breath caught, and her body clenched tight. I bunched the dress in my fists and tugged it up, desperate to touch the silky skin of her cheeks, but instead of skin, all I found was another layer of fabric covering her ass and thighs.

“What the fuck is this?” I pinched the tight fabric and pulled, but it snapped back.

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