Page 73 of Breaking Emily's Rules
He sat on one of the stools at the counter and accepted his plate when she pushed it in his direction.
She stood on the other side of the counter and they ate in silence for a few minutes, accompanied only by Winston’s somewhat pitiful sighs and begging eyes. Because, even though he’d just eaten a bowl of dry dog food, Winston was no fool. He recognized the good stuff when he smelled it.
Stone jutted his chin toward Winston. “Does your dog do this?”
“No. Pookie has mastered the art of begging. But she’s an old gal. She could teach you a thing or two, Winston.” Emily pointed her fork at him. “Pookie sits next to me when I eat, right at my feet, her back to me.”
“Playing hard to get?”
“Trying to act like she doesn’t care whether or not she gets any scraps.” She lifted a shoulder. “It works.”
“You give in?”
“Of course. Dogs don’t live long, so they might as well enjoy it. Good food is one of life’s great pleasures.” A small amount of barbecue sauce dripped down the side of Emily’s mouth, and her tongue went out to flick it off. “Oops. This is messy.”
That tongue action went straight to his groin, and he was reminded of another one of life’s great pleasures. He didn’t break eye contact with Emily as he slowly lowered his hand to Winston and handed him a rib bone.
Winston reacted as though the rib bone might be his last meal on earth, nearly taking one of Stone’s fingers with him. Stone knew, for a fact, Winston would lumber out of the room, taking that bone with him to enjoy his feast in private.
“You should at least make him work for it. Sit, or shake or lie down.” Emily licked her lips again, like she understood what it did to him. “I taught Pookie how to lie down and play dead.”
“That’s Winston’s only trick. He lies down and plays dead almost twenty-four seven.” He wiped his hands clean, stood and moved toward Emily.
Her eyes on him, she laughed a little louder than normal. “That doesn’t count.”
“Nervous?” He reached her side. “You have something—right here.” One hand holding her chin, he leaned forward and licked her lips. “Mmm.”
His hands pulling her in, her entire body responded to him. She dipped her finger in his mouth.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
He licked it dry then bit it. Yeah, he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. He’d pretty much stopped thinking. Emily and that mouth. Those eyes. Her laugh. She’d robbed him of his last brain cell.
She kissed him then, or he kissed her, he couldn’t be sure who started it. It didn’t matter because things moved quickly then—her grasping at the hem of his T-shirt and tugging it off, him cupping her ass and pulling her against his erection.
She licked and nipped at his collarbone, and he drew in a ragged breath.
He pushed her up against the kitchen wall. “Is this what you want?” he whispered into her hair.
Figured it might be a good time to ask, because soon they’d be past the point of no return. But if the way she moved in response to him was any indication, she was very much on board.
She pressed into his hardness, making his temperature shoot up into jungle fever levels. “I want you. Now.”
He lifted her arms above her head and pinned her against the wall. She made a small sound of pleasure somewhere between a moan and a squeak. That single needy sound pushed him to lick from her neck down her shoulder, moving her shirt and bra strap with his teeth. With one hand he reached under her shirt and bra, feeling breasts more plump and round than he had imagined. Rosy pink, achingly soft.
“Damn.”
He lifted up her shirt and shoved the bra cup to the side, his mouth covering one warm breast, sucking her nipple in hard. Her entire body tensed, and she arched into him, moaning.
He moved back to her mouth and kissed her, lingering there. Her body tensed, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the stupid rule he’d just broken. But when her fingers threaded in his hair, pulling him closer, it became clear the kissing wasn’t a deal breaker. Good.
He had to remind himself this was what she wanted from him. Hard. Rough. Fast. Even if what she inspired in him was something altogether different. An unquantifiable something he couldn’t put his finger on, and might be best left unexamined. For the first time in a long while he wanted to feel something. A feeling that wasn’t pain or regret, even if it was only temporary.
Don’t think. Just feel. She tastes so good. Like home.
He pulled her jeans down. “Kick them off.”
She did, stepped back and stood in front of him in nothing but her thong and bra, fleshy beautiful skin curving in all the right places. In case he had any lingering questions, she removed them with a few words.
