Page 105 of There's No Us Without You
Grunting, I grip her hips and slam my body to hers. Damn, she tastes so good. So warm. So soft. Everything I imagined she would, only better.
A groan leaves my mouth, and she swallows it, her tongue dancing over mine, her hands gripping my hair as she tries to climb inside me. That’s what it feels like—her warmth, her scent invading my senses until I’m delirious.
Holy fuck.
My skin is burning, my brain firing on all cylinders, and I’m struggling to catch my breath as every touch, every nip, every suck of my tongue sends me on a one-way ticket to coming in my pants.
I grind against her centre, making her moan into my mouth. Hands fisting the front of my shirt, Eden pulls me on top of her, her back now pressed flat against the granite.
This is . . . so . . . fucking . . .
My eyes fly open when Eden wraps her legs around my waist, squeezing my sides between her thighs.
Fuck!
This has gone way too far.
I shove back, my eyes squeezed shut as I attempt to calm my breathing. “I can’t,” I say, unable to look at her.
She reaches for me, but I stumble away from her touch and stalk out of the kitchen, dizzy and lightheaded, and so fucking sorry.
I don’t stop.
Not until I’m in the safety of my bedroom.
TWENTY-NINE
Eden
I wasout of bed an hour early this morning, unable to sleep any longer. Not that I did a lot of sleeping, anyway. My night was filled with a mixture of untamed—and unsatisfied—hormones.
And guilt for kissing Emerson, even though I know that’s exactly what needs to happen to take things further between us—I need that money. It’s the fact he couldn’t look at me when he pulled away; it told me everything I needed to know.
I barely had time to catch my breath after our heated five-second lip lock before it dawned on me.
Emerson doesn’t want me.
It stung more than I’d like to admit, his rejection stabbing me right where it hurts the most—my fragile heart.
Today should be full of excitement. It’s my first shift in the kitchen. Instead, I’m struggling to think of anything else but my growing feelings for a man who doesn’t want me.
How the hell I’m going to get Tony his money now is beyond me. If I can’t get Emerson to sleep with me, it’ll all be for nothing.
Maybe if I’m extra nice to Tony, he’ll change his mind and tell the other buyer to get bent. However, knowing him, he just wants to be done with this place as soon as he can.
I get it, I do. The restaurant was my dad’s dream, not Tony’s.
Smith slides over to me, bringing me back into the moment, and hands me a blue-and-white striped apron. “Here gorgeous, put this on. It’s go time, baby.”
I take the apron from him and hook it over my neck before tying it at the back. My stomach is churning, a wave of nervousness suddenly making me want to puke. Although, I’m not sure why. My dad taught me everything I know.
“You’ve got this,” Smith says as he dances around me, nudging me with his hip.
I shake my head, thankful for his belief in me. “Thank god you can cook, because you definitely can’t dance.”
Side-eyeing me, he waves me off. “I don’t need that sort of negativity from you, woman—here.” A knife is shoved in my direction, and a wooden cutting board on the stainless-steel bench is pushed in front of me. “You’ll need these.” Juggling three butter lettuces, five capsicums of mixed colours, and apunnet of cherry tomatoes, he drops them in front of me. “And these. If you can make up a batch of garden salad, I’ll get started on prepping the meat for the pulled pork. There are carrots in the fridge, and some red onion in the bottom shelf of the pantry.”
“Done.”
