She Drives Me Crazy (17 page)

That had to explain why she was feeling this way. Hot and uncomfortable.

"And wicked?" she mused aloud.

Maybe. Just a little.

Before she could prevent it, an image of Johnny's face flashed through her mind. She sipped from her glass again, remembering that moment right here in her living room the other day, when he'd driven her home. She knew what he'd been thinking…because she was thinking the same thing.

About their kiss. The insane way they'd lost themselves in each other on her kitchen table. At the gazebo. In the square Wednesday when she'd threatened to bite him.

Anywhere. Everywhere.

"Stop thinking about him," she muttered, knowing it was simply heat and frustration and, yes, loneliness making her so jumpy and restless. What a pathetic picture she made. All alone, devouring pseudo-chocolate and sugar, and sidling up to an air conditioner to give herself some satisfaction on a lonely Friday evening.

She stepped closer to the vent, turning the unit up to full-blast and letting cold air stream onto her neck. If she was going to get some relief, she might as well go all out to enjoy it. Reaching up, she unfastened the top few buttons of her scoop-neck dress. It fell open and the frigid air touched the curves of her breasts.

"Mmm." She sighed as she brought her glass to her lips and sipped again.

But she still wasn't cool enough. She wanted to strip off her clothes, to dive into a pool of icy water. Or to go out to the lake at a nearby state park and swim naked, like she and Claire had done once or twice in high school.

She wanted raw physical pleasure.

Joyful, however, had seen enough of her naked for one lifetime. Her skinny-dipping days were over. She had no pool, and the sprinkler was a poor substitute. So the A.C. and the icy glass would have to do.

Reaching down, she pulled the bottom of her short dress higher, until, her legs were bared all the way up to her tiny pink panties. Grandma Emmajean had probably never envisioned her A.C. being used like this when she'd had it installed at hip-level in her front window. But to Emma, it was pure heaven.

Her thighs were damp with sweat, and her skin instantly loosened in relief. Lifting one foot, she placed it on the closest chair, and dropped her head back, letting all that coldness touch her where she was so very hot.

Her face. Her chest. Her throat. Her thighs. Between them.

That brought
his
image back to her mind and she grew even hotter. Moister.

It was Johnny's fault she was in this state. Because thinking of him moments ago had flooded her with the kind of want no air conditioner was going to relieve. Even when he was nowhere around he left her hungry and needing.

She lifted her glass again, touching it to her cheek and her throat, letting one drop of condensation fall to her chest, where it trailed away between her breasts. And she finally began to cool off, to relax, to loosen up and enjoy the sensation.

God, it was glorious. Decadent, almost. So delightful she simply had to close her eyes and revel in it, focused purely on the pleasure of the coldness on her skin, the whoosh of the air and the hum of the A.C. unit drowning out every other sound.

Which was why she didn't hear anything other than the pounding of her own pulse surging through her veins.

Not until she opened her eyes and saw Johnny Walker standing inside her house.

It kinda depended on what happened in the next ninety seconds.

He couldn't tear his hungry gaze off Emma, hot and glistening and almost purring in satisfaction as she cooled herself in front of the air conditioner. She was toying with the moisture on her glass, rubbing it between her fingertips, then touching her pulse points—her throat, her wrists, behind her ears—as if applying a heady perfume.

Not that she needed it. Emma'd always smelled sweet. He knew if he stepped closer and inhaled, his head would fill with all that sweetness. Not to mention the intoxicating, musky scent of aroused woman.

Because she
was
aroused. From the way she rubbed the wetness against her skin, to those sultry lips parted to allow a moan of pleasure, she was the very picture of a woman in heat.

The moment was intensely personal. Sexual, though she was alone. He had the feeling if he stood here long enough, she was soon going to touch herself the way he'd been wanting to touch her since she'd walked back into his life a week ago.

Intimately. Erotically. Thoroughly.

He should have walked away a few minutes ago. Should have turned around and stepped off the porch when she didn't answer the bell or his knock. But he'd caught a glimpse of her through the small window in the door, and had grown worried when she didn't answer.

So he'd had to play her frigging hero once more.

He'd opened the door, just to check on her. And had stumbled onto one of the most erotic moments he'd ever witnessed. Lord have mercy he had never seen a more sensual sight.

Remaining frozen in place, he watched her, knowing she was unaware of his presence. Emma's hair was wildly tangled around her face, the short curls dancing at her temples and blowing across her pinkened cheeks. Her head was thrown back, a look of pure satisfaction on her face. Her parted lips glistened as she moistened them with her little pink tongue.

Another iron band of his control snapped.

Emma's eyes remained closed. Looking at the tempting sheen of sweat on her throat, his mouth went dry. He wanted to taste that spot, to indulge in the salty flavor of her body.

There. And everywhere else.

When he finally managed to tear his eyes off her lips, her throat and her neck, his whole body grew taut with anticipation.

He looked lower.

Torture
. God, this was torture.

She was clothed, but only barely. Her dress was unbuttoned. Given how much it revealed, she might as well not have been wearing it at all. One side of the flowered fabric fell away low enough to reveal the lacy edge of a pink bra which barely covered the curve of her breast.

The other side had fallen even lower, into downright sinful territory. His hands clenched at his sides with the need to cup her, touch her, hold her. One dark, puckered nipple pressed against the pink lace in sweet invitation and his lips parted as he imagined encircling it. Tasting it. Sucking her until she wrapped her fingers in his hair and begged him never to stop. Like she had that night.

When she lifted a hand, he knew what she was going to do. Silently, he watched her trail her hand over her body, from hip to neck, grazing her breast with the tips of her fingers. A light touch. A brief caress. But so utterly, heart-stoppingly seductive he nearly echoed her deep, throaty moan of pleasure.

Johnny's mouth, which had gone dry, suddenly grew wet with hunger. Ravenous, insatiable hunger. But it was when he finally dropped his gaze to
really
look at the rest of her that he truly lost his mind.

Even from a few feet away, he could see every bit of her legs, from the tips of her pink-tinted toenails, all the way up the endless length of her thighs. He groaned softly when he saw how the pale skin there had risen into goose bumps under the chilled flow from the vent.

Then he looked higher. God almighty, higher. To the pale pink panties which did absolutely nothing to shield her soft curls from his stare. To that place where he'd found heaven on earth for a few hours ten years ago.

One leg was bent, raised, exposing her secrets. She looked pagan. Open. Willing. Damp. Taking pleasure any way she could get it, from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. And every luscious inch in between.

Right now, he wanted her more than he wanted to live to see another day.

"Johnny?"

He didn't realize she'd opened her eyes until she spoke. Pulling his attention back up to her face, he let his expression speak for him.

She understood. She didn't say another word, she merely stared at him. Not moving. Not smiling. Just watching with a heavy-lidded intensity that told him she was every bit as aware of what could happen here in the next few seconds.

Her lips remained parted as she sucked in deeper breaths, her chest heaving. But she made no effort whatsoever to cover herself.

She was wanton. Open eyes. Open dress. Open legs.

And issuing one hell of a silent invitation.

"Do I go or do I stay?" he asked, his voice nearly a growl. If she told him to go, he would, but not without one taste, one hot, sweet taste of her.

If she told him to stay, he'd be tasting her all weekend. "Stay."

Emma knew what she was really saying with that one little word, knew full well what kind of bridge she was crossing here, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She wasn't asking him to merely remain in her house. She was ordering him to satisfy her craving. Give her what she needed. To take her. Hot and hard and fast and now.

Right now.

Johnny dropped the papers he'd been holding. The pages rode the current of air to the floor, landing beneath the coffee table. He ate up the distance between them in two large steps, and had her in his arms in the time it took her to take one deep breath. His hungry mouth devoured hers, his ravenous kiss telling her just how thin the last thread of his restraint had been.

Hers had snapped completely when she'd opened her eyes to see him watching her with pure, undiluted want. She'd never seen such a look on a man's face. A look that said he'd rather lose an arm than wait one more second to touch her. A frenzied expression saying his mind had completely given over control of his actions to his body.

That body. Lord have mercy…

That it was
this
man—the one she wanted beyond all reason and against her own better judgment—made it even more potent.

She wanted so much. Everything. As much as he could give her as many times as she could get it.

One of his hands was twined in her hair and he cupped her head while ravaging her mouth with his own. Their tongues met and danced and gave and took as their bodies melded together to form one fluid shape.

Here,
here
was what she'd been hungry for, what her body had been crying out for when she'd foolishly tried to sate her appetite with chocolate, sugar and cold air. She didn't want sweet, she wanted dangerously spicy. Didn't want cold. She wanted sizzling hot. Frenzied. God help her, if he was the least bit kind or tender, she might have to bite him as she'd threatened to the other day.

He seemed to know, because he wasn't gentle and careful as he'd been so many years ago. His groans were guttural, his mouth, his lips, oh, lord, his
tongue
, were unrelenting, demanding, holding nothing back. His kisses were strong and wet and deep as if he wanted to eat her up. Gobble her down. Take her inside him.

But that was her prerogative.

'Touch me," she ordered, against his open mouth, almost whimpering with her need for more.

His free hand moved instantly to the sleeve of her dress. She heard it tear as he pushed it away but didn't care.

'Tell me what you were thinking before you saw me standing there," he muttered as he moved lower to press kisses against her jaw, her throat, her neck.

She could barely think to answer. "I was hot…"

"Steaming," he hissed, his breath tickling her ear as he nibbled around her small gold earring.

"Uncomfortable."

"Aching."

"I was aching for
this
," she managed to whisper when he nipped at her neck.

"I know."

Then he shut up and focused on ripping her dress the rest of the way off her body, until it fell apart and landed on the floor at their feet. She'd barely kicked it away when he ran one strong hand down her side, lingering along the curve of her backside, but not removing her panties. He stroked her thigh, then lower, until he could grab her leg at the knee. Lifting it, he hooked it over one of his lean hips, until her lower body arched into him.

"Oh, yes," she groaned as that hot, hungry, empty part of her met the thick erection his zipper could barely contain.

With his arm supporting her around the waist, she leaned back, grinding into him, torturing them both. He responded with a groan before bending low over her, covering the tip of her breast with his mouth. The wet warmth of his tongue against the lace of her bra did crazy things to her nipple and sent sparks shooting down her body. Lower. Until she had to jerk against him to try to gain some relief from the ache between her legs.

"You gonna come against me or with me?" he muttered before nudging her bra away from her breast with his mouth.

"Both?" she asked.

He chuckled, deep and evil-like, then sucked the sensitive tip of her breast, hard, flicking his tongue over her and drawing deep.

Oh, mercy…she was being completely devoured. The pressure began to build to a fever pitch. Just his touch, his hands, his lips, and the feel of all that male heat hidden behind his clothes made Emma start to shake and quiver.

Her response to his sexy question hadn't been off the mark.

Johnny let go of her leg long enough to unzip his pants and free himself from them. He tore her panties to the side, and when wet, moist flesh slid against hot, hard skin, Emma's entire body shuddered with rolls and waves of pleasure. Endless, moan-inducing pleasure.

"Do it," he ordered.

And she did.

Returning his lips to hers, he took her orgasmic cries into his mouth as if tasting them, consuming them.

Emma's legs were rapidly turning to jelly, and he seemed to know it, because he pushed her back, until her calves met the sofa. Then farther, until she fell down upon it. She lay there, still gasping for breath as she recovered from her orgasm, and watched him strip off his shirt.

Though it had just been sated, the intense need began to rebuild as more of his incredible body was revealed. The hard chest. Those arms. Strong, roped with muscle, like the rest of him. Her fingers tingled with the need to touch him, and her mouth grew dry wanting to sample the way his skin tasted.

She lowered her gaze, her mouth falling open on a hitchy little cry as she saw him—
that
part of him—for the first time in the light of day. She'd lost her virginity to this man. But she'd never seen all he had to offer. "Oh, my God."

He was utterly delicious, hard and thick, protruding from his unzipped trousers, all that throbbing male heat within her grasp.

So she grasped. Ignoring his groan, she cupped him, stroked him, squeezing his shaft until his groan turned into crazy, frenzied mutterings. He dropped his head back, his entire body growing tense, cords of muscle throbbing in his neck, his fists clenching at his sides. "Enough, Emma. Stop."

She knew what he was doing. Knew how close she was bringing him. That knowledge drove her nearly out of her mind. "Now, Johnny. I want it now."

He looked down, watching her through half-lowered lashes as he drew in several ragged breaths. Giving another of those wicked laughs, he reached for his belt. "You want
it
?"

"Yeah. It. You. Everything. Right now."

"You've gotten mighty bossy, Emma Jean."

"And I'm about to get violent," she said with an impatient growl as she reached for him again, helping him shove his pants and briefs down to his knees, not wanting to waste the few precious seconds it would take for him to get them all the way off.

She began to shake in anticipation. Trying to pull him down, she reached for his hips and curled her legs open in invitation.

"Wait, I don't have…"

"I'm on the pill," she snapped.

"Thank heaven," he murmured.

Then, instead of falling onto her, as she silently demanded, he knelt on the floor in front of the sofa. He pulled her up so she was sitting, facing him, then tugged her mouth toward his again. They exchanged another frantic kiss as he hooked his hands below her knees and pulled her closer, inch by inch, to the edge of the couch. Until finally she was within reach, not sitting on the seat, merely perched on the edge with her feet on the floor. Her thighs were wide, her sex open and wet and waiting.

When he finally plunged into her, filling her to her very core, she let out a tiny wail. She closed her eyes, holding her breath, focused on the incredible sensations racking her body.

He held her around the hips, supporting her above him, then began to move them both—pulling her down and pushing up to meet her until she caught his rhythm and began to meet him thrust for thrust. "Johnny, yes," she said, dropping her head back and arching harder against him.

"Satisfied? Now that you got
it
?"

"It's a start," she mumbled, then moaned when he jerked into her again. Hard. Touching her so deep she didn't know if he'd ever be able to find his way back out again.

It continued like that. Fast, hard, intense, with her arms around his neck, his hands on her hips and thighs. The cold air coming from the window unit did nothing to cool them off as their bodies strained together, but Emma suddenly found she didn't mind the heat now. Tasting the salty sheen of sweat on his skin, feeling the slickness growing between them, she decided she liked it. Liked it very much.

"Is this what you were thinking when you were standing there touching yourself?" he asked, his voice thick and hoarse.

She nodded, unable to lie. "I wanted you to fill me up completely."

"What would you have done if I hadn't shown up?"

She gave him a catlike grin and squeezed him, deep inside her body, wringing a groan from his lips. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Nodding, he slid a hand into her hair, cupping her head and drawing her mouth to his for a wet kiss. He slowed the pace, kissing her languorously, matching the slow, deep thrusts of his tongue with slow deep thrusts of his body. Then, when they drew apart, he whispered, "Yeah, I would like to know. You'll have to show me sometime."

Oh, lordy, yes, she'd show him anything he wanted if only he didn't stop, didn't let this wonderful pleasure end.

She mumbled something incoherent, then wrapped her legs tighter around his lean hips, rubbing her calf against that hard backside to tug him deep again. Oh,
so
deep.

Emma began to shake, to moan and to quiver as another orgasm washed over her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and he held onto her while she shuddered through another intense climax.

Then Johnny seemed to let go of his last bit of control because he thrust up into her, hard and insatiable. Capturing her mouth in another wet kiss, he stroked her inside out, finally groaning his own completion against her lips.