What If (Willowbrook Book 2) (7 page)

She looked up. Bad idea. He wouldn’t disappoint
her
, if given the chance. That was the unspoken message on his face.

“Give me your hands, Em.”

Enthralled by the change in him, she let go of his ass and gave him her hands. He brought her knuckles to his lips and trailed wet kisses along her skin, sending tingles down to her toes.

“I apologize twice over.”

“For what?” she asked, caught off guard by his apology.

“For breaking my promise. I can’t keep my hands off you, babe.”

“And the second apology?” she asked, breathless.

“For misleading you. I can handle myself just fine in the bathroom.” He kicked off his jeans. “Let me show you what I can do with my fingers.” He led her to the bedroom.

A fire burned low in the fireplace. There were no roses strewn across the bed. No boxes of chocolates waiting for her on the nightstand. It was just Drew in his heart-covered boxers. And she realized he didn’t have to have romantic inklings. With his intelligent, intense blue eyes, boyish yet wolfish smile, tender yet passionate words, and smoking hot body, Drew was her romance.

Hand-in-hand, they stopped next to the bed. He sat and pulled her to him, cradling her between his strong thighs.

“I—” Holy cow, having sex with him would change
everything
. She swallowed down her nervousness.

“I want you.” He searched her face with the force of the sun high in the sky. “You want me. Tomorrow, we’ll have a long talk about the past, the present, and our future. How about it?”

Our future
. Drew, her and their baby. She nodded.

With unsteady fingers, he unbuttoned her shirt. As he pushed aside the material, she held her breath. Would he notice her girls were bigger?

Seemingly oblivious to the size of her boobs, he unclasped her bra and threw it onto the chair. She followed the trajectory of her bra. The pink fluff landed smack dab in the middle of the chair. His baby blues gleamed at the spot-on contact before his attention shifted to her breasts.

As he stared at their roundness, their heaviness, the gleam in his eyes faded, replaced with the intensity she remembered well when it came to sex with Drew. He planned on doing her good and hard just to watch her girls bounce.
Wow
. Her legs trembled.

He cupped her breasts then coasted the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. They tightened into little balls, waiting to be tugged and pinched. She shivered in anticipation.

With his thumb, he pulled down her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, and he eased in his index finger. She wrapped her lips around his finger and sucked—in and out with the slightest suction and a tad of friction with her teeth. A feral growl burst from him. He tangled his fingers into her hair and tugged back her head, forcing her to release his finger.

“You were gonna make me come,” he said, breathing hard.

Good
. Her panties were soaked. The room spun. She stripped off her jeans and her panties and literally jumped him. As she balanced on his strong thighs, she fumbled for his erection through the opening in his boxers.

Encircling the throbbing, thick head with her fingers, she glided her hand up and down the length of him. Slow. Slower. Faster. Harder. He threw back his head. Lifting her hips, she guided him inside her. His thick length stretched her insides, and Emma couldn’t breathe.

She was wet. He was hard. She wanted him to do her against the wall. Or the door. Whatever. Wherever. She just needed to feel alive and reckless with him. Only him, her Drew.

Chapter Eleven

God, Emma was like an untamed cat, and Drew fucking loved her wild side. He hooked his arms under her round and perfect ass, stood, and headed for the wall, any wall.

“Hang on tight, baby doll. I’m gonna crash your world.”

Low, throaty laughter slipped past her luscious lips. “Promise?”

“On a pinky swear.”

“Aw, Drew.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “You break my heart.”

Of course he did. Their relationship had started on a pinky swear, on his promise to date just her. The pinky swear had meant the world to her. That was what she’d told him that day. Now he realized he hadn’t given her one since.

If he had put more effort into
them
instead of letting their relationship coast on cruise control, would she have trusted him enough to give him the truth rather than excuses?
Damn right.

As though she understood the realization he’d come to, she squeezed her eyes shut. Tears gathered at their corners, and his chest ached at how much she hurt.

The wild side of her had disappeared and was replaced by the Emma he remembered well. The one who wanted . . . no, needed love with her sex.

How had he been so wrong? One last time with Emma wouldn’t get her out of his system. Sex with Emma would come with strings attached. Yet after being without her, he welcomed the strings that had kept him grounded.

Unlike Emma though, he wouldn’t openly reveal his hurt. If he spoke of how lost he’d felt after she’d ditched his ass, he’d lose the tight reins on his emotions. Sure, he had a healthy ego. But the thought of appearing weak to a woman he wanted to win over didn’t sit well with him.

Her eyes still closed, he licked at the tears dampening her flushed cheeks before he dropped kisses across her eyelids, an apology of sorts.

“Drew—”

“Hush.” His voice shook. “Let me make love to you.”

“Yes.” She whispered next to his ear.

On unsteady legs, he made his way to the bed. The wall would have to wait. He’d do her nice and slow rather than fast and furious—the way she liked her sex. Fast and furious reminded him too much of
that
night. That night had been a desperate mix of tongue, teeth, hands, and a fast come.

Afterward, she had flipped onto her side with her back to him. Her silence had killed him. Normally, she had wanted to “cuddle” after sex.

When he had attempted to get her to look at him by promising her multiple orgasms, she’d blurted out that they were through. The pressure from him to go public with their relationship was too much for her to handle. What pressure? He’d only asked the one time.

Hurt, he had lambasted her with what he’d thought had been the truth. That she didn’t take enough risks in her life, had played it safe for too long. And safe wasn’t exciting enough for him anymore.

Shoving that lousy memory aside, he hoisted them up onto the bed. As he moved them toward the middle, she clung tight to his neck and waist, bringing him deeper inside her. His erection throbbed. She clenched her inner muscles. He groaned. More of her tightness, and he wouldn’t last much longer.

He lowered her onto the covers. “Babe, you’ve got to loosen your hold on me.”

She let go, and he pulled out of her.

“The cast. . . ”

“Is nothing.” He ran the tip of his finger across the dark arch of her brow and cupped the side of her face. Her eyes partially closed, and her lips parted. He clamped his mouth over hers. She tasted of a sweetness he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind.

Their tongues touched, and he sucked on hers. She moaned and shoved her fingers into his hair. The reverberations of her moan inside his mouth and the tug of her fingers had him dribbling from the tip of his erection.

He broke off the kiss. “I’m not going to use my fingers.” He trailed his mouth over her neck and lower until his face was smashed between her breasts. Her tits were much bigger and the areolas darker than the last time they’d had sex.

He sucked on her nipple, and she nearly came off the bed as she arched her back and dug her nails into his shoulders. As he grazed his teeth on the sensitive, tight ball, he pinched and rolled her other nipple between his fingers. Relaxing into the bed, she shook her head from side to side. Her legs gripped his waist, and she ground her hips against him, a sign she was close to coming.

He let go of her nipples, and she loosened her legs from around him. He went low, leaving kisses over her slight bump. When he was near her scent and her wetness, she let her thighs fall to the sides. He tongued then suckled her swollen nub.

She groaned, a quiet sound full of satisfaction, before she came in his mouth followed by a fierce shaking of her body. Inhaling her musky scent, he buried his head in her softness and lapped up her come.

After he got his fill of her flavor, he moved up until their eyes met. Lifting her hips, Drew pushed into her. She drew in a breath. He released his. God, he’d dreamt of this moment, had actually woken up with his hand wrapped around his morning erection.

Her gaze unwavering from his, she raised her legs and set them on his shoulders. Emma wanted him to go deep. He’d willingly oblige her. He leaned into her, and grabbing her hips, he fucked her. One, two, three deep thrusts. The bed moved, and her tits bounced. The pressure built from his toes to his head. Unable to hold back any longer, he roared his climax. He kept coming and coming, his body shaking from the force of being without her for so long.

She lowered her legs, clamped them around his waist, and with her arms tight around his neck, she clung to him. Warmth settled over his chest. Contentment, happiness. In her arms, he found home.

They lay plastered to one another for what seemed like minutes. Afraid he’d slip out of her soon and make a wet mess on the bed, he grabbed the nearest thing he could find—his spare T-shirt.

“Let me do it.” She took the shirt from his hand and cleaned them off.

After she was done, he pulled down the covers and patted the side next to him. She glanced from the bed to the door as though unsure whether to spend the night with him or not.

Faking a nonchalance he didn’t feel after the intimacy of what they’d shared, he ignored the casts and hooked his arms behind his head. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She slipped under the covers. He lowered his arms, turned, and anchored her body to his. Exhausted, he fell asleep with a thought that chapped his hide. If Emma needed love with her sex, why had she given her virginity to a guy she’d claimed not to have loved?

Chapter Twelve

Last night, after Drew had fallen asleep, Emma had snuck out of bed for the cell phone in her jacket pocket. She’d slipped the phone under her pillow, and at six-thirty this morning, the phone’s vibration had woken her.

Careful not to make any sudden moves that could disturb Drew’s sleep, she had snuck out of the bedroom and into the bathroom to clean up before she ate leftovers from last night at the small kitchen table.

Then she’d left Drew’s place for her meeting with Chris. She hurried down the dirt path and avoided looking up at the dented targets. Around a curve, she veered off the path and trekked through the field that would take her to the cemetery. A few minutes later, she arrived at the cemetery’s border. She walked through to get to her place. The tulips from her father’s gravesite snagged her attention.
Why’d you leave the chain and key where I’d find it?

When she returned to Drew’s place, she’d ask him. Last night, before they’d made love, she saw understanding clear on his face. He hadn’t invested himself fully into their relationship, and that realization had hurt him. She didn’t like when Drew hurt. But truth had no concept of emotional consequences. And maybe it wasn’t just Drew that hadn’t been completely committed to growing their relationship as they’d changed over the years.

Her mind made up about the morning ride, she hurried to the truck parked next to her place. From here, she had an unobstructed view of Chris in his truck, scarfing down what looked like a muffin stuffed with eggs and sausage. Her stomach grumbled. Seriously, she was hungry again?

He saw her and waved. As she got closer, he wiped his hands and his mouth with a napkin then got out of the truck. “Hey, you.”

“Hey back,” she said.

He stared at her with keen perception. Trying not to squirm, she kicked at the dirt and avoided his eyes, looking at his mouth instead.

Bad idea. A cheesy grin spread across his handsome, angular face. “You got yourself some action, didn’t you?”

The corners of her lips twitched. “I don’t know what you mean.” She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked onto her heels.

He came over and placed his warm hands on her shoulders, halting her movements. His eyes searched her face. They twinkled while her face burned.

“You got laid.”

“Hush.” She stepped out of his hold. “Someone’s gonna hear you.”

He looked around and shrugged. “There’s only the dead.” With the cheesy grin back on his face, he opened his arms wide. “Get over here, love. You deserve a big Chris Andrews hug.”

Unable to resist his charm and his smile, she jumped into his arms. Laughter bubbled out of her, and he clasped her tighter to him as though her happiness could take away
his
pain. Eve wasn’t her BFF. Chris was and had been since college. After a year, he’d dropped out to concentrate on training and racing full time.

Racing. Perfect guy
.

“Set me down. I have something to ask you.”

He gave her another squeeze before doing as she’d asked. “Shoot.”

“I promised Chance a superstar for the gala.
You
are a superstar.”

“I ride freestyle motocross, Em. I’m not the one who just won the Super Bowl.”

She grabbed onto the edges of his jacket. “What you do in those shows is utterly awesome and totally dangerous. There’s fireworks and . . . ” She shook her head in awe at the memory of one of his shows. “And those aerial moves. Chance went to a show last year, remember? I introduced you to him and his parents backstage?”

He grasped her hands and kissed the tops of her knuckles. “I do. I’d love to help but I can’t.” He let go of her hands. “Going on a date with a woman . . . I’d feel like an imposter, Em. Like I had with you after we’d done it, ya know?” His attention swung to the ground before his dark eyes bore into hers. “Does that make sense?”

Proud at how far he’d come since that night, yet saddened by his current dilemma, she encircled her arms around his waist and settled her forehead on his chest. “I completely understand.”