Working Girl (20 page)

His eyes are burning onto mine, trying to gauge my reaction, when the crowd out in the main room start their loud and boisterous countdown.

“10 . . .”

My heart races.

“9 . . .”

The knot in my stomach tightens.

“8 . . .”

He licks his lips.

“7 . . .”

My breath quickens.

“6 . . .”

His eyes dance.

“5 . . .”

I move even closer to him.

“4 . . .”

Wrapping my arms around his neck feels right.

“3 . . .”

His arms around my waist feel even better.

“2 . . .”

My palms sweat.

“1 . . .”

My knees give out, but he catches me just before placing his lips onto mine. It’s tentative at first, starting out slow. Innocent pecks, his lips covering mine in such a tender way that my heart ceases to beat, but I can feel the urge to go further building deep within me. Placing my fingers in his hair, I pull him into me allowing my lips to envelop his and really allow my tongue to explore. He meets me in the middle and our tongues dance for a brief moment, hypnotizing me, before he pulls me even closer. Our bodies melt together, standing alone in the center of the empty room.

Auld Lang Syne is playing faintly in the background. It’s the most beautifully haunting version I’ve ever heard. This moment could not be any more perfect and I know, without a doubt, that what I’m feeling for Emerson is love.

True, unedited, pure love.

Our lips separate for a moment and he gently moves me towards the bed until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. Startled, I sit down, looking up at him through hooded eyes and see his eyes glimmering in the low light and my stomach grows heavy with anticipation. I cross my legs in hopes to alleviate the pressure I feel. Emerson notices, immediately shaking his head and using his hands, he uncrosses them, licking his lips before bending down and parting my lips with his tongue again. His hand rests on the back of my neck just before we fall onto the mattress together.

We lie next to each other, our bodies tangled on top of the blankets, our hands seeking to explore untouched skin while our mouths continue to find familiarity with the other. Emerson gently runs the pads of his fingers over my arms, then my collarbone, and eventually finding their way to the exposed skin on my legs, my insides coming further and further undone with each kiss and touch. Reading about moments like this in books is one thing, but experiencing it first hand is unlike anything I could’ve ever imagined. My heart races and my breathing is out of control; my chest rising and falling at a pace commensurate with running.

Our lips break apart, allowing both of us to come up for air and my chest heaves, keeping pace with my out of control heart. What I feel . . . the ecstasy . . . the intimacy . . . is intoxicating beyond belief. I never want this moment to end.

“Sorry,” he says, starting to sit up.

Desperate to hold onto this moment I grab his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t. Don’t be sorry, because these moments are the most amazing of my life. And please, whatever you do, don’t ever stop.”

He gazes down at me, a slow smile creeping across his face. It’s in that moment that I know he wants this as much as I do. Needs this as much as I do.

Leaning down he kisses me again, slow at first and then increasing in need. Wrapping one arm around his neck, I pull him back down to me before sliding my other hand under his shirt and over the smooth skin of his abdomen. His muscles twitch under my fingers and I feel drunk on the control. Breaking the seal of our mouths again, he looks down at me pensively as he understands the message that I’m sending. “Are you sure?” he asks breathlessly.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He shakes his head in disagreement. “Not here. Not like this.”

I want to argue, to tell him that I can’t wait another second, but if I do I’m not being honest with myself because, truthfully, I haven’t waited all this time for this moment to happen in some random stranger’s bedroom at some college party. He’s right. We can’t do it here.

Even though I know better, I can’t stop myself. “I can’t wait another night,” I plead into the dusky room. I want him so badly that I can’t possibly wait another moment. Because right now, it feels so right and I’m afraid I won’t get the chance again.

I see the shadow of his head nod before he is jumping to his feet and grabbing me by the hand to pull me upright. In a weak attempt at looking less disheveled, I straighten my dress. “Where are we going now?” I ask, nervous laughter dancing in my voice.

“Stop asking so many questions,” he chides, leading me out of the room. We navigate the apartment, hand in hand, and Emerson says goodbye to a few of his friends. High on the excitement of the night, we spill out onto the busy streets of Las Vegas. We begin walking in the direction of his car, and I hang my head. He’s finally caved under the pressure. Being with me is too much pressure and he’s going to drop me off at the bus stop and wash his hands of me.

We barely make it to his car before he’s opening the door, telling me to get in. I stand, frozen with fear and shaking my head in defiance. “I don’t want to go home,” I say quietly.

“Who said anything about going home?”

My face flushes with embarrassment.

“Oh.”

His cheek dimples as he gives me a crooked smile and my stomach tangles up in a knot again, the pressure deep in my core returning, it’s intensity almost more than I can bear. My palms become damp with sweat and I can’t get into his car quick enough. Emerson closes the door behind me and skips to the driver’s side before sliding in and putting the car into gear.

We drive silently, each lost in our own thoughts, and as if things weren’t going to be awkward enough, this time spent waiting is making things a million times worse.

I say a silent Hail Mary as we finally pull into a parking space and the car rolls to a stop. Immediately recognizing where I am, my heart aches because Emerson has managed to make an already awesome moment even more perfect.

“The warehouse . . .”

He grabs my hand and kisses it. “I want tonight to be about you and me. Nobody else. And honestly, what better place for us to be us than here?”

A slow smile spreads across my swollen lips and I stifle a small giggle. Emerson makes me feel things I never thought imaginable and I predict that this is just the beginning.

ONCE WE MAKE OUR WAY
into the warehouse the awkwardness and hesitation somehow manages to grab hold of the moment and toss us both about. It’s chilly and Emerson quickly turns on the space heater next to the door before returning to my side. The lighting makes the room feel clinical and enormous. My eyes fall to the mattress in the corner and suddenly I’m filled with apprehension. Emerson takes me by the hand and leads me toward the bed. He leans down and plugs in a string of Christmas lights that hang on the wall before walking back to the door and switching off the main lights. My breath quickens as I watch his silhouette stalk back across the room, stopping just short of me. We stand stiffly for a moment before Emerson presses himself into me from behind, wrapping his arms around my waist. Brushing my hair away with his left hand, he leans down and presses his lips to the nape of my neck and I close my eyes, reveling in how his mouth feels on my skin.

This moment, with Emerson, is perfect. Everything I’ve ever wanted. I trust him, and know he’ll keep my heart safe and sound, because I know, without a doubt; he carries my heart within his.

I spin around in his arms, wrapping my own tightly around his neck, and he slowly moves toward me again, backing me up as he does so, kissing the nape of my neck again before moving down and spreading his kisses along the length of my collarbone. My eyes press shut as my brain is sent into a frenzied state of arousal. The heels of my feet connect with the mattress and I gently ease myself down, pulling Emerson with me until he’s kneeling in front of me, my back hitting the mattress, my hair fanning out around me.

He smiles, dropping his mouth to cover every inch of my skin with his lips. I slowly start to go insane. My back arches off the bed and a moan escapes my mouth, but I almost don’t realize that I’ve made a sound until Emerson pulls his head up and grins. “You’re easy to please,” he jokes as he pushes himself back to join me on the pillow. He lays his head next to mine, my chest continuing to rise and fall with each deep breath that I take.

We lie in silence, my heart thundering in my chest. The ball is in my court. He’s waiting for me to show him I’m ready. He’s obviously not going to just take my word for it.

Taking one final deep breath, I roll toward him, lifting my legs so that they’re on either side of his body, his torso wedged between my thighs. His hooded eyes never leave mine as I lean down and press my lips to his again, and while we devour each other his hands grip tightly onto my waist before running down to my bare thighs. Each of us intoxicated by the other, Emerson pulls me to him, sitting up and grabbing the hem of my dress and lifting it over my head in one fluid movement. I oblige, lifting my arms up, allowing my dress to leave my body.

He licks his lips while his eyes do a quick sweep of my body and I feel the heat between my legs increase. My belly is heavy and I need him to touch me before I lose my mind. With shaking hands, I reach down and release each button on his shirt, slowly pushing it off his shoulders, allowing it to fall away and reveal his lean frame.

Emerson groans before pushing me back onto my back. “You’re driving me insane,” he growls. Leaning down, he kisses between my breasts while his hand reaches behind me, unfastening the clasp of my bra. It pops free and my arms immediately go to my chest, shielding myself from his heated stare.

And even though I’m ready, and I know I want to be with Emerson, a part of me is still unsure; lacking the confidence that his heart is in the right place. As if he can read my thoughts, he tenderly brushes my face with the back of his hand before taking my wrist and moving my arms away from my body. When he does, he removes my bra with his other hand allowing my breasts to fall free. The chill of the air makes my nipples pinch together, but before I can feel any discomfort Emerson’s mouth is on them, covering them with the warmth of his tongue, flicking and teasing them, making me writhe underneath him.

Unable to wait any longer, I reach down to his pants and undo the button and zipper. He kicks them off, leaving only two thin pieces of fabric separating us. My lips are swollen and tender, but I don’t care. Using my hand, I pull him back to me letting my mouth do the talking for me. Our tongues circle each other and I open my legs, allowing him to place himself between them. He’s still hovering over me, hesitant, so I wrap my leg around his back, pulling him down so that his weight is on top of me. Even though we’re separated by our underwear, feeling the pressure of him between my legs increases my arousal.

I squirm underneath him, moving until I feel pressure against the spot I most need it. His hands caress my breasts and I moan. “God, Presley. You’re so damn beautiful. Are you sure you’re sure, because I can stop now if you want?”

His words only increase my need and I start clawing at the waistband of his boxers. They need to be off. I need him in me. I want to experience everything with him. He stops my hands from removing them and gazes down at me with languid eyes. “Tell me,” he commands.

Knowing that he’s cautious only increases my feelings for him and the heat I’m feeling builds exponentially. For the first time in forever, someone is putting my needs above their own.

And it feels amazing.

“I need you,” I whisper and he doesn’t hesitate. In one fluid movement his boxers are gone and he’s dragging my thong down my legs. I hear the crinkle of a wrapper and even though I’m tempted to, I don’t look down; partly because I’m afraid, but mostly because I could stare into his eyes forever.

We kiss again, but Emerson is using his forearms to support the weight of his body. Breaking the seal of our mouths, I run my hands down his back and nod. He lowers his hips and I can feel him at my entrance. Nervous beyond belief, I hold my breath, trying to focus on the pressure that curls itself tight in my belly, ready to let him in. Not just in the literal sense, but in every other way possible as well.

Gently he eases himself into me a little bit at a time. He’s trying to be gentle, and I don’t have the heart to tell him it hurts just the same. For every small movement he makes, I bite down on my lip to keep myself from crying out. Each movement creates a slight burn and feeling of fullness between my legs. It feels good, but at the same time it hurts. My back arches and I hiss as he slides himself completely in. I feel a gush of wetness and my lip trembles with shame. Pausing for a moment, Emerson looks down at me and places a sweet kiss on my nose. “You okay?” he asks huskily.