It might be crazy, and it was all kinds of wrong, but right now? There was something oh-so right going on as Dean’s kiss triggered a body-pulsing fever.
His teeth dug into her lower lip briefly, the smack of pain eased by the sheer pleasure she was experiencing. She wanted to roll under him. Have him settle between her hips and start all sorts of other mischief. This wasn’t going to be enough.
Even as the thought registered, it was with a kind of relief. She was a grown woman. He was a grown man.
This didn’t have to be enough.
She planted both hands on his chest and pushed, and he reluctantly let her go, just far enough she could look into his eyes. She found no amusement there, nothing that would say he had been driving her crazy simply because it was a fun way to pass the time. What she saw was as much desire as she felt. Longing and control swirled together as he held her in position over him.
Maybe she was making a big mistake, but to hell with it—she’d made enough of them in her life, so what was one more? This one would only last one night. Maybe it would be enough to help her forget some of her troubles.
“Am I ready?” She repeated his earlier question, only this time she smiled encouragingly. “Why don’t you come by my place later and find out? Around nine?”
Dean’s slate gray eyes widened for a split second before shock dissolved back into sexual arousal. “Should I knock or come in by the balcony?”
Emma laughed as she stood, offering him a hand even though it was clear he didn’t need it. “Surprise me.”
He trailed his fingers slowly over her wrist before guiding her back to the center of the mat, where he faced her.
“Thank you for the lesson, Master Dean,” she said softly, bowing in respect. Even with a new kind of unanswered tension racing through her veins, she had to admit he had done a great job tonight. Well, two great jobs, if she included driving her wild as one of his accomplishments.
He bowed in return, but his gaze never left her face. What was on his mind as clear as if he’d said the words.
They weren’t finished for the night. Another shot of desire rippled through her. They were headed toward contact of a far more intimate nature, and if the rapid pulse in her chest and between her legs meant anything?
There were no doubts whatsoever—she was ready.
Colby
Colby had just contacted Dean after tracking Emma Lee to her downtown dojo when the call came in. He abandoned his post and headed to Suz’s apartment near the bay like a bat out of hell, because when a woman texted you SOS followed by fourteen—yes, he’d counted—exclamation points, you didn’t stop to question it. You went to rescue her ass.
Except when the door swung open and Suz appeared in the threshold, he quickly realized that he’d broken every traffic law imaginable for no good reason.
After conducting a rapid assessment with his gaze to make sure she wasn’t bleeding, drunk, or replaced by a pod person, he met her big green eyes and said, “What the hell is wrong with you? I almost killed five pedestrians racing over here!”
“I hope you didn’t shoot any of them.” Lips twitching, she gestured to his hand.
It took a second to realize that he’d drawn his weapon and was pointing it directly at her very delectable chest. The white tank she wore was so thin he could make out the outlines of her nipples, and those booty shorts? Jesus. Kill him now.
Breathing through his nose, Colby holstered the Beretta and bulldozed his way into the apartment. “I thought you were in trouble,” he grumbled. “Because that’s what S-O-fucking-S means, Susanna!”
“Oooh, you just full-named me. You must be pissed.”
She brushed past him and headed for the living room, and he cursed his traitorous eyes for following the seductive swing of her sexy ass. The woman had a body made for sin. She wasn’t rail-thin like so many of the girls he saw around town. No, she had more curves than a Formula One Grand Prix racetrack. Her wavy golden hair and gorgeous face only rounded out the fine-ass package that was Susanna Jones.
“I am pissed,” he said bluntly, and although he didn’t continue, they both knew he was talking about a lot more than her bogus distress call. But he was too wound up to get into everything now, so he stuck to the topic at hand. “You can’t just fake an emergency to get me over here.”
“I didn’t fake it,” she protested. “I am most definitely in the midst of an emergency. A catastrophe, actually.”
She heaved out a dramatic sigh he’d come to expect from her. Suz could be a total drama queen at times. Though, he had to admit, he loved that about her. That? and her unabashed open-minded attitude toward sex.
Sex. He could barely remember what that even was. Ever since Suz had snaked her way into his blood, the idea of getting naked with anyone else had become unappealing.
But celibacy? Also unappealing.