Oh my God.
Her cheeks burning, she shrugged out of his tux jacket as quickly as possible, all but thrusting it at him, with a fake smile pasted on her face. “Here you go! Thanks for that. I wasn’t counting on it being so cold, although I don’t know why, since it’s November….”
Shut it, Emma. You’ve never been a babbler. Don’t start now.
He hesitated only briefly before reaching out a hand and accepting the jacket.
She managed to shut up, but she couldn’t quite wipe the stupid goofy smile off her face without worrying that she would break into tears. Emma fumbled only slightly with her clutch, hoping he would chalk it up to the champagne and not her embarrassment at so terribly misreading the situation.
All he’d wanted was a harmless dance—a peace offering for the sake of old times.
And she’d been ready for…well, a whole different kind of dance entirely.
“Good night,” she said, once her fingers closed on her keys. One step closer to safety.
“Good night,” he said, watching her.
And that was that.
This is what came of three years of dating, an aborted wedding, seven years of cold war, and one very sexy dance.
Two near strangers staring at each other and exchanging good nights in the hallway.
She’d had more animated partings with her pizza guy.
Emma turned, lifting the electronic fob that worked as a key in this fancy building, to unlock her door.
Cassidy’s fingers closed around her wrist, and her eyes flew to his. He searched her face before wordlessly pulling her in the opposite direction toward his apartment.
She followed, watching as he unlocked his door. He let go of her wrist then, even as he stepped inside, and she knew what he was doing.
He was giving her a choice.
But she’d never really had a choice. Not when he’d offered his hand to her on the dance floor. And not now.
She dropped her key back into her clutch, and then she stepped toward his door.
Stepped toward him.
Emma held his eyes and walked into the apartment, not quite touching him. Cassidy slowly closed the door, perhaps to give her time to change her mind, but Emma didn’t.
She set her clutch on the small console table, and took a deep breath. “I need to take off my shoes. My feet can’t take another second—”
Cassidy kissed her.
No preliminaries, no hesitation—he just stepped closer and dipped his head down to hers, stamping her mouth as though it were his to take.
Seven years.
It had been seven years since she’d kissed this man, but her lips hadn’t forgotten him. The moment she responded, he lifted his hands to her hips, tentatively. And when her hands settled against his chest, his grew bolder, sliding around to her back, pulling her closer until they were touching, chest to chest, hip to hip.
His lips nudged hers open, and Emma responded by reaching for his tongue with hers.
Cassidy groaned and deepened the kiss.
It shouldn’t have felt this good. Not after what they’d been through. But somehow it was better than she remembered. They’d never been lacking for passion, but back then there had been sort of a wide-eyed sense of discovery to their sex life.
Back then, it had been a boy kissing a girl.
This was a man who wanted a woman.
The difference was unmistakably erotic.
He lifted his head when they needed to breathe, brushing a soft kiss against her lips as he pulled back.
“Stay.”
She could only nod.
His hands slid more firmly around Emma’s waist. “For a second there I thought you’d walk into your apartment, and me into mine. I didn’t care for the feeling.”
She smiled and toyed with a button on his shirt. “Such enthusiastic words, Cassidy.”
He dipped his head again, snagging her lower lip between his teeth, scraping it lightly before releasing her. “I’ll show you my enthusiasm in other ways.”
Emma all but purred at the implications behind that.