All I Need (Hearts of the South) (21 page)

He pulled off his polo, letting his undershirt come with it, and toed out of his shoes. She scooted back on the sleeping bag and held out her arms. He lowered himself into her embrace, and she held him close on a laugh. “This is a little better.”

He nuzzled along her jaw and stroked his palms over the soft skin of her shoulders and arms. The curve of her ear enticed him, and he bracketed her waist with his hands. “I can make it even better.”

“A little cocky, aren’t you there, Emmy?” Her breathless challenge shivered across his own ear.

“One, don’t call me Emmy.” He bit down gently on her neck and relished her little gasp. “Two, I’m a lot cocky, but if I remember correctly, I had you screaming my name night before last with nothing but my hand.”

“So you’re more than musically talented.” Her head fell back, and he licked and nibbled his way down her throat. She laid warm hands at his waist, nails a sweet bite on his skin. “Can I call you Em?”

“Yeah, you can call me Em.” He’d almost agree to Emmy with her, especially when those hands of hers cupped his ass and she ground into him, bringing him to a nearly painful level of hard. Clark was right—they’d been fooling around for days, but that’s all it was, fooling around a little on second and third base, mostly with him making the base hits for her.

He was going to die if he ever made it home.

She fumbled his belt open, popped the button, and slid his zipper down. With a firm hand at his shoulder, she pushed him to his back and leaned over him to whisper against his mouth. “I want to find out just how cocky you are.”

Despite himself, he laughed, the sound more of a strangled groan. She delved her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, fingertips dancing over his obliques and the sensitive area right above his dick. Shit, she was going to make him cry with the anticipation.

“I don’t suppose you have anything on you?”

He shifted a hip up and grabbed his wallet. She shook her head as he passed the condom into her hand. “You’re not supposed to keep these in your wallet.”

“I don’t think twenty-four hours is going to cause it to degrade that much.” He sucked in a couple of breaths, trying to still the eagerness tying his lower gut in pleasurable knots and tingling into his balls. “And you don’t want the ones that are in the dash.”

“Probably not.” She slid slacks and boxers down his legs, and he tried to kick them off without kicking her. Her fingers danced across his inner thighs, and she bit the tender skin there on his injured leg before he felt her tongue trail along the incision scar.

“Holy…” How was that the hottest thing ever? “…fuck.”

“Is that like your favorite word?” Plastic crinkled and she unrolled thin latex on him before tangling her fingers in the hair curling around his base.

“Is teasing like your favorite thing?” He tried not to buck when she ran a tempting fingertip under his balls, nail a delicious scrape on his perineum. He was wrong about making it home—he was going to die, right here, under those light touches and the expectation they aroused.

“You have no idea.” She dragged her tongue across his scrotum, and he didn’t try to muffle a pained groan. “And I aced anatomy too.”

I’d believe it
was his last cognizant thought, and then her mouth was on him, a warm, lush haven even with the latex between them. One hand wrapped around his base, lightly jacking him off, and the other splayed across his abdomen, she built a rhythm with her mouth, pressure and release, a little swirl here and there, that had every muscle in his body tightening further and further, that had pleasure bordering on pain gripping him, until the pressure and tension burst so hard he couldn’t even get a yell from his lungs.

He collapsed, chest heaving and gasps hurting his throat. Her low laughter tickled his ears, and she removed the condom before she draped herself across him, head pillowed on his shoulder. Hell, he couldn’t see the actual stars, with light patterns continuing to dance before his eyes.

Still gasping, he chuckled and lifted a finger. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll return the favor.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sounding supremely pleased with herself, she kissed the side of his throat. “You’re a couple up on me, remember?”

“We’re not keeping score. We don’t have that kind of relationship.” Shit, he was sweating, breathing hard like he’d been running with Troy Lee and his insane pace. His heart wanted to pound out of his chest, and he couldn’t get enough oxygen. Could a guy have a sex-induced heart attack at twenty-six? He heaved in a couple of breaths. “Fuck, did I just say relationship?”

“Yes.” She gave a lazy stretch against him. “You did.”

“You’re not going to leave me because of that, right?”

“No.” She wrapped an arm across his waist, lips resting against his pectoral. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“Good.” He folded both his arms about her and hugged her to him. Man, she felt good, all soft and boneless in his easy embrace. He buried his mouth in her hair. “Because that could be damn addictive.”

Silence hovered around them, broken only by his own hard breathing returning to normal and the quiet hum of crickets. He stroked his hand over her tousled hair, unbelievably silky beneath his palm. Nothing was settled between them, but they felt different, almost like he could breathe easy and let go, let himself trust for a little while.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she flexed her hand along his ribs. “So what do we do, Savannah?”

“We do Hamilton’s baptism and that fundraiser you keep talking about. You take care of your sister, as much as she’ll let you.” She moved a shoulder in a light shrug and yawned. “We keep doing tomorrow and see where we end up.”

* * * * *

Savannah rested her head on the window and watched the town open up around them. Streetlights cast pools of golden light on deserted sidewalks, and only a couple of cars passed by them on the main streets near the courthouse square. Colton Dixon crooned from the radio, and Emmett sang along quietly, tapping his palm against the wheel.

She smiled at the relaxed line of his shoulders, even though his expression remained a little pensive.

Being with him like this felt good.

He swung the right into the complex lot and braked harder than necessary.

“Ah, fuck.” His agonized whisper sounded anything but relaxed, and she sent a quick, searching glanced across the parking lot.

“What?” She didn’t see anything out of place, other than a white Chevrolet Z71 in his parking spot. She laid a hand on his thigh, singing with stress under her palm.

He didn’t reply, a muscle flicking above his rigid jaw. He parked in one of the empty spots down from their apartments and killed the engine. His phone rang, and he snatched it from the console to glare at the screen before swiping to answer.

“Fuck off. I’m pissed as hell at you.” He listened a moment, brows drawn into a deep scowl. “Yeah, let’s go to lunch tomorrow. I can ream your ass then.”

A squawk of laughter that sounded suspiciously like Clark Dempsey’s carried through the device, and Emmett’s glare deepened. “Not funny, Clark. Asshole.”

He cut off the call, shoved the phone in his pocket, and pushed his door open. Savannah followed and joined him on the walkway before the ground-floor apartments. Whatever he saw that she didn’t had completely undone everything she’d done earlier to relax him.

His front door opened and shut, and Tick Calvert approached them, dressed casually in jeans and a red polo.

“Did they call you?” Emmett flung a hand toward the Ford Taurus sitting in a visitor’s spot.

Brows lifted, Calvert rested his hands at his hips. “No. I came by to check on Landra and bring her my extra shotgun, but I see you already took care of that.”

“Yeah, because I’m gonna leave her alone without a way to protect herself.” Emmett’s posture didn’t relax. “How long has Mama been here?”

“About an hour.”

“How wound up is she?”

“On a scale of one to ten?” Calvert shrugged, a slight grin playing about his mouth. “About a twelve.”

“Great.” Emmett groaned, body dipping at the knees. “Let me guess, they think I’m out getting into trouble.”

“Probably not the kind you were actually getting into.”

Savannah startled as Calvert reached out and plucked a piece of pine straw from her tousled hair. A flush spread over Emmett’s cheekbones, and Calvert grinned.

“She’s settling down.” Calvert jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I reminded her that I know a different side of you and you weren’t likely to risk your career by doing anything stupid. Landra pointed out you’d left with Dr. Mills here and that she’d probably be helpful in keeping you in line.”

“I can keep myself in line without any help.”

“You and I know that, but face it, your mama had to clean up a lot of your teenage messes, and in her mind, you’re still her little boy.” Calvert pulled his keys from his pocket. “Go talk to your mama and put her mind at ease. And don’t be late in the morning. I found about fifteen more cold-case files that need to be digitized. Bennett’s going to have plenty to keep him busy when he comes back to work.”

Hand lifted in farewell, Calvert strode to the Chevrolet. As he backed out and exited, Emmett exhaled a long breath. “Don’t be late? What the hell? I’m never late for work. Like, in six years, I was never late for a shift.”

Savannah wrapped her hand around his biceps. “You okay?”

He glanced down and scuffed his hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

“Liar.” She exerted gentle pressure on his arm to pull him to her. With her other hand, she traced the taut line of his lower lip. “What can I do to help?”

“You’re already doing it.” He relaxed slightly under her touch, then glanced toward his door. “I need to check on Landra and talk to Mama.”

“Go.” She released him with a gentle smile. “I’ll be up if you want to come over after.”

He rested his hand at the small of her back and leaned down to kiss her. “I might take you up on that.”

Chapter Eleven

“I feel underdressed.” Savannah quirked an eyebrow at her reflection. She’d not brought her entire wardrobe over from Valdosta, leaving much of it in storage at her parents’ in hopes that SGM wouldn’t make her stay long. The green silk blouse and black slacks would have to do. Maybe she’d bring some things back after Hamilton’s baptism tomorrow.

“For the Cue Club, you’re probably overdressed.” Emmett’s thin gray sweater muffled his voice a moment as he tugged it over his head. “Trust me.”

She pulled her leather jacket from the closet and stepped into the sexy black shoes she’d worn the first night they’d had dinner. If he was right, the edginess of the jacket would tone down the formality. He sat on the foot of her bed to pull on his black boots. His hair, damp from a shared shower, stuck out from his head, and he ran his fingers through it. She paused, struck by the casual intimacy of this, getting ready to go out, and how completely not freaked out she was.

This living thing wasn’t too shabby, if it involved having him in her space, in her bed. With Landra staying in his room, he’d migrated to Savannah’s the past night or so, and she liked it, even if they weren’t sleeping together in every sense of the word.

He was a great kisser, and sheesh, the man was talented with his hands.

Not to mention he was an all-around good guy. She had the impression he was deliberately keeping his interactions with Landra separated from his interactions with her, but there was a protectiveness in the way he looked over his sister that warmed Savannah. A couple of times, she’d awakened alone, only to have him slip back into the bed minutes later. She knew without asking he had gone next door to make sure Landra was all right.

Savannah refused to look too closely at what was holding them back. That didn’t fit into the paradigm of doing today, then doing tomorrow. Today was a musical fundraiser for the local injured EMTs; tomorrow was celebrating Hamilton’s place in their family.

Then they’d see where they were.

“You ready?” He hefted his violin case.

“Yes.” She started for the door and paused. “Wait. Jewelry.”

In the ER, she didn’t wear any jewelry, so forgetting it when she went out wasn’t unusual. Her pearls were already laid out for tomorrow, but they weren’t what she wanted for tonight. She slipped on her thin gold watch and pursed her lips at the limited selection of earrings.

“So, um, speaking of jewelry.”

She glanced over her shoulder, frowning at the uncertainty in his voice. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

“I saw these the other night in Moultrie and thought they looked like you.” He extended a small plastic bag in her direction. A hesitant smile hitched the corners of his mouth and disappeared. “If you don’t want them, it’s okay. Landra said I could give them to her for Christmas.”

The caution in his demeanor made her chest hurt. She didn’t care what he handed her; she’d wear the tackiest Cracker Jack box jewelry to get that look off his face.

She stepped toward him, and he laid the bag in her hand. Opals sparkled up at her from a sleek gold setting. “Oh.”

“It’s really okay if you don’t like them.”