Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena) (14 page)

Normally he’d be a
hell yeah
kind of guy. He’d apply with the garter on or off or, hell, he’d wear it if it made her smile. In fact, he was applying for whatever position would bring them both back to that night in San Francisco and the way she’d moaned his name. The only thing he wasn’t applying for was forever, because he wasn’t the kind to offer that to anyone. He knew that life was tenuous at best, so unpredictable and ever-changing that he couldn’t promise something he didn’t believe in.

Nothing about Emerson was predictable—or easy. Normally she was cloaked in Converse, a leather skirt, and that hands-off attitude. Occasionally she dressed up like a giant cork. But tonight she’d shown up at the bar looking soft and sweet in a dress that a wife would have worn to greet her man at base. A part of him wondered what it would be like to have a woman like her waiting for him, but the other part knew better—he wasn’t that guy. Would never be that guy.

“I’m not a long-term bet, Emi.”

“I have enough long-term in my life, Dax. Tonight I’m just looking for some fun.” There was a playfulness to her voice that went straight through him.

“Then it looks like I’m your guy,” he said, sliding his hand around the nape of her neck and pulling her in. “Because babe, I am going to have you smiling so hard you’ll feel it straight through next week.”

“Big words again,” she said against his lips, then her hand slid that extra millimeter higher and she smiled. “Oh. Right. You brought backup.”

Her hands had him groaning in pleasure, but her making the first move was so incredibly hot, he reined in his focus so he could turn up the heat and make a move of his own. And this wasn’t a move from his standard playbook, because when it came to Emi the rules didn’t apply.

So he lowered his head and took her mouth without warning.

And that kiss packed more heat than a nuclear missile. It wasn’t the usual hot-and-heavy kiss or even the I-missed-this kiss that one might expect between two people who had a steamy but brief history. Nope, it was a tongue-down-her-throat, hands-on-her-ass, real lightning-worthy and let’s-get-it-on kind of kiss that a man gave a woman when he wanted to be clear about just how hard he was going to rock her world.

Only she moaned into his mouth, a sweet mewling sound that was as sexy as it was unexpected, and Dax admitted right then, with his ass frozen to the concrete step and Emerson’s hands giving him the massage of his life, that he might just be the one to have his world rocked.

This
, Emerson decided, was the best interview she’d had in years.

Maybe ever.

Dax kissed like a man who knew what he wanted and wouldn’t hesitate in the follow-through. It was a wicked promise and an erotic threat all wrapped up into one hot ball of yummy man. And he was right, this was just what she needed.

A night of adult fun that didn’t have to grow into strings.

He nipped at her lower lip, taking this show straight past slow and into confident demand. His fingers, they were confident too—teasing the edge of her dress, tracing back and forth over the edge of her thigh-highs to fiddle with the clip on the garter belt. Then his thumb did a little one-two action and the clip unfastened and a fishnet was released.

“Inside,” he mumbled against her mouth. “We need to take this inside.”

She didn’t want to go inside. Not yet. She was just getting used to the erotic feel of his hot lips on her chilled skin. “Later.”

His hands came around her wrist and stilled her fingers—right as she was about to get the last button of his jeans undone. “There won’t be much of a later if you keep that up.” She wrapped her free hand around his neck and bit his ear. “Okay,” he said. “We go inside and you get to pick the first location.”

She thought that over and smiled. “We go inside and I get to pick the first location and the first position.”

“God, you drive me crazy.” He kissed her hard and fast, letting her know it was the right kind of crazy. Or at least she hoped. Then he took her by the hand and led her to the apartment door.

Emerson rummaged through her backpack for her keys, which she found under the still-unmailed Street Eats envelope, then slid them in the door. She had tempting and tattooed trouble incarnate standing behind her, and everything she’d been working toward right in front of her. Could she really afford this distraction right now?

“Second thoughts, Emi?” he teased, tracing her spine—with his
lips. “Because if we go in there, you won’t be sneaking out in the middle
of the night. This is going to last from now until we both can’t move.”

Emerson’s bones liquefied. She turned around and found herself pinned between the door and Dax, who at the moment was a tower of temptation in yesterday’s scruff, a battered ball cap, and button-fly jeans—with the top buttons already undone.

“One night,” she clarified. “And then everything goes back to normal.”

He leaned a hand on the frame of the door, boxing her in. “If you say so.”

“I need to hear you say it.” She held her ground, because there was so much riding on the next few weeks and maintaining this job with him. “Nothing gets weird between us?”

“What do you think I’ll do?” he asked. “Sleep with you now and fire you Monday?”

“It’s been known to happen.”

He studied her for a long moment, then his eyes softened, along with his voice. “Nothing gets weird, Emi. I promise. And I might not be the kind of guy you’d bring home to Dad, but I never go back on my word.”

“Then no second thoughts.” And no ditching out before she had her fun. “I was just wondering if I should pick the wall next to the fireplace or the shower, then I remembered my body soap is green, so maybe wall?”

“Smart-ass,” he said, his hands skimming down her dress as he walked her back a few inches and the door gave way. Suddenly they were inside, the door kicked shut, and even though it was completely dark, she could feel the fire of Dax’s gaze, his warm breath as he ate up the remaining distance.

“You like it when I’m a smart-ass,” she challenged.

“I like it better when you’re a naked smart-ass,” he said, slipping his jacket off her shoulders and continuing to guide her backward, past the couch, the table, and into the kitchen.

“Admit it, you’re just a fan of my ass.”

“I need to do a thorough investigation before I can make that endorsement.” His hands slid up her thighs, slowly over her tush, giving it a little squeeze, then all the way up her back. Her body tingled with every inch his fingers rose. When he got to her shoulders, he lowered his hands back down, only she heard the whisper of her zipper going with them. Felt his world-roughened fingertips following the long descent of the dress.

Then her dress pooled to the floor and his hands palmed her ass, molding and shaping it, even tracing the seam of her silk panties from the back, then—
oh, sweet baby Jesus
—the front.

“Still not sure?” she asked, a millimeter away from a complete meltdown.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he said, taking a cheek in each hand and scooping her up and setting her on the really cold wood surface of the kitchen table. She squeaked and then he flicked on the light. “I just needed a moment to really compare.”

His gaze raked over her, taking her all in as she sat on the table, splayed out for his viewing pleasure. He paused on her garter belt, then flashed her a grin that was all trouble, causing her pulse to skyrocket and her mouth to go dry. Everything else went wet, because that was all it took. A single flash of his teeth and that slow burn deep in her belly was lit.

“The shower’s that way.” She pointed down the hall, wondering how this had already spiraled out of her control.

“I can’t appreciate you fully in the shower.” She reached over to flip the light switch and he caught her hand. “Or with the lights off.”

She imagined he used that commanding tone when he was giving out orders. It sure made her want to take direction. “You can’t appreciate anything because I’m sitting.”

He laughed low and gravelly, sounding very male and very amused. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Emi.” To prove it, he rested his palms on either side of her and leaned forward. Her lips parted in anticipation, desperate for his touch. But at the last minute he dipped his head to run his tongue over the lace trim of her bra, then sucked her aching bud into his mouth.

“Dax,” she moaned, her head falling back to give him better access. Access that he took full advantage of, teasing and nipping until she forgot what they were arguing about.

A fact she was certain he knew, because she felt him smile against her skin, and he kissed his way down her belly, making it quiver the farther south he journeyed. “A man can’t enjoy dessert in the shower,” he said and she felt his words vibrate against her skin. “He wants to feast slowly, take his time to savor and enjoy.”

His statement was as alpha as they came. Confident and assured, with enough cockiness that she had no doubt he would deliver on his promise. And then some. Plus, his teeth were nipping at the lace along the upper edge of her garter belt, causing that slow burn to turn into a wildfire.

Then, without warning, he planted one final kiss, so close to home she wanted to weep with relief, until he pulled away.

Emerson’s eyes flew open, and it took her a moment to gain her wits and realize that he was sitting on a kitchen chair, making himself comfortable.

“What are you doing?”

“What I’ve wanted to do since I woke up in San Francisco and found you gone.” He gently took her ankle and placed it on his thigh. Then the other, giving them both a little squeeze, telling her to leave them there. As if she could possibly move.

Her mind went fuzzy when, with a masterful flick of the fingers, he let the clip open on her fishnets, hooked his thumbs in them, and slowly slid them over her knees, down her calves, and finally off. “Actually I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you walk out in this dress tonight. But this,” he said, eyeing her barely there silk panties. “This I have been dreaming about for months.”

Emerson watched breathlessly as he lowered his head to brush his mouth along the inside of her thigh, sliding ever so slowly up to the lower edge of her panties, where he gave a sexy tug with his teeth, then a more deliberate one with his fingers. As he pulled the silk down, his lips followed, kissing every inch of skin he exposed.

Dropping her panties to the floor, he looked up at her through his lashes. “Ready, Emi?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, instead sliding his hands beneath her bottom and dragging her forward until she was teetering on the edge of the table. Then, without breaking eye contact, Dax slid his soft tongue all the way up her center.

And his mouth? His mouth was everything he’d promised: diligent, skilled, deadly accurate—and equipped with teeth that had her worked up in a complete frenzy in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Dax was also the ultimate tease, keeping the pace slow and purposeful, taking her higher and higher without letting her crash. But there was something reverent about the way he held her hip, the way his thumb slid back and forth over her stomach, offering her comfort and connection.

His big, calloused fingers slid up her leg, then one slipped between, while he thoroughly took her apart, stroke by stroke, slowly driving her out of her mind until her heart was pounding against her rib cage and her need was so intense it ached. The harder she reached, the further away she seemed to be. Then she heard herself begging.

“Dax, please.”

“Please what, Emi?”

“Please,” she breathed. “Now.”

She could have sworn he said, “Now what?” Or maybe that was him chuckling, but the big jerk didn’t please her anything. He just kept feasting and teasing as if he had no intention of ever letting her come.

“Now,” she said, tightening her legs. “No more foreplay. I need you in me now.”

“You can boss me around all you want, Emi,” he said against her burning flesh, and yup, he was chuckling—and slowing down. “But in my world, it’s ladies first. Always.”

And true to his word, he slid in a second finger, his sniper skills coming in handy, allowing him to hit the target.

“Do that again,” she said, realizing she was bossy.

“That?” Another bull’s-eye and her body tightened.

“Oh yeah, just like that.” Because bossy be damned, she was so close to an orgasm. When he did it again, her core coiled to ride that fine line between pain and pleasure. He gave a final pass, and her body arched up against his mouth and she exploded around him, her hips jerking with sweet release.

She had no clue how long she lay there, but when the aftershocks faded she fluttered her eyes open to find herself flat on her back and Dax standing over her, a forearm on either side of her head. His tattoos were taut and flexed as he held himself above her, and he was wearing a slow, sexy smile.

And nothing else.

Dax was naked. Completely and gloriously naked.

“Are we going to the shower now?” she asked when she was able to breathe.

“Oh, no. That’s dessert. We still have the main course.” He pinned her to the table with his deliciously hard body, running his hands down her sides, molding them to her butt.