Chapter 4 — Unprepared Situation
Emily had barely gotten both hands on him before the stranger backed into the edge of the bed.
He caught himself, looked at her like he still wasn’t sure how they had gone from arguing to this, and then kissed her anyway.
That was probably fair. Emily wasn’t entirely sure either.
His hand slid around her waist and pulled her closer. She climbed onto his lap without asking, knees bracketing his hips, and the kiss that had started hard and messy—more frustration than anything else—changed the second she settled her weight on him.
She stopped grabbing at his jeans and pushed her hands up under his shirt instead, palms flat against bare skin. He flinched once when her fingers pressed too hard, then made a low sound against her mouth that she liked more than she should have.
Emily kissed him again and felt him give a little. His hands were still trying to be careful. One stayed at her waist while the other moved up her back, into her hair, then down again like he kept catching himself. Every time he seemed to remember he should slow down, she rolled her hips against him and kissed him harder until the good intention broke.
His mouth opened under hers. She tasted whatever he’d been drinking earlier and the faint metallic edge of blood that wasn’t hers. When she dragged her nails lightly over one of the bruises on his chest, he made another rougher sound, and his hand tightened in her hair hard enough to tip her head back.
She let him. For a second they just breathed against each other’s mouths, her still straddling his lap, his hands gripping her like he couldn’t decide whether to pull her closer or push her off the bed.
Then he kissed her, deeper, and whatever control he’d been holding onto started slipping.
She kissed him back just as hard, and the second his teeth caught her split lip, she winced against his mouth.
“Shit—”
He eased off immediately, but she didn’t let him go far. She chased his mouth again, and when a low sound left him, she bit down a little too hard without meaning to. The sharp edge of it made her flinch this time.
His hands dropped lower. He gripped her ass through her jeans, fingers digging in, pulling her tighter against the front of his jeans so she could feel exactly how hard he already was.
Emily rolled her hips once in answer and felt the sound he made against her mouth.
Then his hands slid up under the back of her shirt. Warm palms on bare skin. He dragged them slowly up her spine, mapping the line of it, until his fingers found the band of her bra. He didn’t unhook it. He just ran his thumbs under the edge, back and forth, teasing.
Emily’s breath went uneven. She kept kissing him, one hand still under his shirt, the other fisted in the fabric near his shoulder. Every time he sucked at her lip a little harder, she made a small pained sound into his mouth and kept going anyway.
When she bit him back after a moan, he answered by gripping her ass tighter and pulling her down against him again.
They stayed like that—her straddling his lap, both of them breathing hard, hands moving under clothes, mouths open and hungry—neither of them willing to slow down.
Then he broke away.
“Wait.”
Emily was breathing hard. “What?”
He stared at her for a second. “I don’t know. I’m trying to think.”
“Really?”
His mouth twitched.
Emily leaned in again, but he caught her lightly by the shoulders.
“You were passed out an hour ago.”
“I’m not passed out now. I know where I am. I know who you are.”
He gave her a look.
Emily stopped. “Well, no. Actually, I don’t know who you are.”
That finally made him laugh, and it surprised her.
She touched the bruise forming along his ribs.
He flinched.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“You got that because of me?”
“Mostly.”
“Poor you.”
He stared at her.
Emily realized a second too late that she probably should have sounded more apologetic.
“I mean, thank you. Obviously.”
There was still a trace of amusement in his face.
She leaned forward and kissed him again before he could change his mind.
This time he removed his shirt, and then his hand slid under the back of her shirt again and settled against bare skin. Emily sucked in a breath when his fingers spread over her lower back.
“Okay,” she murmured.
His mouth moved to her jaw. She tilted her head without thinking.
The motel room suddenly felt much too warm.
Emily tugged at the waistband of his jeans, then stopped.
“Do you have condoms?”
He froze when his face was near her neck.
“What?”
“Condoms.”
“I heard you.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
He leaned back enough to see her properly. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, and Emily saw him trying not to laugh.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You don’t have any?”
“No.”
Emily stared at him. “Seriously?”
“I wasn’t planning this.” He laughed again. “I got the room because you were unconscious. I don’t walk around the city with condoms in my pocket.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not sixteen.”
He looked at her for a long second.
Emily started peeling at a loose bit of skin on her lower lip.
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“You’re making it bleed again.”
Emily touched the split.
“Oh.”
He reached up before she could think much about it and ran his thumb just beneath her lower lip.
The touch was softer than everything else they had done so far. And that changed the mood more than the kissing had.
Emily looked at him before she kissed him again, slowly this time.
His hands returned to her immediately. He moved her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Emily sat down, and he stood between her legs for a moment while she looked up at him.
His breathing had changed.
That pleased her. This meant that for all the control he had been trying to show, he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted her to think.
Emily touched his stomach.
“You’re very bruised.”
“You punched me.”
“I did?”
“In the bar.”
She stared at him. “I don’t remember that.”
His expression changed. The heat between them stayed, but something else slipped underneath it.
Emily saw the question before he asked.
“How much don’t you remember?”
She looked away. “Enough,” she said and didn’t explain.
She wasn’t going to tell a stranger about Dean Ashford while sitting on a motel bed with her hand against his bare stomach.
She tugged him closer instead. He let her and his mouth found hers again.
After that, there was less talking.
