Instant Gratification (Wilder #2)(56)

She immediately turned from him, which gave him a fantastic view of her world-class ass as she began looking for her clothing. “This,” she muttered, “is becoming ridiculous. I have got to start taking my clothes off in a more civilized nature.”

“Civilized?”

“Yes.” She shook out her wrinkled, wet blouse. “And hanging things up would be good too.”

“You think you should be able to stop and hang up each piece of clothing as it comes off.” He nodded even though he thought it was the stupidest idea he’d ever heard.

“It would be helpful.”

He laughed at her, at himself, then bent with her when she went for her pants. He put his hands on her arms and kissed her, kissed her long and deep and wet, and when he pulled back, they were both breathing hard again. It would have been pretty damn ego-boosting at how fast he could get her all worked up except she didn’t want to be worked up to begin with. “Tell me how the hell we’re supposed to do that,” he demanded softly, “and think rationally at the same time.”

She blinked, as if surprised at the question. “Well, I’ve never actually had this particular problem before. I’ve always been able to maintain some composure.”

He stared at her, then shook his head. “Who have you been sleeping with? Robots?”

Not the right thing to ask, given the way her eyes cooled. She turned away from him. “Not robots, no.”

He stared at her stiff, proud shoulders and sighed. She hadn’t given herself to anyone else in a long time, and when she had, it’d been Spencer, who while an excellent friend, apparently hadn’t inspired any wild passion. Before that, maybe another doctor, someone fancy and important, maybe someone on a schedule similar to hers. They’d probably booked their sex on their Blackberries, maybe even had their assistants book it, all “civilized.” “Emma.”

She didn’t look at him as she pulled on the dry sweats and hung up her wet things, so he put on his wet clothes with a wince. There was nothing worse than putting on wet clothes after very satisfying sex, except for maybe putting on wet clothes after not having very satisfying sex. “Emma.”

Nothing.

He turned her to face him. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes unhappy, and his stomach clenched as he tried to pull her in.

“Okay, whoa.” She pointed at him. “No more of that.”

“The hugging?”

“The looking at me like I mean something to you. The soft, sexy voice that makes it so I can’t think. The touching. The kissing. The…rest. Most definitely the rest.” She exited the closet, heading to the reception area, where she pulled open the door for him, setting off the ceramic cowbells.

It’d stopped raining, but water still dripped off the eaves. He walked to where she stood in the doorway, purposely crowding her. “Can’t help the looking at you like you mean something, because you do.”

“Stop.”

“Because…?”

“Because it’s a mistake. And because I don’t like to make mistakes. Look,” she said on a sigh, searching for words. “Starting something with you wouldn’t be right. I’ve already got one foot out the door. I’m only here for my father. That’s it.”

“Sure about that?”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, seems to me that you could have told him no. You could have hired another doctor to run the place. But you didn’t. You came. I think you did because you wanted to connect.”

“I connect plenty. I’m connected to work. I’m connected to Spencer. I was connected with my mom.”

“Your mom is gone,” he said very gently, taking her hand when she whirled away. “Spencer is a man who by your own admissions is someone who doesn’t stick. And—”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“And,” he went on anyway, “work doesn’t count. So the question stands, Emma. How exactly are you connected right now?”

“You think you have me all figured out.” She yanked free. “But you don’t. You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to know you plenty. I know, for instance, that you swim like a fish, that you’re insanely competitive, a crappy driver, and that you’re amused by people afraid of needles.”

She met his gaze. “That’s all superficial stuff.”

“I’d know more, but you’re pretty careful of yourself.”

“Yeah.” She let out a low breath and looked away. “I guess it’s hard to be insulted by the truth.”

“Look, I know you like challenges,” he said very quietly, stepping close again because he liked being close, lifting her face because he liked to see her eyes. “So here’s a big one for you.”

“I’m not making another bet. I keep losing.”

“You’ll win this one. Let me know you. Let me in.”

“Stone.”

“Try connecting, Emma, with me. Come on, what could it hurt? Unless, of course, you’re afraid.”

Her gaze hit his, inadvertently revealing to him the truth, that she wasn’t afraid of much, but she most definitely was of this.

Them.

“Is that it?” he pressed. “Did I find something the tough, badass New York doc fears?”