Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)(22)

Emma and I played pool—or more accurately, she played pool while I stared at her ass while she was leaning over the table. She’s only wearing jeans and a little T-shirt, and her hair is in a ponytail, but I’ve never seen a sexier woman. Yeah, this was a horrible idea coming here tonight. There is no question in my mind that I’m going to end the night inside her. And even though it’s f*cked up, I’m going to do my damnedest to get her on the same page. She’s been more than flirty all night. She held my arm as we walked around the city and even squeezed in tight against my back as we weaved through one of the more crowded bars. I don’t exactly think it’s going to be a hard sell.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she says, standing up from the high-top table.

I watch her long legs as she stands. She is so f*cking tall. I love it. I can’t wait to drag my tongue up those thighs tonight. Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.

I, along with every guy in the room, track her perfect ass as she walks across the bar. Just before she disappears around the corner toward the bathrooms, I catch a glimpse of one guy tapping his buddy on the arm and nodding toward her. I don’t blame them. She’s smoking hot.

The best part about Emma is that she’s not some stuck-up snob who expects men to worship her. Hell, the fact that she didn’t get all dressed up to come out tonight is proof. Emma is comfortable in her own skin, and that confidence is sexier than anything she could ever put on. I laugh to myself at the poor guys.

No sooner than Emma clears the corner, both guys both rise to follow her. Yep, that’s my cue. I head back towards the bathrooms just to find her. You can never be too careful. At least that’s what I tell myself. It has nothing to do with the idea of those pricks hitting on what’s mine. Nope, not at all. I’m just making sure she’s safe. Right.

“Savannah,” I hear Emma say as I get close to the corner.

“Oh yeah? What brings you all the way to the Windy City?” Douchebag One says.

I wait for a minute, listening, very aware of how big of a creeper I look like while eavesdropping. I’m really curious how Emma is going to handle this though.

“I just moved up here last week,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s cold. I’m not going to lie. I’m ready for bathing suit season.”

“I think we are all ready for that, baby,” Douchebag Two says very suggestively. It almost has me turning the corner to interrupt, but Emma’s response keeps rooted.

“Well not everyone. You should probably stick with jeans and a sweatshirt,” she says in such an exaggerated Southern accent that she almost makes it sound sweet.

I bark out a laugh but quickly try to cover it. Luckily Douchebag One also laughs are her catty reply.

“Just ignore him. How about I show you around town? You want to grab some dinner tomorrow night? I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“I don’t know how my guy would feel about that. I can ask though.” She perks up. “Hey, Caleb!” she shouts around the corner.

Fuck! Oh yeah. Emma’s not stupid. She knew I was standing here all along. I shake my head at myself and round the corner to face the group.

“Do we have dinner plans tomorrow night?” she asks with a huge knowing smile. “This friendly Chicago man just asked if he could show me around.” Then she bites her lip to keep in the laugh. Emma is f*cking with me right now just as much as she is these guys.

Game on.

I walk over and suddenly pull her hard against my body. I drag my nose up her neck, breathing her fruity scent as I go. I should have left it at that, but I can’t help grazing my teeth across her ear before pulling away.

“No, sweetheart, we don’t have dinner plans. So if you’d like to go out with these guys, that’s fine.” Her lust-filled eyes go wide with surprise. “You want me to give them your number?” I ask, dropping my hand to splay across her ass. I give it a tight squeeze before leaning away to give her a questioning look.

“Yeah, sorry, boys. I’ve got plans tomorrow night,” she says breathlessly.

“Whatever,” Douchebag One says before walking away.

I stand there for a minute before releasing her. I don’t back away. Instead, I take a step forward, forcing her back against the wall. It’s a small hallway right outside the bathrooms. There is a steady flow of traffic around us, but I have a point to prove. Starting at her hips, I slide my hands up her sides. I’m careful to touch the curve of her breasts on my path, but not enough for it to be a full-on grope. I push her hands up over her head, intertwining our fingers as I pin them to the wall.

“Emmy, I don’t play games,” I whisper into her ear. Her breathing quickens, and she lets out small moan as I circle my hips into hers.

“Yes, you do,” she says, tilting her head to the side. I don’t lean in to taste the exposed neck that might as well be screaming my name. But that doesn’t stop her from leaning forward and dragging her tongue up the side of mine. She pauses at my ear. “You play games the same way I do—hard.” And with that, she pushes her breasts against my chest and rolls her hips into mine.

Fucking hell. I’ve met my match. Things just got dangerous for a completely different reason.

“We need to go home,” I say, barely restraining myself from f*cking her right here.