Lady Be Good (Wynette, Texas #2)(71)

When she finally stopped the car, she was so relieved she felt limp. She propped her arm on top of the steering wheel, rested her forehead, and closed her eyes.

She sensed movement and heard him turn off the ignition. The leather creaked as he settled into the seat. Time ticked by. The unsteady sound of her breathing rasped in her ears.

Finally, something warm curled around the back of her neck. Rubbed. “You crying, Lady Emma?”

“No,” she answered as firmly as she could. “Just thinking about it.”

“Why don’t you come over here and think about it?” He drew her close, and the next thing she knew, she was curled against his chest.

It was cozy. Comforting. He smelled nice. Clean shirt faintly overlaid with baby.

She refused to cry. Still, it felt good being where she was.

His breath tickled her ear as he spoke in a husky voice. “Would you think I was an insensitive jerk if I slipped my hands inside your blouse?”

She thought about it, then shook her head.

His fingers tickled her skin as he reached between them to unfastened the buttons, then opened the catch of her bra. He traced the shape of her breast with his thumb and kissed her. Then he said softly, “I enjoyed last night.”

“I did, too.”

“You make nice sounds in bed.”

“I do?”

“Uh-huh.” He touched her nipple.

She gave a hum of pleasure.

“Like that.” He shifted her position and his mouth settled over the sensitive tip. He tugged. She arched and gave in to the delicious sensations. When she could no longer hold still, she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and slipped her hand inside to feel that warm, taut skin beneath her palms.

It seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. Within seconds, her blouse hung from her shoulders, her shorts lay in a heap, and her panties draped from one calf. She wasn’t idle, either, and his shirt soon joined her shorts. Through the open zipper of his jeans, she saw navy silk boxers.

“I . . . need to do this.” He shifted her so that she leaned back against the opposite side. Then he spread her legs and lowered his head.

Crisp, dark hair brushed the insides of her thighs, trailed over the soft skin, moved higher until she felt his mouth on her. There . . .

She gasped. Breathed his name. Lost her breath.

He took his time with this, as he did with everything else. She forgot her uncomfortable position, forgot that they were in a car, forgot everything except the touch of his fingers and the deep, wet stroking. Her orgasm came in a noisy sob that shook her entire body.

He stayed. Dallied more. Sent her flying again.

Oh . . . this was too splendid. She wasn’t even aware of her own hands moving against him until he stilled them. She could feel his thick shape through the silk of his boxers and knew it wasn’t lack of desire that made him stop her. She lifted her head and gazed questioningly into the smoky violet eyes.

He looked anguished, and he barely seemed to be able to get out the words. “I need my wallet. I don’t have anything with me.”

She smiled. “I’m on the pill.”

“The pill? But—why didn’t you tell me last night?”

“You ordered me not to talk.” She brushed her lips over his. “And I didn’t want to explain anyway. I’ve been on the pill for a while. Just in case.”

“Just in case you—”

His words broke off as she straddled him. Smiling, she pressed her mouth to his ear. “With your permission . . .”

He groaned and reached beneath her.

This time she wanted to be in control, but he had other ideas, and as she tried to settle down on him, he restrained her hips. “Careful, sweetheart.” He made a deep, indecipherable sound and took charge, only letting her absorb a little bit of him at a time.

“Me . . .” she murmured. “I want to . . .”

He distracted her with a kiss that couldn’t get enough of itself, and, as he explored her mouth with his tongue, he eased inside her.

But even when she had accepted all of him, he still wouldn’t let her take over. Instead, he established the rhythm, knowing instinctively what she needed and giving her everything she wanted except control.

The tips of her breasts rubbed against the light mat of hair on his chest. The insides of her thighs abraded the jeans he’d never completely removed. With her mouth above his, this kiss was different, and she reveled in the novelty. But she wanted more. She wanted him to trust her enough to let her lead the way.

His hands curled around her buttocks and his thumbs performed a trick she’d never imagined at the exact place where they were joined.

“Don’t stop . . .” she managed. “Whatever you do, don’t . . .”

He didn’t. And the sweet, hot flood swept them away.





Chapter 16

Afterward, Emma was glad of the activity, all the tissue-fumbling and clothes-sorting. Kenny seemed glad, too. Maybe he felt the same way she did, that there was something dangerous about so much urgency, something distinctly threatening about two incompatible adults being so wild to get their hands all over each other that they couldn’t wait to find a bed.

She wondered if every woman had to be attracted to a bad boy once in her life. Apparently she did. Maybe she needed to get Kenny Traveler out of her system so that someday there would be space for the right relationship, one that was healthy and appropriate. Maybe she needed Kenny Traveler, just as she’d needed her immunity shots. One dose would protect her from playboys like him for the rest of her life. She began buttoning her blouse as she thought it over.