Emily awoke the next morning, her slumberous gaze mesmerized by Dillon's sleeping body. She rested her head against his warm chest as her mind drifted over their relationship. As with anyone, there were quirks, and he was full of them. She knew she would get used to all of it, but in the meantime, his fast-paced lifestyle was the biggest challenge for her. At first, their differences didn't seem so big to her because their relationship grew and blossomed in her world. Now that she was coexisting in his, there was a lot she needed to accept.
Trophy girlfriend wasn't on her top-ten list, and since she'd moved to New York, this was a side of Dillon she was starting to see. From the couple of times she'd gone out with him, it seemed like he was parading her around to the few friends of his that she'd met. Over the last few weeks, she also noticed a possessive shift in his demeanor. Sometimes it was cute - in a boyfriend kind of way - but most times, it was overbearing and confusing. Nonetheless, in that moment, as her senses soaked in all of the good he had done for her, Emily accepted it for what it was.
She curled her body closer to his, moving a wayward strand of hair away from his forehead.
Letting out a yawn, he smiled at her. "You're up early," he said, his voice husky from just waking. "I must not have done a good job sexing you into a coma last night."
Playfully nuzzling her nose in the crook of his arm, she smiled. "If you had sexed me into a coma, you would never be able to be with me again, sir."
"Ah, that you are incorrect on, my love. I'd still take it from you - coma or not."
"That's just sick," she giggled, sitting up.
A predatory glimmer sparkled in his brown eyes. "Ready for round two?"
"Aren't you taking me to breakfast this morning like you promised?"
"Of course I am."
"Well, I have to be at work by ten o'clock, and I still need to shower."
"You know I'm good for a quickie if need be," he said, rising to his feet and then pulling her from the bed.
Unable to say no to his sexual advance, she followed without a fight as he undressed them both before they reached the bathroom. She propped herself on top of the vanity and watched as he turned on the water. She could feel the edgy energy radiating from his body as he strolled over to her, wearing a boyish grin that got her every time. He pulled her into his mouth and kissed her so softly that she felt her lips shiver against his. She could no sooner free herself from the hypnotic spell of his kiss if she wanted to. With his hands smoothing everywhere, branding his hot touch against her skin, fervor fueled in her blood, making her body strain for more. He shifted his mouth to the valley between her breasts and suddenly slid his tongue across her nipple. It drove her wild.
Staring up at her, he sucked and swirled his tongue around its taut peak. "You like that, don't you?"
"Yes," she breathed out as her hands gripped his hair.
With a slow, maddening pace, he tunneled his fingers inside her wet pussy. The pressure was excruciatingly wonderful, correlating with the sudden tightening sensation between her legs. He pushed harder against her mouth while she dug her nails into his back, clawing and grasping at his flesh. Dillon groaned as she ran her hands across his chest, her fingers slowly sliding down every muscled ridge on his abdomen. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he carried her into the shower. Backing her against the wall, she let out a gasp of pleasure when he sank perfectly deep inside her, every nerve ending lit on fire as her body melded together as one with his.
"Ah, Christ, you feel so good, Em," he hissed, his voice thick with desire.
Emily clung to his shoulders as the hot water trickled down their bodies. Her ache for him increased with every pulse and thrust. With their lips locked in a magnificent fiery of sexual gratification, Emily clenched her legs tighter around his waist to allow him to bury himself to the hilt. Arching her body rhythmically against his, she took everything he had to give. Dillon's eyes dilated when he felt her hot, slick flesh contract tighter around him. Emily moaned out in satisfied completion when she felt Dillon jerk, shudder, and tremble against her. Burying his face in her neck, he let out a guttural groan as he climaxed. Pulling back, their gazes met and locked, holding steady as their breathing slowed to a normal pace.
"I love you, Emily," he said as he gently placed her down and pulled her into him. "I'm happy you're here with me."
"I love you, too, and I'm sorry for the way I acted last night before you left." She started feathering kisses across his chest, her hands framing his face. "I'll try to be more understanding with your wacky schedules from now on."
He gave her a soft grin. "I know you will."
They spent the next half hour showering one another. Dillon playfully ran the soap over her body, and Emily returned the gesture as she cleaned his back. It was then that she realized what he said last night was correct. She needed to be there with Dillon. She loved him. There wasn't a fiber in her soul that thought she could live so far away from him again.
Considering they didn't have time to go out to eat breakfast, Emily wound up cooking for them. After cleaning up, Dillon left for work. She got ready for her shift and then called her sister, Lisa, who lived in California. She missed her tremendously. Older than Emily by ten years, Lisa was like a second mother. She married her high-school sweetheart, Michael, six years ago. Because of her absentee father, Emily looked to Michael in ways that she would've looked to her own father had he been there. Lisa and Michael meant the world to Emily. Not that seeing them was easy before her mom died, but literally being on opposite sides of the continent now, Emily knew that their visits would be less frequent. However, they made a tentative date to try to see each other within the next few months.
Once finished, Emily jumped in a taxi and headed to work. On her way, she found herself remembering how much her mom wanted to visit New York. She went as far as booking tickets to a show on Broadway, but she fell ill shortly after. The rapid-fire pace of events after she was sick prevented her from being able to go. It was a bittersweet thought in Emily's head at that moment. Here she was in the city her mother longed to visit, but she wasn't there with her. As she made her way into the restaurant, Emily tried to push the sorrow invading her thoughts to the side.
"Hey! You no gonna say hi to me?" Roberto, the Spanish cook, asked Emily. "Me like you, Emmy. Me like you a lot."
"Hi, Roberto," she laughed. "I like you, too."
He blushed as Emily punched her card through the time clock. Fallon let her know that they felt she was strong enough to have her own station. Since she was able to pull her weight during the rush yesterday, they gave her a few tables to start with. Her first set of customers was a few New York City police officers.
Antonio watched her closely as she approached them.
"Hello, my name's Emily. I'll be taking care of you today." Smiling, she pulled her pen and pad out of her apron. "Would you gentlemen like to place your drink orders, or do you know what you want?"
The oldest officer, a man with salt-and-pepper hair, smiled back. "You're not our regular waitress."
"No, sir, I'm not. I just started working here yesterday, so you gentlemen need to take it easy on me, okay?" Emily gestured over her shoulder to Antonio. "My boss is watching."
With warm faces, they laughed, clearly amused at her remark.
The youngest cop chimed in. "Who? Antonio? Nah, he's harmless."
The middle-aged cop gave a smirk. "Don't worry. We'll try to be nice, but sometimes we can be a pain in the ass."
"Well, don't be too hard on me, boys." Emily smiled, happy that they all had a sense of humor. "What can I get you gentlemen to drink?"
Emily took their orders and sent them back to the kitchen. She had another few tables come in before the lunch rush really picked up. The place went from being pretty calm to a madhouse layered with every type of customer she could've imagined.
As Emily walked out with one table's orders, Antonio called out to her. "Hey, Country," he said, motioning to one of her booths in the corner. "You just got sat again. Are you okay to take another?"
She adjusted the tray she was carrying on her shoulder. "Yeah, I'm cool. I'll be right there."
He nodded and whisked off to the front door to greet more customers.
She reached for a tray stand, sat the food down, and handed the plates out to a party of five. "Does anyone need anything else?" she asked the group.
An attractive brunette in a summer dress looked up, holding an empty glass of soda. "I need a refill, please."
Emily gave a hurried smile and grabbed the glass. "I'll be right back."
She headed over to the soda fountain, glancing over to the table where she could barely see the lone gentleman that she had yet to greet. "Shit," she mumbled to herself.
Quickly returning to the party of five, she handed the woman her drink. "Sorry about that. Does anyone need anything else?" she asked, inwardly praying no one did.
They all shook their heads no.
Emily let out a soft sigh of relief and let them know she'd be back to check on them. Walking away, she pulled her order pad from her apron and rounded the corner. Sliding her hand across her sweaty forehead, she approached the table and accidentally dropped her pen to the ground in front of the booth. She knelt down to pick it up, but before she could, the stranger's hand reached for it.
"Thank you," Emily said, still crouched on the floor. "I appreciate that. Can I..." Her voice trailed off when she made eye contact with the patron.
It was Mr. Tall, Dark, and Fuckable Handsome from the elevator. Her breath caught at the sight of him sitting there casually as she slowly stood up. She literally had to hold onto the table for balance. He was even better looking than she remembered. Not that less than twenty-four hours could erase his image from her head, but now he was just so there, so male, and so enthralling. He sparked that all too familiar tingle across her skin. He had his suit jacket off, hung neatly on a hook next to the booth. He was wearing a crisp white button-down shirt, and the stark absence of color only emphasized his clear blue eyes.
Gavin's lips curled into a smile. "You don't look too happy to see me."
"I'm just a little...I..." Emily struggled to find her words.
Gavin wasn't about to admit that his need to see her again was intense - so fucking intense that he actually canceled a meeting with a large account in hopes of catching her at work. Nor would he tell her that when the elevator doors closed last night, he was left feeling oddly robbed by her departure.
"You ran off so quickly last night that I didn't get a chance to give you a tip for delivering the food."
"Ooohhh." Emily elongated the word, trying to think of something to say since he seemed to wipe her clear of any thoughts. "Right...about the way I left...I'm sorry about that." She bit down on the pen cap and quickly asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"
Gavin flicked his gaze to her beautiful lips and smiled at what he thought to be a nervous reaction on her part. "Yes, I'll take a coffee, please."
"Do you take cream or sugar in that?"
He cocked his head to the side. "Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Take cream or sugar in your coffee?"
Thrown by his question, she shifted on her feet. "Why do you want to know?"
Gavin paused for a moment, a grin softening his mouth. "Well, I'm trying to find out as much as I can about you. I figured coffee was an easy enough topic to conquer. I may be wrong though."