“Trust me, your mind wouldn’t be on the bugs.”
While her knees wobbled over the inevitable truth of that statement, he slid an arm around her. “I realize you like to be in charge, Emma. Always in control. But you’re supposed to be working on that. That’s what we’re doing here. Relaxing. Letting go.”
Right. Per the written instructions, she closed her eyes and actually heard him smile.
“You reaching for some patience?” he murmured.
“I am. And it would help if you could possibly shut it while I do so.”
She heard his low laugh, then felt him step into her. “Bossy,” he whispered. “Pissy, stubborn as hell, and…”
“And what? Annoying?”
“Well…”
“Always right?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
She snorted out an unexpected laugh and opened her eyes, catching a new light as it came into his, more than simple affection, more than casual fun. “Stone.”
“You’re beautiful, Emma.” He slid a hand around the back of her neck, stroking her jaw with his thumb. “Made all the more so because you don’t even know it.”
Things were happening inside her—besides just the physical response of his touch. She was softening, unveiling the real Emma, without her protective walls. It brought an edge to her arousal, and an odd sort of panic. “I don’t need pretty words.”
“No? Maybe I do.” A callused fingertip ran over her cheek, skimmed her ear.
She shivered. Pretty words, amazing touch…she was a goner. “Seriously, Stone.”
He was looking at her as if she was so important. And also as if he was amused. “I’m afraid of needles, Emma, which is ridiculous enough, but look at you. You’re afraid of niceness.”
“Am not.”
He let her have the lie, moving onto a devastatingly tender, gentle sexiness she had no defense against. “You have the most amazing eyes,” he whispered.
Oh, God.
“Yeah, and a smile that always puts one on my mouth as well, and a way of looking at me that weeds through all the bullshit and sees the real me. You make me laugh, you make me think. You turn me on, Emma, in every way.” As proven when he settled his hands on her hips and pulled her into him so that she could feel him, fully aroused. “You are truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of kissing.” He kissed her then, and God his mouth. He made a sound deep in his throat and turned deeper into the kiss.
He had a way of making her feel like there was nothing but her, but them, and by the time he pulled back slightly, she wasn’t worried about bugs, but how fast she could get her clothes off.
Which was bad. Very, very bad. Her knees were liquid, her body revved for action.
“Your eyes are closed, what’s next?” he asked.
“Be patient.”
“And…”
“Don’t over-think it. Go with your instincts,” she repeated obediently. “But my instincts…”
“What are they telling you?”
To strip naked. “Nothing.”
“Liar,” he chided gently, looking at her from sexy, heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth still wet from hers, his hands—
God, his hands.
They were spread wide on her ribs, his fingertips almost brushing the undersides of her br**sts.
“I blame the kissing,” she decided, her voice a little shaky.
“For…?”
“For me losing my head. Look, you need to back way up.”
He merely smiled and pulled her closer in, and somehow her brain got mixed signals from her body and went with the flow, which wasn’t good. Not good at all. She was going to miss him, miss him so damn much, and that thought wasn’t comforting. She’d miss his humor, his voice, how he made her laugh, the way he looked at her, everything. “Stone.”
“Emma,” he said sweetly.
As if he was sweet! “Okay.” She fisted her hands in his hair. “You know what? Fine. Have it your way. I’m going with my instincts.”
“I like the sound of that. What are they saying?”
“They’re saying we should have sex right here, right now.” She smacked a hand to his chest when his eyes flashed with triumph. “But you should know, we are not cuddling afterwards. Not this time. Not—” She’d been about to say ever, because she was leaving, and cuddling with him messed with her head big time, but he smiled soberly, whispered, “Shh,” and kissed her again.
Chapter 25
Ah, yeah, Stone thought. This. This is what he’d wanted, Emma melting in his arms, her tongue down his throat. Leaning back against the rock, he pulled her with him.
“You should know,” she murmured against his mouth, hands still fisted in his hair, wrapped around him like a pretzel. “This is just instincts talking. Not my heart.”
“Okay,” he said, hoping like hell that was just her trying to convince herself.
Behind them, the thick growth of pines protected them from the breeze. In front was nothing but a staggering view of Lake Tahoe and a three hundred and sixty degree view of majestic, rugged, isolated peaks.
A fact that Stone was most grateful for, especially the isolated part. He nudged Emma down onto their rock alcove, stroked a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear and pulled her neatly tucked in shirt from her pants.
“Really?” She blinked up at him, clearly surprised. “So you believe me? That this is just sex?”