I think I needed this. I don't often talk about my family."
"Shrink?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Not really, no. There'd be plenty of work, but I'm not much of a sharer."
"So I should feel flattered?"
"Not at all — I am the one grateful for your kindness. And your coffee," he added, raising the cup in mock salutation, prompting her to match the gesture.
He'd loosened the bowtie — a proper one, she noted, which hung like a misshapen ribbon around his neck, bracketing his unbuttoned collar. He crossed his legs as he lay back into the sagging red and brown cushions. His hair was mussed, probably because he'd run his long fingers through it one too many times, and he caught Emmy's gaze and returned it, unwavering. By the time she looked away, she could already feel the heat blossoming through her belly.
It was amazing how swiftly the mood changed — from a confidante moment to something altogether edgier. It was almost as if the last hour had been a private interlude, following different rules, and suddenly they were back to the point where they couldn't be in the same room together without the electricity sparking.
When his hand reached for hers, she surrendered it willingly, and let him pull her to her feet. He stood over her, eyes searching hers, stroking the back of her hand gently with his thumb.
"May I?" he asked, very quiet, and she didn't trust her voice to answer him but just nodded.
This time the kiss started very soft, utterly unlike their brief encounter in the bookstore. Eric wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace, and Emmy let herself melt into him. Thank God she was still wearing her absurd heels, which brought her closer to his height and facilitated the whole "making out while standing up" procedure. She looped her arms around his neck, inhaled his scent between deep kisses — she could feel desire rising in her with every swipe of his tongue, every brush of his lips against hers.
She lost track of how long they stood there kissing, comparatively chaste, stroking each other's back and neck, fingers tangling in hair. The mood was dreamy, heady with the promise of something more, lust like a slow tide inching along, unstoppable. Emmy felt her nipples harden when his hands slid down her waist, cupping her ass and stroking the taut silk with his fingertips in a maddeningly sensual move, until she gave in and pressed her hips against him, the evidence of his arousal hard against her stomach.
When Eric nudged her towards the couch, though, she resisted — the memory of Jake was too fresh, and while they’d eventually ended up in her bed, it still seemed like more neutral terrain at this point. Also, she had no wish of repeating the absurd acrobatics involved in attempting sexual congress on a medium-sized couch with an outsized guy. At least her bed could accommodate six-feet plus of ridiculously hot man jumping her bones without breaking her back.
"Bedroom," she murmured when he looked at her questioningly, and she took the lead, Eric following her while he nuzzled her neck, hands wandering haphazardly across her body, raising goosebumps on her arms, her shoulders and down her sides through the thin silk. She was hot and cold all at once, her senses ramping into overdrive, and when she walked through the threshold of her bedroom and he spun her in his arms to face him, she let out a gasp.
"I want to see you," he said, holding her at arm's length. "I want to see every inch of you, Emmy, because you're so goddamned beautiful, and I can't quite believe this is happening."
Neither could she, for that matter, but since he was kissing her neck again — apparently he'd given up on looking in favor of tasting — she surrendered to the pleasure and closed her eyes, throwing her head back to allow him more access. He pressed kisses along her throat with fervor and a desperate intensity that echoed in the marrow of her bones.
Somewhere along the line, urgency crept into the proceedings and the gentle unhurried kissing of earlier turned more passionate, Eric's hands searching for the zipper at the back of her dress, eager to free her from her clothes. Emmy could give as good as she got, though, and she attacked his shirt, which turned out to be held together with studs — something she approved of in principle but which added