Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“Don’t apologize.” I liked that Emmett was protective in a caring, gentle way. His protectiveness wasn’t the big bad alpha, almost bullying care of Lance. This was the kind that made your knees weak just a little bit.
“It’s not a bad thing to love your mother and want better for her, even if she doesn’t want that for herself.”
“Makes me a fool,” he growled.
“It makes you a good son and an even better human.”
He didn’t look convinced, and I took a step closer, putting a hand on his shoulder, so strong and muscular. And tempting.
Emmett looked up with heat in his eyes and my lips started to tingle. He stood and stared deep into my eyes, and my whole body lit up with a feeling I thought I’d lost forever. Desire. Big strong hands were on my hips in an instant, sliding down my back and up to the curve of my breast, gentle and intense and hungry at all once.
A sharp gasp escaped, surprising us both, but Emmett just smiled and then his mouth was on mine, devouring every inch as if he just couldn’t get enough of me. It was intoxicating considering I hadn’t had a proper orgasm since learning about Lance.
The kiss started out like a soft flickering flame, igniting heat all over my body, but soon enough Emmett took control, grasping my jaws and tilting my head so he could taste the depths of my mouth, making sure no spot was neglected.
The intensity of the kiss shocked me as much as my own response to the kiss. It was so at odds with the gentle man I knew him to be, but I wanted the intensity. Hell, I liked the intensity. It made me feel wanted and desired. Lusted after.
Before my brain could take over, I flung my arms around his wide shoulders and pressed my body up against his, squealing in surprise when Emmett dropped back down into the chair and brought me with him.
I nestled on his lap, so I had no doubt he was turned on, too. He growled as the heat of my thighs cradled his denim-clad cock, and my body suddenly had a mind of its own, grinding back and forth over the impressive length. The impressive and hard length.
Emmett gripped my ass and helped, dragging me back and forth across his cock as my breathing sped up and my hips moved faster and faster. My body was close to that feeling I hadn’t felt in too damn long and it would be at the hands, well the cock, of the wrong man.
That thought brought me up short, and I pulled back immediately, fingertips brushing over my kiss-swollen lips as I looked down at Emmett, feeling guilty. And aroused. And yeah, a bit angry too.
“Shit,” I muttered.
His dark brows rose in surprise as his big hands slowed their movements to gentle caresses. “Should I apologize?”
“No,” I sighed breathlessly. I felt guilty, but it was my own shit. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
He nodded, his eyes focused completely on mine, in search of any doubt. “Should I leave?”
“No,” I told him, finally finding the strength in my voice. “But I think maybe we should just get back to dinner?”
Emmett nodded and flashed a sincere smile. “Sounds good. Smells too good to go to waste. Need some help?”
He was such a good man on top of being strong and hot as fuck. How unfair was it that I met him when I was clearly not ready to move on from Lance? How unfair was it that the closest I’d come to physical release, physical satisfaction since becoming a widow was at the hands of another?
“Vanessa?”
I blinked and finally removed myself from his lap with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. Everything is just about done but maybe you can distract me with a story?”
“How about I tell you the story of how I accidentally ordered a snake sandwich on leave in Indonesia?”
“Eww. Bet that was a surprise.”
Emmett flashed a smile and told me all about ordering what he thought was a regular burger only to find a coiled up piece of meat on his bun. It was a funny story and the perfect distraction that allowed us to get back on track and enjoy a nice meal.
“It wasn’t half bad actually,” he said, laughing, “but I wouldn’t order it again.”
He told me a few more stories about his time in service, but unlike Lance’s stories, these were all tales of men being men, fooling around, and giving each other a hard time about the small stuff. He enjoyed his buddies, it seemed, more than the action. Another stark contrast to Lance. And that thought made me feel guilty. I couldn’t compare the two men; they were different people with different personalities. The only similarity was that they had both served.