And she definitely didn’t like the idea of staying at Colin’s house, alone with him.
Her heart was beating too fast, and a tight ball had lodged in her stomach from the moment she’d realized where Colin was taking her.
What would happen? What did she want to happen?
"Why don’t you make yourself comfortable, Doc?" Colin inclined his head toward the couch. "I’ve got to go clean up." Then he was gone, disappearing down the hallway, quietly shutting a door behind him.
Emily frowned. The man had nearly ran from the room. Pretty much mid-argument. That was odd.
"Colin?" She stepped toward the hallway. The wooden floor creaked beneath her. "Colin, are you all right?" Now that she thought about it, there had been a tension on his face. And he’d looked the slightest bit pale.
He just fought off four men. It stands to reason the man would look pale and tense.
She crept forward. "Colin?"
A nagging worry filled her. What if he was hurt? Trying to hide his wounds?
She could hear the rush of running water. Emily paused next to a white door. The bathroom, she figured. She didn’t want to burst in if nothing were wrong, but…
Something isn’t right. Her instincts were on high alert. Her fingers curled around the doorknob. "Can you hear me?"
He jerked the door open. Stood gazing down at her, his chest bare, red water dripping from his fingers.
Red water. Blood. "Oh God, you’re hurt!"
Colin stepped back, shoved his hands under the pouring water that sprayed from the faucet.
"Colin?" She grabbed his arm. Felt his muscles tense. "Dammit, where are you hurt?"
His hands clenched beneath the water. "The blood’s not mine."
Not his? Emily yanked his hands up, stared at the now-glistening fingers. There wasn’t so much as a scratch on him.
She looked up, gazing into his eyes. He was close to her, so close that the warmth of his body surrounded her. Her eyes fell to his chest. Bare. Strong. Tight, with hard muscles. Covered with a light coating of midnight black hair.
Emily swallowed and realized that she was still holding his hands. Realized that her fingers had begun to stroke the back of his palms.
Realized that she wanted him.
Following Colin had been a mistake. "I–I should let you-" Do what? Finish stripping? The mental image that immediately flashed through her mind sent a wave of heat spiraling between her thighs. "Umm, I’ll wait in the den." She was definitely sex deprived. One look at a man’s chest and she was reduced to a stuttering mess.
Emily forced her hands to release his. The water still flowed behind her, and the sound seemed strangely loud in the small room.
She stepped to the side, intending to go, to collect her lost dignity as best she could.
"Don’t run from me, Doc."
"I–I’m not running." Just walking-okay, creeping-away from the half-naked man who was making her very, very nervous.
His hands lifted, curled around the frames of her glasses, then slowly lifted them off her.
Emily blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the sudden change. Colin stared down at her, and his eyes-they were filled with hunger.
For her.
"I’m not going to do it this time, Doc." He was staring at her lips now. Gazing at her with those hot, shining blue eyes.
Was it her imagination or were his eyes really, really bright right then?
His words registered after a heartbeat of time, and she didn’t understand. "Do what?"
His arms snaked out, caught her around the middle, and pulled her ever closer to his body. She was trapped now, caged between the bathroom sink and Colin’s equally hard body.
"Kiss you." He leaned forward, and his breath blew lightly against her. "I’m not going to kiss you. Unless you ask."
His lips were so close to hers. So close. But she hadn’t come into the bathroom for this, hadn’t followed him inside because she wanted him, had she?
"Come on, Doc. It won’t be as hard as you think." There was nowhere for her to go, but Emily still tried to stumble back. She slipped against the edge of the sink.
Colin caught her before she fell. Lifted her up, sat her on the cold, granite vanity. Her legs were spread, and he inched forward, pushing right between them. The thick length of his aroused flesh pressed against her. The hard muscles of his thighs seemed to burn Emily through her clothing. She squirmed against him, and instead of working herself free, she just rubbed against him, rubbed against that heavy arousal.
Her sex clenched as a wave of raw hunger rocked through her. No, this isn’t what I planned.
But it was exactly what she wanted.
"Do it." His voice was a rough rumble of temptation. His fingers were locked around her waist. She wanted him to lift his hands and cup her breasts. To push her shirt aside and take her nipples into his mouth.
"Ask for my kiss…" His breath blew against her lips.
She could already taste him. Her lips trembled, parted, and she heard herself whisper, "Kiss me." But she wasn’t asking. She was demanding.
For an instant, his lips curled in a satisfied smile, but then the hunger in his eyes flared even brighter. His fingers tightened around her.
And his lips claimed hers.
He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t cautious.
His lips took. His tongue probed, drove deep into her mouth. He tasted, seduced, claimed.
A growl sounded low in his throat. The sound was stark, animalistic. It should have scared her. He should have scared her.
But the sound just made her hotter. Made the liquid heat between her thighs pulse even more.
Her hands were wrapped around his arms, digging into the tight muscles of his biceps. Her mouth was open wide, her tongue rubbing, thrusting against his.
She loved the way he kissed her. Hard. Hot. Wild. Yes, most definitely wild.
He kissed her like he couldn’t wait to get her naked beneath him. Kissed her like he had to have her.
Kissed her like no other man ever had.
His fingers brushed against the underside of her breasts. They rose slowly, then his hands were cupping her, his thumbs brushing against her nipples.
His mouth continued to feed on hers. His fingers-long, strong fingers-stroked her breasts, teased the aching peaks of her nipples.
She tore her mouth from his, moaning softly. She was still sitting on the sink. Her legs were spread wide. His thick arousal pushed against her. Her fingers itched to touch him, to stroke him.
This isn’t like me. Emily fought to regain her control in the maelstrom of lust that was overwhelming her. She wasn’t one to be driven wild with passion. Not her. Never her.
She was the calm one, the controlled one, the six-dates-before-third-base one.
But there was something about Colin, something that was driving straight past her barriers.
"I want to feel you," he muttered, the words hard, nearly indistinct. He caught the hem of her shirt, jerked it up and over her head. Colin tossed the shirt onto the floor. She heard the soft swish as it hit the tiled floor.
He was touching her now. Skin to skin. His warm fingers, slightly rough, were smoothing up her abdomen, inching closer to her breasts.
A thin black bra covered her. Her breasts pushed against the silky fabric.
Colin licked his lips.
Emily knew she should stop him. The logical part of her mind was screaming at her to push him away.
Not the time. Not the time.
Things were moving too fast between them. But, God, she wanted him to touch her.
She wanted to let go of her control for just a moment. She wanted to feel.