“Then I guess you’re stuck with me,” she told him lightly, stroking the silky strands of hair at the nape of his neck. This man deserved a happier experience, and she was determined to give it to him.
“You’re taking the truck,” he mumbled stubbornly.
“I’m putting up a Christmas tree,” she warned him. “And I’m baking cookies. You have to listen to Christmas music for a whole week.”
He grimaced slightly, but answered, “I don’t care. As long as you stay, and keep the truck, I’ll negotiate.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers.
Every nerve in Emily’s body was vibrating with need, and it was more than just physical. Grady was holding the majority of his weight from her body with his arms, but his muscular body was still plastered against hers from knees to chest, and she could feel the heavy, hard length of his cock pressing against her core. The heat of his body and the scent of his arousal surrounded her, and all she wanted was to melt against him and . . .
Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong.
The huge wall clock struck six o’clock, shaking Emily from her sensual thoughts. “Oh shit . . . the party!” She’d been so distracted that she’d completely forgotten that they needed to get to the party at the Center. She wriggled in earnest, knowing she was already late.
Grady sat up, looking like he was extremely reluctant to move. “What party?”
Emily hopped off the couch and to her feet. “The Christmas party at the Center is tonight. I told you I had to be at the annual Christmas party.”
“You’re not leaving me already?” Grady grumbled, coming to his feet.
“Of course not,” she answered excitedly. “You’re coming with me.”
“I hate parties,” he replied with a reluctant expression.
“You won’t hate this one,” she promised, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door. “Most of the town shows up.”
“I’m not dressed for a party,” he argued.
Emily eyed his jeans and tan cable-knit sweater that looked and felt very much like cashmere. He looked good enough to eat and she’d savor every bite. “It’s casual. You look gorgeous.”
He shot her a wicked grin that sent incendiary heat directly between her thighs.
Grady Sinclair was an unholy temptation no matter what he was wearing, and she had to tear her gaze away from his to even make it out the door.
Grady went to the party, unable to stop himself from following Emily wherever she led. The woman was like a Pied Piper who led him around by his swollen cock. But the moment they arrived at the YCOA, Emily had to circulate and do her job, so he headed straight for the patio. The guests for the party were already arriving and filling the recreation area of the Center. Wishing he hadn’t left his leather jacket at the door, he paced the small patio area to keep warm, reminding himself that he wasn’t a kid anymore.
I can do this. I need to do this. If being near Emily means I have to conquer my fears, then damn it, I will.
Striding determinedly toward the glass patio doors that he’d slipped out of earlier, he stepped inside and stopped abruptly, the music and noise hitting him instantly, and his gut started to roil with apprehension.
He could see Emily on the other side of the room, helping Santa pass out gifts to the crowd of children around a massive tree. Some of the adults were dancing on the wooden floor, swaying to a sappy old Christmas tune coming from a set of speakers near the dancing area. Grady suspected that this enormous space was probably a basketball court or a sports area for the kids when it wasn’t being used for a Christmas party. Honestly, he didn’t have time to look that closely because he was overcome with dizziness and nausea, the floor tilting, his vision blurred as he broke out in a nervous sweat.
Fuck! Not now. I can’t do this right now.
Grady’s hand grasped the frame of the door to steady himself, cursing his own weakness.
“Grady? Are you okay? Are you sick?” Emily had come over and was standing right in front of Grady.
“Hate parties,” he reminded her, his voice graveled and weak.
Emily cupped both sides of his head and tilted his gaze to her. He stared into her gorgeous blue eyes, his vision clearing as she said sternly, “Look at me. Don’t look anywhere else. Focus on me.”
Her concerned, compassionate, beautiful face turned the world upright again, and his hungry gaze looked at nothing but her. Suddenly, everything else faded, and there was nothing but Emily.
Walking backward, she took his hands and led him into the room, her eyes never leaving his. Grady didn’t even notice where she was taking him until she halted at the edge of dance floor.
“I need you to dance with me, Grady. I need you to touch me. Can you do that?” she asked in a sultry, fuck-me-right-now voice.
She needs me.
All Emily had to do was say that she needed him, and he snapped to attention. If she needed, he was going to provide. He wrapped his arms around her with a masculine sigh, his body relaxing as he felt her warm, curvy body mold itself against him, making everything right with the world. Closing his eyes, he inhaled against her temple, the silky strands of her hair caressing his cheek, her warm breath hitting his neck in comforting puffs of air.
“Emily,” he mumbled incoherently, every nuance that was uniquely her enfolding him as she wrapped her arms around him, stroking his upper back and the nape of his neck. There was no better feeling than holding this woman in his arms. The Christmas music was even louder here, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care about the crowd of people he didn’t know or what they were thinking. There was only Emily and the way she fit perfectly against his body.
She didn’t ask what was wrong; she just held on to him, clung to him, sinking into him like they’d been doing this forever, and Grady savored it. He moved to the rhythm of the music automatically, and Emily followed, the two of them lost in their own little world.
The songs changed, but they still danced, Emily finally tilting her head and whispering to him, “Okay now?”
Grady opened his eyes and looked around him. Some people were looking at him curiously, but mostly all he could see was people genuinely enjoying themselves. The kids were squealing over their presents, showing them off to one another. And the adults were laughing jovially and talking, gathered together in groups around the food tables. Somehow . . . he was able to see everything as an adult, and it was just . . . a party. It was a gathering of people who truly seemed to be having a great time in the company of people they actually liked. There wasn’t a designer gown or tuxedo anywhere in the room, and these were not the same people who had humiliated him in the past.