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Authors: Nancy Warren

Bayou Bad Boys (8 page)

BOOK: Bayou Bad Boys
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What was it about Gabe that had her telling him things she'd never told anyone but Roxi. Couldn't she just keep her mouth shut? Apparently not. She kept pointing out her flaws. Her big butt, her lack of sexual expertise, next she'd be telling him about the D she'd gotten in high school geometry and the bad perm that had caused her hair to break off at the roots two days before her wedding.
A rich, deep, sexy laugh exploded from him. “Emma, darlin', if you were any better at the how-to part, I'd be laid out on a slab down at Dupree's funeral parlor after dying from havin' my head blown off by that last climax.”
She thought about the way he'd shouted her name as he'd come with a force that had driven her deep into the mattress and decided that even Gabe wasn't that good an actor.
“It was good, wasn't it?” she murmured.
“Better than good. It was gold-medal, world-class sex, and if I were a more generous man, I'd drive myself up to that prison and thank your dickless ex-husband for not bein' man enough to handle a woman of your vast sexual needs.”
She might have laughed. Or argued. But for some reason, the hot and hungry way he was looking at her made her almost believe him.
“It was a good thing, in a way,” she said, taking another sip of the chicory flavored coffee. “I'd gotten complacent, working as a bookkeeper down at Nate's construction company. I'd thought about opening my own business for a long time, but Richard didn't believe two careers were good for a marriage.”
“Sounds like the guy was intimidated by strong, confident, sexual women.”
“That's the same thing Roxi said.”
“You should listen to your friend, you.”
“Well, once he left—taking our joint bank account with him—I decided to open Every Body's Beautiful. We began as pretty much a typical fluff and buff operation, then I started expanding services. One of our most popular packages is the Rose Body Booster. It's an aromatherapy treatment that includes a rose petal massage. We get a lot of requests for that at Valentine's Day and Mother's Day. And just last week we did an entire bachelorette party.”
Gabe tilted his chair back on its rear legs. “Maybe I'll sign up for one while I'm here. Just the idea of getting naked and having you rub rose petals all over my body makes me hot . . . But you know what makes me even hotter?”
Emma was already turned on by the mental vision of herself straddling his hips, crushing the scent of rose petals against his oiled, muscular back. The naked hunger in those sultry dark eyes had her breath catching in her lungs, and heat dampening the crotch of those panties he hadn't wanted her to put back on.
She swallowed. “What?”
“The idea of me rubbing those rose petals all over your luscious body.” His eyes drifted from hers, to her lips, then lower, lingering on her breasts. “Everywhere.” The molten heat in his gaze had an answering warmth uncurling deep inside her.
“Do you have any idea what it does to me, when you look at me that way,
chère
?” he murmured, leaning closer, until his lips were just a breath away from hers.
Unable to respond, Emma shook her head.
“It makes me want things.” He brushed his knuckles around her jaw. Up her cheek. “Hot things.” His fingers slid into her hair “Pelvis-grinding, dirty, blow-your-mind things.”
The fingers of his other hand circled her wrist and he pressed her palm against the front of his jeans, where his swollen sex backed up his claim. Then he stood up, pulling her with him, his strong hands cupping her bottom, his pelvis grinding, just as he'd promised, against hers.
“Unfasten me,” he said against her mouth as his hands delved beneath the T-shirt and cupped her breasts.
The top button was already unfastened. He was gloriously naked beneath the jeans. Emma unfastened two more metal buttons, exposing the ebony hair that continued from his chest to his groin.
Anticipation curled hotly between her thighs as she finished with the last two buttons, then, feeling a great deal like the captured woman in
The Last Pirate
, Emma knelt on the hard, heart-of-pine floor and slowly drew the jeans down over Gabe's lean male hips.
Then she sat back on her heels, devouring him with her eyes. Until this moment, Emma had not realized how beautiful the male penis could be.
“Touch me.” His voice was thick with need.
“
Mais,
yes,” Emma borrowed a bit of his Cajun French which, to her ear, sounded sexier.
Gabe bucked his hips forward, into her touch as she explored the satiny length. Holding her rioting hair back with one hand, so he could better view the action, she stroked his erection from base to knobbed tip.
A tiny drop of moisture gleamed like a pearl in the plump cleft. Leaning forward, Emma gathered it in with a swirl of her tongue.
He swelled in her hand. A groan, somewhere between a curse and a prayer, was ripped from his chest when she took the sleek silk into her mouth. Loving him with her tongue, Emma reveled at the power thrusting between her parted lips.
“Not that way.” He grabbed her hair, urging her back to her feet. “Not this time.”
His hand delved beneath the black T-shirt, tearing away her panties as if they were made of tissue paper.
“I'll replace them,” he growled against her mouth as he plunged his fingers deep inside her.
“They're not important.” She gripped his shoulders and sagged against the hard wall of his chest and she was rocked by a sudden, molten wave of pleasure. “Oh, God, what are you doing to me?”
“I'm taking you.” Balancing her on one knee, he swept the coffee mugs off the table, and laid her on her back and pressed his palms against her inner thighs, spreading her legs apart on the pine planks. “And you're going to love it.”
Eleven
The kitchen was compact enough for him to keep one hand on her mound while grabbing the pair of wooden handled shears stuck in a wooden knife block. After using the shears to snip the hem of the shirt, he tossed them aside and ripped it open.
He was standing over her, looking down at her with the dark, hungry eyes of a conqueror.
“Christ, you've got some amazing body,
chère.
”
He cupped her breasts, then bent his head to scrape his teeth against a straining nipple.
Emma couldn't hold back the moan his caressing touch dragged from her throat as he rolled the turgid peak between his thumb and forefinger; nor could she stop her body from arching upward, offering his wickedly clever hands and mouth better access.
“You are so beautiful.” His words vibrated against her burning hot skin as his mouth moved down her torso.
His caresses continued their treacherous trail downward, over the swell of her stomach, down her inner thighs, his fingers kneading the flesh that made swimsuit shopping such an exercise in masochism.
“Your skin's so white.” His voice was rough as an oyster shell road. “Like magnolia petals.”
Even more amazing than the fact that he could make her want him with a single hot look or a lingering touch, was that where she saw stretch marks and cellulite, Gabe saw flowers.
“I've been wanting to do this all during supper.”
Grabbing a condom from the box he'd brought into the kitchen earlier, he sheathed himself, then, planting his long bare feet far apart, rubbed the latex-covered tip against the swollen lips of her labia, stroking in long, wet glides, teasing the tender flesh, while refusing to enter her until she was gasping, thighs quivering, heart hammering, begging him. “Please, Gabe. Oh, God, please, take me, now.”
“I thought you'd never ask,” he said with a satisfied chuckle against her mouth.
Emma could taste herself on his lips as he gave her a long, slow soul kiss that had white-hot stars wheeling behind her closed eyes. Then—thank you, God, finally!—he slipped into her, as smoothly as if they'd been created to fit together in just this way.
“
Dieu,
I love the way your body feels against mine.” He moved his hips, sinking deeper. “All soft and welcoming.” Then deeper still. “Ah,” he breathed as his entire length was surrounded and they were fully joined. “That's so good.”
Her senses swam. Her mind shut down.
Gabe laced his fingers with hers, moving their joined hands up, on either side of her head. “I wish I could stay inside you forever.”
He began to move, slowly at first. Tenderly. Then faster and faster, hot flesh slapping against hot flesh as Emma scissored her legs around him, lifting her hips with each down-stroke, meeting him thrust for thrust as they both raced over that dark edge together.
 
Colors—fading from the red of a bursting star to rose to a cooling pinkish blue—floated peacefully in her mind. Gabe's mouth was against her throat. Their breathing, still in unison, gradually slowed. He lifted his head, combed the wet hair from her face. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of you,” he murmured, seeming, Emma thought, a bit surprised at the notion.
She smiled at that, even though she knew it was only the pleasure of the moment speaking. What she and Gabe had shared was wonderful. Better than wonderful, it was the most exquisite thing she'd ever known.
But the man who was sprawled lazily on top of her like a satiated lion, had broken her heart once before. And would again, if she didn't guard her heart more carefully this time.
“Wait here,” he said. “I'll be right back.”
As if she were capable of moving. Every bone in Emma's body seemed to have turned to water. “Where are you going?”
“I promised to replace those panties.”
She leaned up on her elbows. “You're not driving back into town? The stores will all be closed by now.”
“I'm not going to the store.” He opened the refrigerator and took out a tall red can. “I'm gonna give you a pair of whipped cream underpants,
chère.
” He winked. “Then I'm going to eat them off you.”
Impossibly, sexual tension sparked again, tightening muscles that had gone lax. “Is there enough whipped cream in that can for both of us to have dessert?”
He grinned. “I gua-ran-tee it.”
 
It was dark when Gabe felt Emma slipping out of the bed. If he were the kind of man who kissed and told, which he wasn't, he would have thanked Nate for having bought that whipped cream.
Mon Dieu
, how he'd enjoyed spraying it onto her lush, rounded body. Enjoyed even more licking it off her.
And if she were worried about calories, she definitely hadn't shown it, as she'd done the same thing to him.
Which had, of course, left them so messy, they'd been forced to take a shower. Amazingly, he'd taken her yet again, up against the tile wall. He hadn't felt so horny, or been able to recover so quickly between rounds, since his high school days.
If only he'd known how hot the soft, sweet-smelling Emma Quinlan was back then. He'd gotten a hint of the passion she kept banked beneath that shy, wallflower exterior on graduation night.
Would things have changed if he'd just given into his rebellious body's demands and taken her virginity? Would his life have turned out differently? Would hers?
Gabe had never been one to lie. Not even to himself. Especially to himself. The truth was, he probably wouldn't have appreciated her then. He might have even ended up hurting her more than that son-of-a-bitch embezzler she'd made the mistake of marrying.
Although he'd never believed in destiny, the past hours with Emma had Gabe wondering if perhaps there was some unseen force working here, some fate, that had led them down separate, individual paths, only to bring them back together once they were older, wiser, and even more hot for one another.
Whatever the reason, Gabe was determined to make up for lost time. The problem was, he considered, as he heard her rustling around in the dark, gathering up her scattered clothing, Emma didn't seem to be on the same page.
The door's hinges squeaked as she opened it. Gabe could feel her tense, like a deer fearing a predator's approach.
He could stop her. He was, after all, larger. Stronger. Not that he'd have to use force. Because it would only take a slow kiss, a lingering touch, a hand to that slick hot place between her legs, to have her back in his bed.
Gabe was still weighing his options when he heard the engine turn over. Heaving a weary sigh, he climbed out of bed, flipped open the cell phone and called his best friend.
“Hey, Nate,” he said, when the sleep-husky voice on the other end of the line answered. “I need another favor. Yeah, everything went jus' fine. But Emma's on her way back to town from the swamp and I hate the idea of her driving through the bayou alone in the dark. Could your pretty sheriff wife send a deputy out to meet her on the highway and follow her home? Then let me know she got there okay? Thanks,
cher.
”
That little matter taken care of, Gabe pulled on a pair of boxers, and went into the kitchen to await the call letting him know that his
'tite chatte
had made it home safe and sound.
“If she thinks we're finished,” he said, as the coffee dripped into the pot, “the lady has another think coming.”
Having come to a crossroads in his life, Gabe wasn't entirely sure where his future was headed. But he knew damn well that Emma was going to play a starring role.
“I gua-ran-tee it.”
BOOK: Bayou Bad Boys
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