Take a Chance on Me (74 page)

Then she felt his hands travel up under the back of her sundress and toward the front of her body, where his palms spread wide over her bare breasts and he growled—there was no other word for it—he growled into her mouth as he drew big circles over her nipples with the flat of his palms, then pinched, rolled, until they stung with need.

Her lungs began to burn. Her toes began to curl. It was the beginning of the end.

"You want me right here, right now, don't you?" Thomas had freed his mouth from hers long enough to gasp into her ear. "Tell me what you want, Emma. I'll do it."

It occurred to her that unless something seriously huge happened in the next few seconds—on the scale of earthquake, fire, flood, or asteroid impact—she was about to drag Thomas Tobin to the barn, where she'd tell him exactly what she wanted and expect to get it. Big time.

Then she had the oddest sensation that they weren't alone.

She stopped her gyrations. She stilled her hands. "Stop," she whispered to him. "Please. God. No."

Emma eased away from Thomas's body and turned her head.

Leelee stood behind the screen door, framed in the hall light, her face wracked with horror and rage. A small cry escaped her mouth. Then she whipped around, her summer nightgown swinging at her shins, and raced up the stairs.

"Oh, shit!" Emma extricated herself from Thomas's grasp and stood on the porch, hugging herself, then hiding her face. After a few gulps of air she looked back at Thomas, still on the railing, somewhat hunched over and gasping for breath.

What had she done?

"I've got to go to her." Emma could feel the heat flying off the surface of her skin into the evening air.

She was coming down from her high, away from the edge. She was seeing things the way a mature adult woman responsible for a child should see them, not some sex-crazed maniac.

Thomas was experiencing a slowdown of his own, but he also felt in shock—not just from the sudden loss of her heat and passion—but from the otherworldly power in just that one taste of Emma Jenkins.

He'd been right—this was going to work out. It had to. Because nothing in his life had ever felt that real, and suddenly Thomas felt compelled to claim her, mark her for his own so that no other man in the world could ever touch her.

All from just one kiss.

"Emma, I—"

"I know," she snapped. "You are absolutely right."

Thomas frowned and eased down off the railing. "I didn't even say anything." He took a careful step toward her.

She straight-armed him in the chest. "Yeah, but you were going to say it was a mistake, and I completely agree. I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Dammit, I was not going to say that!" Thomas grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled it to his lips.

"Emma. That was not a mistake." He kissed her little clenched fist and made eye contact. In a soothing voice he said, "Baby, that was a lot of things—wild, surprising, amazing—but a mistake it wasn't."

"Okay. No. Wait. I can't talk with you about this because I've got to go to Leelee. Do you understand? I have to go to her—now. She's the most important thing in the world to me."

The instant Emma withdrew her hand from his grasp her knees gave out. She started to fall, but Thomas caught her in his arms.

"No!" Emma went rigid and twisted away toward the door. "Oh God—I've screwed up so bad." She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Leelee's in there! My dad's in there! And I'm out here behaving like a—" She let out a frustrated groan. "We should forget this ever happened. I'll help you with Hairy, but this—whatever this thing is between us—it's just not the right time for me. Good night."

"Stop right there." Thomas spun her around, and before she could protest, he put his mouth on hers again, calming, stroking, sealing the understanding between them.

"There are no mistakes between us, Emma." He kissed her forehead. "Take care of Leelee. We'll talk tomorrow."

She was already gone. The screen made a sharp crack when it closed, followed by the deep thud of the old oak panel door and the slide of the dead bolt.

Thomas stood on the porch, still erect, still in shock, still trying to get his bearings. He felt a soft brush against his ankle, and saw Hairy gazing up at him.

Thomas let go with a sharp laugh. "That sure sucks, doesn't it, pal?"

No kidding, Big Alpha. What are we going to do now?