Sweet Imperfection (11 page)

They stared at each other for a moment. “So the best friend and the girlfriend meet at last.”

Emma couldn’t help smiling at Cory’s serious tone. “We had econ together like three semesters in a row, Cory.”

“You know what I mean. Nate has never been happier since you and he worked things out, but I saw him when things weren’t so good, and let me just say he was practically worse than during his divorce. So just know I’m super happy for you two, but I’m sick of cleaning up when his love life goes to shit, so, please, tell me that’s not going to happen again.” Cory was as earnest as a puppy.

Emma’s expression softened. “You’re a good friend, Cory. And I’m glad you were there for him. I’m not going to hurt him. I love him.” Her heart beat sure with the truth that had been on the tip of her tongue for days.

“Yeah, I guess you do,” Cory said thoughtfully.

“You do?”

Emma whirled around. Nate stood in the doorway, his expression expectant, his arms wrapped around the file folder as if it were a security blanket.

“I do,” she said.

Wordlessly, Nate handed Cory the file then he replaced the space against his chest with Emma, wrapping her in the heat of his body, kissing her with certainty, passion, love.

Emma tipped up her head and gazed into her lover’s eyes. She saw everything she was hoping for. He cherished her, desired her, loved her, protected her, needed her. She saw the soul of a man she’d love for the rest of her life, a man with whom she’d have children and share life’s peaks and valleys. They’d make this house a home together. Nothing had ever seemed more right. She pressed her lips to Nate’s, sealing all her unspoken promises with a single kiss.

Cory cleared his throat. “Well, on that note, I’ll be going.”

Emma pulled away, but Nate kept his arm around her waist. She’d forgotten they had an audience.

“Thanks, man,” Nate said distractedly. “Let’s get together soon.”

“Yes, you, Emma, Lizzie, me, we’re doing brunch on Sunday. No arguments. We’re going to do it up with mimosas and omelets, so come hungry.” And then Cory was gone.

Nate barely noticed his friend closing the door behind him. The shift in the air had happened before when he’d overheard three words. “I love him.” The phrase was like a balm, soothing his heart, calming his mind. She loved him. The most incredible woman in the world loved
him
.

As they held each other and kissed, he knew he’d found his soul mate. He’d found the one person who ignited passion, lust, romance, wanting, need, all of those things he’d thought were unattainable or undeserved.

He drew her over to the staircase and sat down, pulling her into his lap. She smelled like herself, and it was more seductive than any perfume.

“You love me,” he said just to be sure.

She laughed. “I love you, Nate Hirsch. Is it really a surprise?”

“It’s not a surprise. It’s a gift. I hope you know I love you, too.”

“Now I do.” She kissed him softly. “I like hearing it.”

“You’ll be sick of hearing it,” Nate vowed.

“I doubt it.” She kissed him again, firmer this time. “I like Cory. He cares about you a lot.”

“He’s a good guy. You’ll like his wife, I think. She’s a tough cookie.”

“She’d have to be to keep Cory in line.”

Their kisses deepened. Nate forgot about their conversation, forgot about anything except how good it felt to be with her, their lives stretched out before them, two separate paths suddenly merged. Everything on that path seemed brighter now, full of hope.

“You’re the best woman I know,” he said. “The smartest, bravest, loveliest woman I’ll ever know.”

“I am?”

“And I’m going to show you right now how honored I am that you would choose to be with me. That you would choose to love me.”

Emma gazed at him, her mouth pink and open, her cheeks flushed, her hair tumbling out of its workday bun. She was delectable, and he wanted to worship her.

“How are you going to do that?”

“Like this.” He lifted her up and back down so she straddled him, her silky skirt riding up on her thighs, the warmth of her core meeting his throbbing erection. Kissing her always got him at least half hard, but having her pressed against his body made his cock stand at the ready.

She let out a little cry when instead of kissing her mouth, he started at her ear, kissing his way down the shell of flesh, sucking and nibbling on her tender earlobe, decorated only with a tiny gold stud. He wanted to take his time, to revel in every inch of her. From working with wood, he’d learned the value of self-control, of biding one’s time and building to the moment of glory. It took a lot of small, almost invisible steps to get from a piece of raw wood to a useful, beautiful object.

Emma’s body was like that. He wanted to explore it, to use his sense of touch to feel out her sensitive spots, the knots he could work around or with, to drive her crazy. His hands moved to her shoulders, stroking them lightly, kneading the muscles underneath intermittently. He tried not to be distracted by the way her hands roamed his bare chest and her fingernails ran over the responsive flesh of his nipples then feathered across the hair on his belly to dip beneath the waistband of his jeans.

It was delicious torture, but he forced himself to concentrate. Her body was soft and pliant, and she gave herself to him so readily, it made him want to take her in one big bite. But, no, he pulled back, slid his hands under her top, skimming her waist, caressing, not grabbing, her sinfully supple breasts through her bra. She shuddered when he grazed her nipples lightly then left them to move to her thighs, rubbing the firm flesh there in short strokes. He let himself travel farther toward the wet heat he could smell and practically taste. He barely touched her through her panties, but she stiffened and clutched at his shoulders. The lacy fabric was soaked, and he wondered if she’d be mad if he just ripped them from her body. There would be other opportunities for that. This time was about her, about showing how much he loved her by taking his time and making her feel cherished. He pressed against the nub of flesh at the top of her mound, and she stiffened again. Her mouth was on his ear.

“Nate, I swear if you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to scream.”

He smiled. It must be working. He was breathing hard, trying to keep from doing exactly what she asked. He leaned back against the stairs, and the molding bit into his kidneys, keeping him determined.

“Soon,” he promised. He kissed her mouth again, intending to keep it slow and steady, but Emma was done letting him lead. She attacked his mouth in return, her tongue spearing nearly into his throat, teeth grazing his lips. Was that a growl emanating from deep within her chest? Or maybe it came from his chest. He couldn’t tell. He was helpless, his planned, careful seduction set aside as the woman astride him took control. He let her have her way, her hands unerringly freeing his cock from his jeans and his boxers. He hadn’t even noticed her unbuckling his tool belt or unbuttoning his pants. She shucked her top and lifted her skirt, still straddling him, so it bunched around her waist and he could see the dark triangle of hair through her sheer lace panties.

“Tear them off,” she said, panting. Nate didn’t have to be told twice. He rent the flimsy fabric in half then gasped as Emma lowered herself onto his cock, impaling herself in one swift move.

“Fuck me.”

Nate groaned and began arching upward into her while she bounced up and down. The combination of both of them careening toward each other with strong thrusts resulted in a satisfying slapping sound of flesh against flesh and the incredible sensation of her slick skin sliding along his steel-hard erection.

He was lost with her on top of him, driving him forward inexorably to a too-soon finish. But he couldn’t stop, and she didn’t seem to want him to. She rose and fell above him, a part of him. His gaze was unashamedly glued to the erotic sight of her breasts bouncing tantalizingly in her bra.

“Emma.” He warned her of his impending orgasm with a strained groan.

“Yes,” she called. “Nate, yes. I love you.”

“I love you,” he said in return, the words pushing him over the edge.

He had the vague notion that she was crying out her orgasm while his ripped through him like an explosion of heat, light, and infinite pleasure. She collapsed onto him, her breathing ragged, her mouth kissing him randomly on his chest, his cheek.

Somehow they were both covered in sawdust, the tiny specks of wood sticking to their sweaty skin. Emma was flushed and grinning, and Nate felt a matching grin cover his own face. He moved them off the step, to the floor, which was at least flat if not particularly clean. When he could move again, in about six hours, he’d carry her up the stairs, and they could take a bath together in her old-fashioned clawfoot tub.

When their breathing slowed, and the dust had literally cleared, Emma spoke, her voice throaty as if on the verge of sleep. “We got interrupted before. Your fees. For the house. How much?”

“My fees are very reasonable. Let’s say a kiss for every nail.”

“That could add up fast.”

“Then you better get started on the down payment.”

So she did.

Hello! Thank you for picking up
Sweet Imperfection
. College reunions can be super stressful or deliriously fun, but they are also opportunities for second chances. That’s what Emma and Nate get when they run into each other at their ten-year college reunion. Even though they were never more than friends in college, neither has forgotten the other in the intervening years. Life has taken them in different directions, but fate has brought them back together, as they not only renew their friendship but rekindle a long-ignored attraction. It remains to be seen whether the nostalgia for their college days will simply lead to a red-hot weekend or something more…perhaps a deeper connection that will keep them together through their next reunion, and beyond.

If this is your first visit to Weston University, welcome! If you’ve read
Passionate History
, which takes place over the same reunion/commencement weekend at Weston, then I hope you enjoy seeing a new (but sexier than ever) side to campus.

Have you ever gotten a second chance at a great love (or even just great sex)? I want to hear all the juicy details. Email me at
[email protected]

Cheers!

Libby

Also from Decadent Publishing

www.decadentpublishing.com

Chapter One

Graduation couldn’t come soon enough for Aidan Worthy. Not his own—years ago now—but in a few hours, several hundred Weston University students would climb the dais and get their diplomas. He was anxious for the campus to quiet down after the hectic last days of finals and senior week. He would finally be able to focus on his book, a new interpretation of the works of Giorgio Vasari, the father of art history. He’d worked incredibly hard to get hired at Weston the year before, but he had to publish to get tenure, and he intended to live out his career teaching and writing about his one and only love, Italian Renaissance art, on the picturesque New England campus.

He had spent most of the semester preparing for a last-minute addition to his teaching schedule. A brand-new associate professor wouldn’t even be teaching a senior seminar—except the department chair, Clarissa Woodlawn, had needed to take an unexpected leave of absence and he’d been the only professor available to cover her class. He looked forward to the two-hour seminar every week. He enjoyed engaging the bright minds of the dozen art history majors, though to be honest, he most enjoyed engaging one mind in particular: that of Bree Ross.

Bree was smart and witty and didn’t hesitate to disagree with her classmates or with the accepted viewpoint on a given topic. Her contrary nature, when it came to the status quo of art history, had spurred his own thinking in new directions, and he loved the intellectual challenge. He looked forward to her thoughtful, sometimes provocative comments. But he also looked forward to her face, her strong features and luxuriant auburn hair, the way she carried herself, the way only a beautiful young person could get away with, lithe as a dancer, un-self-conscious about showing off skin. Show it off she did. As the spring weather grew warmer, Bree seemed to come to class wearing less clothing each week. By May, she’d show up in shorts and a tank top that would have been considered skimpy even if she were doing Bikram yoga. But Weston was a progressive place where people wore all manner of things. He normally didn’t notice his students’ clothing. Only Bree’s. He noticed everything about her.

She was confident, but not cocky. She always had plenty of self-deprecating humor to blunt the forcefulness of her arguments. He liked her. He told himself any hot-blooded man would like her, would notice her. He was definitely hot blooded, and, at twenty-eight, one of the youngest professors on campus. He wasn’t crazy to find her desirable, but it was inconvenient. He would never act on his feelings, so he had to live with the constant thrum of attraction he felt for her. He certainly never entertained the idea she could be interested in him.