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“I’ve learned that about you. But now there’s no other man in your way. Now you can be with who you want to be with. So what are you worried about?”
“Is it too soon?”
“Emmy…” He cupped her chin in his palm so she couldn’t look away. “As far as I’m concerned, it couldn’t be soon enough.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
What was she doing?
Tucker’s fingers caressed the sensitive skin along her jaw and followed the upward curve of her face until he was holding the back of her head, his hand buried in her hair.
He’d told her she could say stop whenever she wanted, but she didn’t want him to stop. She never wanted him to stop, and finally she could let him follow through without the guilt.
Tucker kissed her cheek softly, and she let out a little sigh. He paused for a moment, but when she made no other sound aside from the exhalation, he continued the task at hand.
His delicate kisses moved with practiced slowness from her cheek to the dip where her jaw met her neck, and there he gently licked her skin. The shocking warmth of his tongue on her made a thrill shoot through her, piercing her groin and taking her from mildly aroused to downright horny.
Emmy no longer wondered what she was doing. She wondered instead how she had gone this long without doing it.
She raised her palms to the front of his shirt and clasped two handfuls of the cotton into her fists, tugging him closer. Since he couldn’t physically come nearer to her with her legs in the way, she parted them and made room for his body between her thighs.
The heat of his skin was evident even through their two layers of clothes, and once his body was flush against hers, his kiss moved from her neck to her lips. He seized her mouth in such a way she momentarily questioned if he really was the nice guy he seemed, because no nice man should kiss with the owning, demanding power Tucker was using. The way his lips parted hers and his fingers clawed at her hair was needy and insistent, full of something far more primal than she’d expected from her mild-mannered pitcher.
She was intoxicated by it. Wanting her had made him this crazy, and she wanted to know how wild he could be.
/> Her mouth yielded to his kiss, lips opening so his tongue could meet hers, teasing, playfully nipping with his teeth, deepening the kiss each time she hesitated until she was sure she might melt into a puddle on his floor. He had a robust taste of dark coffee and something else that was masculine and entirely Tucker. She’d kissed him before, but never so much and so deeply. It was as though this embrace were an abyss and he was willing her to fall into it with him.
Releasing her hair, he braced one hand on either side of her against the counter and leaned into her so she was forced to bend backwards, the countertop meeting the small of her back.
“Tucker,” she mumbled when he pulled away briefly. She had no other intention, nothing specific to say, she just wanted to hear how his name sounded now that she had the taste of him all over her lips. Delicious. It all sounded delicious.
This time she closed the gap. Her hands still fisted in his shirt, she dragged him back down to her, reclaiming his mouth and returning the fevered passion with which he’d kissed her. He pushed closer, his crotch seated against hers and the rigid presence of his cock unmistakable along her inner thigh.
Emmy wanted to say his name again, as an invitation or a call to arms, but her tongue was too tied up with his to make time for words. He growled into her mouth when she arched her hips towards him, and in response she let a moan rumble in her throat.
She wasn’t going to say no, and if he was waiting for her to stop this, he had another thing coming. It had been months since she’d last had sex—yet another sign things with her and Simon had shifted gears into the platonic—and she’d been denying herself Tucker all that time.
To let him know what she was thinking, she pulled back abruptly from the kiss and looked him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed, and the skin around his mouth was red from their rough kisses. She was willing to bet his morning stubble had done a number on her skin, but she didn’t care. None of it mattered except for getting him out of his stupid pajama pants and getting them both back into those beautiful cotton sheets.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, trying to remember the last time a kiss had made her dizzy with need. To drive home her words, she let go of his shirt and grabbed his ass with both hands, tugging him so close they both gasped. “Yes.” This time there was a growl to the word.
“Okay.” He stepped back and pulled her to her feet so quickly she stumbled. But he was there, strong and sure, holding her to him. He smelled fabulous for someone who’d just woken up. Maybe they were a good pheromone match, but to Emmy he smelled like fresh pepper and cotton, and it was a glorious combination. He made her head swim with desire, and her usually too-busy brain was, for once, quiet and focused.
Tucker explored her body, running his hands over her T-shirt until he found the hem, then the first shock of real skin-to-skin contact sent Emmy reeling. His big hands were warm, and though his fingertips were rough and calloused from years of pitching, his touch was light and sensitive. Everywhere his fingers traveled a spark of electricity followed, igniting a desire within in her that had long lain dormant. When he lifted her shirt, she didn’t protest, although she’d never been disrobed in a kitchen before.
When her top was off, she didn’t feel any of the painful awareness of her body she had with other lovers. She’d often felt like she was being assessed and catalogued by other men. Great body, decent boobs. Or, short legs, too much ass.
With Tucker it was different. The way he gazed at her with her top off was so worshipful and adoring she didn’t think he was comparing her to anyone else. He was seeing her for who she was.
In that moment, any thoughts of might disappeared, and Emmy knew she loved him. She’d known, really, since the trip to Chicago. But seeing him look at her in the harsh morning light—with no makeup and terrible hair—and still be impressed…well, he must be crazy about her.
He touched her again, tentative at first, then greedy, exploring her exposed skin with his palms fanned wide. He tucked his fingertips into the waistband of her jeans, grazing the top of her ass and making her shudder with unrestrained excitement. With each new area he traversed, Emmy’s brain became cloudier, wondering how she’d resisted him for so long and how stupid she’d been to live without this in her life.
Withdrawing, he shifted his attention to her breasts, cupping each mound with a hand so large even her C cups looked small being held by them. He rubbed her peaked nipples through the sheer lace fabric of her bra, sending another shock wave directly to her core. No one had ever managed to get her so wet, so quickly, with most of her clothes still on. It was as if Tucker’s every ministration was attuned to her, and he knew the wants of her body better than she did.
The work they did together on the field had proven she understood the mechanics of his body, and she’d used that knowledge to make him a better pitcher. What could he do to her once he’d learned the finer details of her form? She was eager for him to know her that well, and yearned to know him better than she already did.
Tucker dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor, his tousled brown hair all she could see when his head settled between her breasts. He hugged her waist possessively with one arm, locking her to him, and with his other hand he lowered the cup of her bra. He teased her nipple with short, hot licks, drawing it into a tight, almost painful nub, and latched his mouth on to it.
