No. Questions. Asked.
As Gavin kissed her, he could taste the cherry sweetness of her lips, and he drank it in as if it was the finest of red wines. Her hands moved up his arms to the back of his neck, leaving a trail of fire against his skin. A thick shiver of pleasure rebounded around him, racing through his blood from the touch of her fingers intertwining themselves in his hair. A groan rumbled in his throat at the feel of her soft breasts against his chest. The scent of her skin and the feel of her curved body fitting perfectly in his arms sent him to a place he never knew existed. His fingers explored her wavy hair as their kiss deepened; it felt exactly how he figured it would, like pure fucking silk. Emily grabbed handfuls of his shirt as he walked her backward, pressing her against the wall and sweeping his tongue through her mouth. Gavin kissed her as if he’d done it a thousand times—as if she’d belonged to him. He kissed her the way he’d imagined he would from the moment he saw her—from the moment he knew he needed her.
“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned. His lips moved over her jaw as his hands smoothed down her waist. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before in my fucking life.”
Emily nearly melted at his words—her body pressing against his, straining for more, wanting more. Her head fell back as his mouth slid to the side of her neck, tracing the slope of her collarbone and pressing kisses against her flesh. When he slipped his hand under the hem of her dress and started caressing her hip, Emily’s heart nearly stopped. Goosebumps popped over her arms as she wrapped her leg around his waist, his hand cradling the back of her head and the other holding tight to her thigh. Waves of heat cascaded over her trembling body; each touch was a destructive whisper against her skin. The languid sweeping motion of his tongue trailed back to her mouth. Sucking in her lower lip, he swallowed her moans of pleasure as he held her closer. Her senses blanketed themselves in the smell, touch, taste, and glorious groans that came from Gavin.
Gavin Blake…Dillon’s friend—someone he had known and become close with. If Dillon found out—despite his wrongdoings to her—he would surely lose it. Suddenly, Emily was off balance, uncertain of what she was doing. The shimmering images of Dillon and their life together invaded her mind. This was bad, and she knew it. Two wrongs never computed to a right in her head—ever. A wave of guilt mixed with anger at Dillon and herself washed over her. Although her body fought against it—and fought against it hard—she had to stop.
“We…I can’t…Gavin,” she finally breathed, barely forcing the words past her lips.
Pulling back, his blue eyes dark and wavered with lust, Gavin searched her face. Her lips were swollen from their kiss, and her breathing was as ragged as his. Tears were filling her eyes, yet he saw passion there as well. His heart broke a thousand times over from the look on her face. He didn’t want to hurt her. He nodded slowly as his fingertips slid over her flushed cheeks before his hands dropped to his sides, taking her warmth with them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes.
“No, Emily, I—”
“Please, Gavin, just leave. I need you to leave,” she sniffed, still unable to look at his face.
The air prickled uneasily between them for a long moment. Gavin desperately tried to get his tongue unglued from the roof of his mouth and tried to say something—anything—that would fix the situation, but he couldn’t. The words—the right words—didn’t exist in his mind.
And this he knew.
Running a nervous hand through his hair, he turned away, reached for the door, and reluctantly made his way out.
Emily trembled as she hunched over in an attempt to catch her breath. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to block out the guilt, push it away, and purge it out of her system. Her complexion was drained of all color; her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying. Her stomach was curled around itself in disgust—not only from what she had just done, but also from the feeling that somewhere in the back of her mind…she knew it had felt right. God, it had felt so right kissing him, touching him, and letting him touch her. She buried her face in her hands and cried as the fresh waves of guilt crashed through every limb in her body.
Feeling mentally drained by it all, she walked over and collapsed herself onto the couch, trying to regain her composure as she wiped the tears from her face. A part of her felt like it was dying as vivid pictures of Dillon kissing Monica skirted through her head. Staring at the ceiling, Emily wondered if somehow she had deluded herself into thinking Dillon wasn’t cheating on her. Her instincts sent sparks throughout her mind from the past several weeks, but her gut wretched against listening to the warning sirens going off.
A sharp knock at the door roused her from the nightmare she had hoped she was awakening from. Before she could answer, the door swung open. Dillon was standing in the hall with her bags. Swallowing down the rising bile in her throat, she could feel the pulse in her stomach when she shot up from the couch. Closing the door behind him, his eyes met and locked with hers from across the room.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes glaring at him. “I want you to leave.”
“You have to let me explain.”
“Let you explain? You kissed her!” she scoffed, her eyes bulging.
“She kissed me,” he corrected.
“Bullshit! I want you out,” she yelled and pointed toward the door.
“You’re going to let me explain.” He walked across the room, bridging the distance between them.