Текст книги "Pulse"

Автор книги: Gail McHugh

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 26 страниц) [доступный отрывок для чтения: 10 страниц]

The setting Caribbean sun cast low shadows against mosaic tiles lining a small outdoor bar on the beach. Sitting on the southernmost tip of 5th Avenue, Gavin knew the place well and frequented it each time he visited the area. Smoke lazily wended up from a fiery grill, the drifting aroma of shrimp tacos and tamales filled the air. With warm winds kicking up, Gavin’s broken heart raced in rhythm with the waves crashing against the sand as he took in the sights and sounds around him.

Steel drums playing down the beach hummed through his ears as vacationers finished up a game of volleyball on the hot sand. Women with bodies to die for slapped layer upon layer of suntan lotion across their surgically-enhanced breasts. A toddler skipped into the turquoise water, and his father ran after him. Eventually picking him up, he spun the child around. The little boy let out a gut-belly laugh, his head undoubtedly dizzy. The corners of Gavin’s mouth turned up a small smile while he watched them play. The man scurried out of the water, his son tucked tightly under his arm, and set the little boy on the sand next to his mother, abruptly interrupting her few peaceful moments.

Gavin couldn’t help but feel a deep pang of longing as he watched the middle-aged man crouch down next to his wife. A grin on his face, he pulled his fair-skinned love into his arms and planted a kiss onto her lips. With adrenaline-spiked clarity, the memory of embracing Emily rushed through Gavin’s thoughts. Reaching for his bourbon on the rocks, rocks melted from the heat, he forced his gaze away from the couple.

“Señor Blake.” Gavin lifted his eyes and saw one of the cabana boys he’d come to know well over the years approaching with another bourbon. Placing the drink down in front of Gavin, Miguel wiggled his brows. “This, señor, is from the beautiful señorita.” He craned his head toward a woman seated alone at the bar.

Gavin stole a sideways glance in her direction. Crossing her long legs under a short, silk sundress, the woman aimed a coy smile at Gavin and sipped her piña colada. Her lips lingered on the straw as she gazed at him intently.

Gavin simply nodded to thank her. He returned his attention to the young Mexican worker, fished his wallet from his back pocket, and handed the man a tip. “Thank you, Miguel. Go ahead and get her another round on me.” Leaning back, he draped his arm across the chair next to him. “How’s Maria and the little one doing?”

“Oh, they’re doing wonderful, Señor Blake,” he answered, the joy in his voice reaching his eyes. “We trying to teach him to play football.” The young man smiled and swiped Gavin’s empty glass from the table. “Well, you Americans call it soccer. We hope to see him play for… what do you call it? The Olympia?”

Gavin let out a light chuckle. “The Olympics.”

Smiling, Miguel tossed a dishrag over his shoulder. “Yes. The Olympics. Then, he make me and my family have as much dinero as you one day. Much happiness comes with that. Si?”

Gavin picked up his new glass and swirled the liquid, the fresh ice clinking against the sides. He cast a weary smile at Miguel, his tone void of any emotion as visions of Emily plowed through his senses. “Right. Money brings much happiness, Miguel.”

Miguel grinned and turned away, leaving demons of despair to torture Gavin. Buried just beneath the surface, a nearly insufferable pain latched onto his heart. Unwelcomed, flashes of Emily’s auburn hair tickling his face ran rampant through his mind. No longer in his grasp, the thought sucked the last vestiges of feeling from Gavin’s soul. As the mix of emotions ebbed with every unsteady breath he took, his pain gave way to anger. But try as he might, Gavin couldn’t escape her. Need for her tensed every muscle in his body as memories of them together clouded his thoughts, tripping and tumbling over each other.

With a wall of unease settling around him, Gavin lifted his head. His gaze caught the attention of the woman who’d sent him a drink. Her features were pleasant enough. Rich, wavy, shoulder-length red hair fell easily over the straps of her sundress. Gavin flicked his eyes across her slender physique as she stared at him, a timid grin taking over her mouth. Though he didn’t consider her a woman who would stick out in a crowd, her eyes and smile lit up her face, and Gavin found it hard to look away. He watched as she gracefully slid from the barstool.

She grabbed her drink, a clutch, and started making her way toward him. Eyes locked on hers, Gavin swallowed and listened to her heeled sandals clicking against the wooden deck. Before she closed their distance, the woman came to a stop. She tilted her head and studied his face as if asking if it was okay to join him. Gavin found her trepidation appealing. With a reluctant nod, he motioned to the seat across from him.

Smiling, she continued her pursuit and stepped down from the deck onto the patio lining the beach. As she pulled out a chair, she placed her drink and clutch onto the table, her hair blowing across her face with the warm breeze. When she brought her hand up to tuck the strands behind her ear, Gavin noticed her green eyes, their shade hauntingly familiar. Emotions swept over him as his mind desperately fought against thoughts of Emily.

“I can spot a man with a broken heart from a mile way,” the woman purred, sinking into the seat. She crossed her legs and took a long sip from her frozen beverage. She subtly leaned across the table. A seductive smile tipped the corner of her glossed lips, her gaze falling from Gavin’s face to his chest. After roaming over his upper body, she brought her eyes back to his. “What can I do to remedy this problem for you, Mr.…?”

Gavin leaned back and shook his head. “Not as shy as you appear,” he mumbled, reaching for his drink. “They do say looks can be deceiving. But it’s all good. I’m not as shy as I may appear.” Gavin chugged the rest of his drink, set his glass on the table, and flicked it with his thumb and middle finger. Its condensation allowed it to slide smoothly across the glass top, clinking against an ashtray. He rested his elbows on the table, smirked, and tented his fingers under his chin. “You want to remedy my problem? I’m intrigued, Miss…?”

The unnamed woman bit her lip and mimicked his pose. “One: I’m very happy you’re intrigued. That was my sole purpose in coming over here. I enjoy it when a man finds me intriguing. Two: No, I’m not as shy as I appear, honey. Far from it. Three: I never said you looked shy. Nothing about you screams shy, and for me, that’s a good thing.” She uncrossed her legs, slipped her heel off her right foot, and reached down to massage it. With the tilt of his head, Gavin watched soberly as she slowly ran her blood red nails from the bottom of her foot up to her calf. Repositioning herself in her chair, she tucked her shoeless foot under her ass and smiled. “Four: Yes, I’d like to remedy your problem in whatever way you see fit. I’m going through a tough time myself, so it’ll benefit us both. And, five: You never gave me your name, so why should I give you mine? It’s apparent I’m slightly older than you, so you really should respect your elders. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr.…?”

Without moving, a grin pulled at the side of Gavin’s mouth. “Gavin Blake.”

“Ahh, well then, Mr. Blake, whose heart has clearly been hurt, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Miss Layton, but you can call me Jessica.” Staring into his eyes, she reached across the table, offering Gavin her hand. He took it and felt her fingers draw small circles on his palm. She hesitantly pulled back and pushed her breasts together. “So, who was she and why on earth would she break the heart of a man who looks as enticing as you do?”

With a nerve hit, Gavin cleared his throat and glanced past Jessica. He raised his hand for Miguel to bring them another round. He rolled his neck, leaned back, and tucked his hands into the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts. Face impassive and eyes pinned on hers, he cocked his head to the side. “Let me clarify a few things for you. Jessica’s your name, correct?”

Looking slightly thrown off by his question and tone, she nodded.

“Well, Jessica,” Gavin continued, “one: My life, and who used to be in it, is none of your business. Don’t ask me about it again. Two: You may think you can remedy my problem, but I’m pretty fucking sure you can’t. However, I’m more than sure I can fuck you into oblivion, remedying the recent tough times you’ve had right out of your mind. I might be younger than you, but you’re not my first walk in the park. Get where I’m going with this?”

Eyes wide, Jessica parted her lips but didn’t speak. She nodded again.

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Gavin handed his credit card to Miguel, who’d approached with their drinks. “Three: I’ve been around many intriguing women, so don’t take my statement as a compliment. I know how to flatter a woman better than telling her I find her under-sexed, crazed approach intriguing. Four: If you want to fuck, we can fuck. My house is a two-minute walk from here. But I’ll warn you now, that’s all it’ll be. Don’t expect a sleep over. I’ll fuck you, and fuck you very well, but I’ll send you on your way once our escapade is over. I won’t give you my number, and you’ll never enter my thoughts again. So now, Jessica…” Gavin cupped his chin, the crease of his brows showing he was trying to remember her last name.

“Layton,” Jessica answered, her voice cracking. “My last name’s Layton.”

“Ahh, that’s right. So now, Miss Jessica Layton, the ball’s in your court.” Gavin ran a hand through his hair and shot her a wink. Once again, Miguel approached the table with Gavin’s credit card. After shoving it back into his wallet, Gavin looked across the table at Jessica sitting speechless, her fingers rubbing up and down her neck. “Make the call, Jessica, because honestly, if we don’t do this,” he said with a light shrug, “I’ll just go back to my joint and milk my own dick.”

With shock twisting her face, Jessica stood, slipped her sandal back on, and reached for her clutch.

Assuming his curt response had scared her off, Gavin gave another shrug as his eyes landed on the family he was admiring earlier. He watched them make their way, hand in hand, over to a small, two-door clunk of shit. He knew his riches couldn’t compare to their happiness. He wanted that happiness. He wanted that clunk of shit.

“Well, are you ready?” Jessica asked, her voice laced with sexual urgency.

Gavin tore his attention from the fading dream and watched Jessica pluck his bourbon from his hands. She finished it in one long gulp. After placing the empty glass on the table, she brushed her fingertips across Gavin’s temple, down the side of his cheek, and over the curve of his jaw. Gavin momentarily stiffened, trying not to flinch at her touch. He rose and grabbed Jessica’s hand. His feet, as if they had a mind of their own, led them toward his place.

“So, aren’t you a little curious as to why I’m in Mexico alone?” Jessica questioned as they made their way down a small wooden walkway.

Looking out onto the tumbling waves, the last of the sun falling asleep below the horizon, Gavin shook his head. “Not really.”

“You know, you’re really not a nice guy.” She pulled her hand away. Its absence didn’t affect Gavin either way. Still, she followed closely by his side.

“No. I’m too much of a nice guy,” Gavin mumbled, idly wondering where Emily was in that moment. Loneliness flooded his chest, but he welcomed its suffocating presence. This was something he knew. It was all too familiar to him. He almost considered it an old buddy.

“Right,” Jessica huffed, her tone tight with skepticism. “Well, considering what we’re about to do, maybe you can try to be a little… pleasant?”

Stopping just shy of his place, Gavin looked at her, his brow drawn up. “Look, I laid it all out. I can do sex, but I won’t do pleasantries. Take it or leave it.” For the barest second, Gavin felt ill to his stomach. He’d been raised to always treat women with respect, and he pictured his father’s disgust with the way he was acting. Still, the thought was fleeting. His old habit screamed, waving its self-medication in his face.

Shut down. Shut off. Disconnect.

Jessica pursed her lips. “Fine. Only because I need this more than you know.”

Once on his porch, Jessica whipped her crimson hair to the side, and Gavin was suddenly engulfed by the scent of her body. Her jasmine perfume aroused memories he was trying to forget. It shook him, nearly staggering his balance. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. Looking down at her wanting green eyes, he brought his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her hard into his mouth. She pressed her chest against his and let out a soft moan, her hands coming up to grasp his hair. Her moan, although filled with seductive, feminine yearning, wasn’t the moan he wanted to hear. Her lips, sweet in their own way, didn’t feel right locked on his. They didn’t mold to his like a piece to a puzzle.

Anger swelled, and Gavin started kissing her with ravenous intensity. He pinned her against the wall, reached for her thigh, and drew her leg up around his waist. She breathed out heavily as he roughed his hand under her sundress, skimming below her panties. In one swift motion, he had three fingers buried inside her. Her hips bucked against each hard thrust, and she clung to his neck, fisting the collar of his white linen shirt. Her pussy, though wet and as ready as any man could ever want, felt foreign, and at this, Gavin fingered her deeper, harder.

“Wait,” she purred, trying to catch her breath. She towed her head back and stared into his eyes. “What are you doing? Are you going to fuck me right out here?”

With a smug grin, Gavin backed away, leaving her panting body lax against the wall. “Not as fun as you originally appeared, I see,” he muttered, fishing his keys from his pocket. He slid them into the door, unlocked it, and held it open as he waited for Jessica to adjust her clothing.

Sighing, she picked up her clutch from the ground. As she walked past him, she rolled her eyes. Dropping the clutch onto an antique, claw-footed table in the foyer, Jessica’s gaze swept across his expansive beachfront home. “Nice place.” She faced him, her smile showing she was impressed. “So now, where were we?”

“You were about to strip for me.” Gavin tossed his keys onto the table and started unbuttoning his shirt. After slipping it off, he leaned against the doorjamb of the kitchen and crossed his arms as he watched her undress.

Jessica peeled the last piece of clothing from her body and moved toward Gavin. She took his face in both of her hands and pulled him into her mouth. It was then Gavin shoved Emily back into his aching heart’s closet, locked the door, and threw away the key. As he unbuckled his belt, one clear thought attacked his mind.

Emily would be proud he was taking a “void filler” to bed tonight.

With fear eating away at her stomach and a desperate ache for Gavin consuming her, Emily handed her bags to the flight attendant as she stepped into Blake Industries’ private jet.

Olivia raised a playful brow. “Hmm, maybe I need to break a few hearts in order to get special treatment like you… Yes. It’s been decided. While you’re gone, I’m gonna find me some rich dude, fuck around with his head a little, and get his brother to send me to where he is in absolute fucking luxury so I can reclaim his love.”

Emily stared blankly at Olivia, her mouth agape.

“You know I’m only kidding, Em.” Olivia laughed and grabbed Emily’s hand, tugging her toward the back of the jet.

Trying to keep up, Emily sighed and shook her head. “What are you doing, nut job? You’re not coming with me. Or is this something else you’ve decided on a whim?”

“This is Blake Industries’ new jet, and if you think I’m stepping foot off it before I see every inch, you’re just as flighty as I thought.” Olivia halted and snorted. “I just made a joke. Flighty, flight, fly, flying. Get it?”

“Yes. I get it, Liv. Wanna know what I’ve decided on a whim?”

Olivia tilted her head, her eyes wide. “You’re not changing your mind, are you? I said I was kidding around, Em. You know I’m your biggest fan right now. I know this is scary for you—the whole flying thing and Gavin possibly not taking you back—but you have to do this. The pilot doesn’t look drunk, well, not too drunk, so it’s pretty safe to say you’re in good hands. Besides, if you don’t go, you’ll never find out what could’ve happened with you and Gavin. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Emily placed her hands on Olivia’s shoulders. “I’m not changing my mind, Olivia, but I’ve decided you’re no longer allowed to drink cappuccino.” Emily dropped her arms and smiled. “For someone who practically vibrates after one cup, two cups and you look like you’ve been smoking crack.”

“Oh. Right. My mother tells me the same, minus the whole smoking crack part.” Olivia reached for the back cabin door. “She usually says I look like I’ve committed a murder.”

“What are you doing? We can’t just go in there.”

Olivia whipped her head around. “Why not?”

“Because it’s Gavin and Colton’s private cabin.”

“Big deal.” Olivia shrugged and pushed open the door. “Like I said, I want the grand tour before I get off.”

Emily shook her head and watched Olivia disappear into the cabin. When the engines roared to life, she squeezed her eyes closed and clawed the tops of leather seats on either side of her. The vibrating sound immediately ignited her sickened fear of flying. She shivered. With a trembling breath and heart bouncing against her ribs, Emily mentally flipped through her one and only reason for being there.

Gavin…

Swallowing down her instinct to get the hell off the jet, Emily steadied herself, wiped away the sweat gathering on the back of her neck, and took two tentative steps forward. She tried to breathe deeply through her nose as she took another step, her fingernails nearly puncturing the cold leather. Grabbing the smooth, mahogany doorframe of the cabin, Emily peered in and found Olivia sprawled out on a king-sized bed, her lazy smile showing she was comfortable.

“You need to get up,” Emily stated. She shakily made her way across the room.

Smile faltering, Olivia sat up and pursed her lips. “You’re seriously no fun.”

“I know.” Emily frowned and rushed a hand through her hair. Her eyes darted around the room and landed on a blue Yankees cap hanging on a hook next to the minibar. Momentarily, she froze. Ignoring both her fear of flying and Olivia’s bitching about something as she slipped off the bed, Emily stared at the cap before moving toward it. Lifting her hand, she gently grazed her fingertips against it, her heart heavy with memories of Gavin’s smile shining in the sun as they sat at the game just a few months before.

As if the cap had seared her skin, Emily dropped her hand, hot tears blurring her vision. Backing away, she once again resisted the urge to flee. Run. So used to running from everything, the habit consumed her, but it faded as a slow smile curled her lips. She closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek, and allowed Gavin’s sweet, dimpled smile to wash over her. Allowed it to propel her into the unknown of what was to be of their future. If anything at all.

Emily felt a hand on her shoulder, and she swept away her tears, not wanting Olivia to see she’d been crying. Quickly, she turned around and made her way past Olivia.

“Are you okay?” Olivia asked, following her out into the aisle.

Slipping into one of the seats, Emily rested her head against the window. “I’m fine.”

Arms crossed, Olivia arched a skeptical brow. “You know, you’re really not a good liar.”

“Yeah. My mother used to tell me that,” Emily whispered, facing Olivia.

With a weary smile, Olivia leaned over the cream leather seat. She cupped Emily’s chin in her hand. “Right here, right now, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Everything’s going to be fine. I know you don’t believe me, but I think I have some kind of psychic thing going on. It’s going to be bucketloads of babies in a nasty green minivan with Mr. Gavin Fuckable Blake. You’ll see.” Olivia popped a kiss on top of Emily’s head, straightened, and walked away. “Text me the second you land!” she called out as she exited the jet.

After declining a beverage and a snack from the flight attendant, Emily closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on that baby-filled minivan. Gavin’s face flashed through her thoughts, bringing with it a flutter of anxiety and hope as she felt the jet rolling forward. The sound of her rapid heartbeat was devoured by the screaming engines. She calculated the flight from New York to Playa del Carmen at four hours and fifteen minutes, after which she knew her life would be forever changed, more so than it already had. Gripping the sides of the seat, palms sweaty, Emily Cooper found herself in a very different situation than the last time she was en route to a new destination, a new beginning. Sighing, she watched the city’s steel giants disappear beneath the blanket of clouds. Her heart sank as she inwardly prayed that what she was doing would indeed change her life.

This time for the better…

This time no longer afraid…

This time fighting for the man fate slated her to be with…

After an hour of standing in line to clear customs, Emily made her way through the crowded airport, her black suitcase rolling behind her. She weaved through a mixed array of tourists of every ethnic background as her nerves steadily built with each step. This was it. She was here, and there was no turning back. She only prayed that when she left, she’d have Gavin at her side.

However, it wasn’t something she was expecting.

Upon emerging from the packed building, her flesh hit with heat, she squinted in the bright sun. She searched for the driver Colton’s secretary told her would be waiting. Through the mass confusion of vendors peddling handmade blankets, dolls, and T-shirts, Emily’s gaze landed on a short, dark-haired man holding a sign with her last name on it.

Approaching him, she smiled and flashed her passport. “Hello, I’m Emily Cooper.”

“Yes. Yes. Hello, Señorita Cooper.” Reaching for Emily’s luggage, the man returned the smile and led her toward a black limousine parked among several collectivos in the busy streets. “Is this your first time in Playa del Carmen?” He opened the door for her.

Emily slid in, welcoming the air-conditioning. “Thank you. Yes, it is.”

After closing her door, he placed her belongings in the trunk, rounded the vehicle, and settled into the driver’s seat. Twisting the mirror slightly, he stared into it as he spoke. “Well, welcome. Our town is beautiful. My name is Javier. I make sure to give you nice tour on the way to your hotel. Si?”

“Oh. Actually, I wasn’t planning on going to the hotel right away.” Emily dug in her purse and pulled out the paper with Gavin’s address. Not wanting to let another minute pass without seeing him, she slid across the bench and showed it to Javier. “I’d like to stop here first if I can, please?”

Nodding, Javier pulled away from the curb and smiled, his warm brown eyes twinkling in the reflection. “Absolutely, Señorita Cooper. Wherever you like. I have you to your destination very soon.”

“Thank you, Javier.”

Emily sat back and tried to process every emotion working through her mind. The innate need for Gavin hit her again, intensified beyond anything she’d ever felt. Anxiety coiled in ribbons around her body. She shifted restlessly, each breath a struggle as she watched tour buses, mopeds, and Fifa, the Mexican police, fly by. Though the ride into the heart of Playa del Carmen took less than twenty minutes, the wait felt like forever. With edgy nervousness pumping though her veins, Emily found it hard to concentrate as the limousine turned onto a desolate, narrow road lined with a few mansions.

When the vehicle rolled to a stop in front of Gavin’s home, she drew in a deep breath and swallowed down every instinct telling her Gavin wasn’t taking her back. Emily opened the door before Javier had a chance to exit the limo. She stepped out and took in the mammoth structure. Classic Mexican terracotta shingles crowned the white-stucco jewel sitting on a hill overlooking the pristine Caribbean waters. Brushing her windblown auburn hair away from her face, Emily found her mind frozen, yet her body ignored its plea to not move. Her body, nauseous with anxiety, felt Gavin’s pull, that deep, familiar pull she’d felt from the first time she saw him. Before she knew it, she was slowly walking up to his home. Javier called out from behind her, but she held up a hand, signaling him to wait.

Standing before the dark mahogany and beveled, etched glass door towering over her tiny frame, Emily fought back tears, lifted a trembling hand, and rang the doorbell. Her heart sped, its thumping rushing through her ears, as a blurred figure made its way over to answer. Body taut with fear, a fear she’d brought on herself by doing this to her and Gavin, Emily closed her eyes and tried to grasp some minuscule hope that she wasn’t about to face the disaster her head was telling her was coming. Before the door swung open, flashes of Gavin’s blue eyes crept into Emily’s thoughts, however when it opened, those weren’t the eyes staring back at her.

Raven-colored hair twisted into a tight bun and wearing a maid’s uniform, the lanky woman smiled. “Puedo ayudarle?”

“Umm, yes. Is Gavin here?” Emily asked, tying to quell the shakiness in her voice.

“No. El Sr. Blake no está aquí. Se fue a beber a Akumal.”

Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry. I only speak English.”

“No entiendo lo que esta diciendo. El Señor Blake no está aquí.”

Emily turned around and waved at Javier where he was waiting in the driveway with her luggage.

“Si, Señorita Cooper,” he said, climbing the steps to the covered porch. “I bring your bags in for you. Good?”

“No, thank you for that, Javier. I don’t need my belongings brought in. I think Mr. Blake’s not home, and this woman’s trying to explain to me where he is. Can you translate for me, please?”

“Ahh, of course.” Smiling, Javier swung his attention to the woman. “Juanita, buenas tardes.”

The woman nodded. “Buenas tardes.”

“Colton me envió al aeropuerto a recoger a esta joven y traerla de vuelta a ver Gavin. Está en casa?”

Emily waited as patiently as possible while they spoke. When they were done, the woman nodded before closing the door.

Javier looked at Emily. “Señor Blake’s at a bar in Akumal. It’s not too far of a drive. Maybe twenty minutes. Come. I take you there now.”

Emily watched Javier bolt down the steps and across the driveway. After placing her luggage in the trunk, he opened the door to the limousine for her. Still standing on the porch, Emily hesitated. Her mind was spinning over every possible reason she shouldn’t show up in a public place to see Gavin. She couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. They needed privacy to discuss everything. Though pain of waiting to see him, even just a little while longer, throbbed in her chest, Emily decided she would get settled in her hotel room and come back later in the evening. With that, she started making her way over to Javier to let him know her plans.

As she neared the limo, she snapped her head in the direction of the sound of a vehicle’s tires kicking up gravel in the distance. Holding her hand up to shade the sun from her eyes, she squinted and watched the charcoal gray sports car cut a hard left into the driveway. With its windows tinted as black as an iron kettle, Emily couldn’t make out who was driving. That didn’t prevent her heart, which was beating like a drum, from coming to a complete stop for a long second. As she tried to pull in a breath, the organ stuttered back to life when Gavin stepped out of the vehicle, a grin on his face. Emily’s eyes flickered with uncertainty at his demeanor, considering he hadn’t looked in her direction yet. In a complete fog at what she was witnessing, chills shot and prickled across Emily’s skin as not one but two reasons for Gavin’s jovial mood slid out of the car. Taking an unsteady step back, panic flooded Emily’s limbs when Gavin’s gaze caught hers. His grin disappeared immediately. She could read the question in his eyes, and she was sure she was about to pass out.

Tilting his head in confusion, Gavin halted mid-stride. He knew the past few days had taken their toll on him, mentally and physically, and he also knew he had some alcohol running through his system, but he was pretty fucking sure he wasn’t seeing things. “What the fuck?” he whispered. He whipped off his sunglasses and scrubbed the heels of his palms across his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” the auburn beauty asked, grazing her pouty red lips against his jaw. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Gavin rolled his shoulder, shrugging her off his arm. “I have,” he bit out, cutting his narrowed eyes her way.

The platinum knockout snapped her gum. “Jeez, talk about split personalities. What’s up?”

Gavin tore his attention from the two soon to be “void fillers,” his gaze intent on Emily who was turning to get into the limo. Without saying another word, he jogged over to her, his body reacting to Emily the only way it’d ever known how. Heart in his throat and confusion hammering through his head, Gavin reached out, grabbing her elbow. “What are you doing here, Emily?” The feel of her soft skin seared into his mind, kicking up memories he was trying to forget.

Frozen, Emily didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. Breathing heavily from his simple touch, she nervously swallowed and tried to find her words. “I came to talk to you,” she whispered.

Gavin released her and stepped back. “Turn around and look at me,” he commanded, his voice low.

Pulse quickening, Emily slowly turned, her gaze locking onto his. Staring into his confused blue eyes, she curled her fingers around the top of the door to steady herself.

Her beautiful face nearly stole the breath from Gavin’s lungs. His eyes fell from hers, immediately landing on her quivering lips. Lips God created to fit his. Lips that’d haunted his every dream since he’d left. Her silky auburn hair whipped around in the warm breeze. Hair made to tickle his face as she hovered above him while making love. Gavin tried to breathe while his need for her snaked through every tense muscle in his body, culminating in a torturous, slow burn. His chest constricted with love, but anger at her boiled beneath his skin. A slow smirk curled his mouth. “You have permission from your husband to come see me? I never took Dillon for one who would grant his wife an open marriage.”