He Deepens The Kiss

Waves of ecstasy roil around in my belly. I feel myself falling so I grab hold of his shoulders as he deepens the kiss.

James crushes me to his chest while pressing me back into the kitchen counter. He cups my round bottom, lifting me slightly, fitting our pelvis together and his arousal presses between the V of my legs.

Breathless, I dig my fingers into the hard muscles of his shoulders and tentatively insert my tongue into his mouth. He sucks on the tip of my tongue and each tugging motion pulls at my womb.

I run my hands down his chest, gasping at the rigid muscles I come in contact with. Oh God, what is this man doing to me? I can't think. My brain scrambles from the myriad of sensations he is creating inside me. I want to feel him more intimately against me. My breasts ache and the nipples are hard, seeking attention.

"James," I moan into his mouth.

He wrenches himself away from me so suddenly, I almost fall from the loss of contact. I clutch at the counter behind my back to support the weakness in my knees. He looks unperturbed while I am quite shattered by the kiss we just share.

"I'll be back tomorrow at ten," he announces. "Be ready for us to leave for Detroit. And Emmy, don't think about running. Next time, I'll not be so understanding."

He walks out of the house and I sag against the counter, my hand going to my kiss-swollen lips. James kissed me. And I kissed him right back. The ache between my legs and in my breasts remind me of his body pressing up against mine. I plunge trembling fingers through my hair, my body shaking.

Just what have I gotten myself into?

Five minutes after ten. I sigh in relief. I'd been stupid for packing and he isn't here. I didn't take him for someone who disregards time which means he probably had time to think last night and realized how ridiculous he was being for insisting I return with him to Detroit. A pang of disappointment makes my heart heavy. I'd thought…

I push the thought from my mind. I'd thought nothing. James had kissed me yesterday. So what? He must have kissed dozens of women in his lifetime and he is still a single man. Why should I think that kiss yesterday means anything to him? It doesn't mean anything to me either.

But I am lying to myself. I'd never been kissed like that before and last night as I lay in bed, I'd relived it, my body aching so much that I'd had to pleasure myself. I'd not done anything of the sort since being a teenager but last night, pent up with sexual frustration I'd had to.

I go over to the mirror and scowl at myself for taking extra care with my appearance this morning. The black and white sleeveless polka dot dress with pleated skirts and V-neck reaches mid-thigh.

With It, I am wearing a pair of black wedges. I'd plaited my hair in a single French braid over one shoulder and curled the tendrils of the hair that escaped from the braid about my heart-shaped face.

"You're so foolish, dressing up for him," I scold myself. "You'll never be anything more to him than just amusement."

I grimace at an upsetting feeling in my tummy. I'd not been able to eat this morning and I'd thought it was nerves but now I'm beginning to think it is something else.

Maria and I went out last night to a seafood restaurant and now I am wondering if I'd eaten something that wasn't wholesome. This morning when I'd gotten up, my face had been clammy with sweat.

My heart skips a beat when I hear a car driving up to the house. My eyes automatically go to the clock in my bedroom. He's late. Fifteen minutes after ten but he's here. What does that say?

Nothing. Except he really is desperate for a PA who already is familiar with the running of James's Publishing. And the kiss? I'd rather not analyse that. I still have no idea why he kissed me. Probably noticed my attraction to him and wanted it to humiliate me.

A car door opens and closes. The doorbell rings and I close my eyes. Maria would get it. She thinks I don't know what she is doing but I do. She has her two closest friends from the Bridge Club with her, drinking tea in the living room and gossiping.

The minute they came over at nine I knew they are here to get a good look at my handsome, rich boss.

Last night, I heard Maria on the phone talking about him, about how dashing he is and so polite and kind too. I scoff at myself. If only she had an inkling about the true James.

After a few minutes passed, I decide the introductions would have already been done so we could load my suitcases in his car and get going. I leave my bedroom, wheeling my suitcases behind me out into the hall. I could hear chattering and laughing coming from the living room so I head in that direction.

Why am I not surprised to see James sitting between Maria's two friends on the sofa? Margaret Turnpike and Dotty Hayes. Both girls are staring up at him with adoring eyes. One would have thought him to be the much-touted Messiah. I scowl at them all sitting there acting like he is some kind of saint.

"Emmy, your friend was right," Dotty says to me and she touches James's arm, the shameless flirt she still is at 35. "You've got yourself one fine man here."

"He's just my boss," I correct her, going to perch on the armrest of the sofa where Maria is sitting.

"If I have a boss like this, I'd come out of retirement," Margaret adds with a giggle.