The Bravo Billionaire Part 10

They were still sitting too close, still staring into each other's eyes. It probably should have become uncomfortable. But it hadn't.

He said, "Your aunt ended up a waitress, didn't she?"

Emma granted him a quick, firm nod. "Aunt Ca.s.s was a fine waitress. She always had the knack for taking care of folks. And she had a memory. You have to have a memory, to wait tables and be good at it. If she served you breakfast once, she'd always remember what you liked and how you liked it. You'd slide onto a stool at her counter and she'd glance over at you and ask if you wanted the same as you had last time. If you said yes, you would get it. Because she really did remember. That's important to folks. That their preferences are remembered."

He was watching her lips. It occurred to Emma that he was probably going to kiss her.

What would Aunt Ca.s.s think of that? Emma blinked. "'If pa.s.sion drives, let reason hold the reins.' Aunt Ca.s.s used to say that."

"I think Benjamin Franklin may have said it first," Jonas suggested softly. Yes, a kiss was definitely coming. His mouth was close, much closer than it ought to be.

"Benjamin Franklin?"

"That's right."

Emma felt a little hurt. "Aunt Ca.s.s never told me."

He shrugged again, an itty-bitty shrug, hardly lifting those fine shoulders at all. "Just an oversight, I'm sure."

She tried to put some starch in her tone. "Well, whoever said it, it is something to think about, don't you agree?"

"Absolutely." He laid his big, warm hand against her throat.

A hot shiver went through her. "Jonas..."

"Um?"

"I am ... I am getting the feeling that reason is not holding the reins at this moment."

"Certainly it is."

"Uh. No. No, I don't think-"

"What we have to remember, is to let pa.s.sion drive."

"No. I don't think so. I think you should go now. I think-"

And he did it. Right then. He bent that tiny bit closer, and his mouth met hers.

Oh, why did he have to go and do that?

She froze. She stayed utterly, completely still. But he only went on kissing her, lightly, gently, tormentingly.

Until she could bear it no longer.

With a hungry cry, Emma wrapped her arms around those wonderful big shoulders and pulled him down with her across the bed.

Chapter 9.

G etting her naked was a top priority. Jonas sensed that as long as she had that little purple dress on, she could continue to tell herself that kissing was all that was happening here.

He kept his mouth locked on hers as he repositioned them a little, pulling her along with him, until they both lay on their sides. He located the zipper at the back of the dress and he took it down in one quick stroke.

She jerked away and stared at him, eyes wide, cheeks charmingly flushed. "Oh, Jonas. No."

He gave her a puzzled frown, though he wasn't puzzled in the least. He knew exactly what that "No" had meant.

She let out a little groan. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have..." The words trailed off in midsentence.

He prompted, with great patience, he thought, "You shouldn't have what?"

"Kissed you back, when you kissed me. Pulled you down here, across the bed. I was wrong. And, well, I think this is a bad idea."

Tenderly, he began slipping purple silk over the curve of her shoulder and down her arm.

"Jonas," she murmured reproachfully.

Her skin was wonderfully soft, smooth as a baby's. She was wearing a little purple nothing of a bra. He wanted that off her, too though he had to admit, it looked pretty d.a.m.n good on.

He thought about control about how much he'd like to just let it go. Rip everything off her and bury himself in her. He wouldn't do that.

But the temptation was there. He was hard for her, achingly so, and he wanted her. Now.

Very gently, he pressed his mouth to the curve of her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her, "What's a bad idea?" he asked as if he didn't know.

"As if you didn't know," she said, in exactly the tone he had thought it. She slid the dress back in place on her shoulder. "You and me. Having s.e.x. I think it's a bad idea."

Her back was bare, now he'd taken the zipper down. So he ran his hand down the center of it. She shivered. "Oh!" She moaned. "Don't..."

He guided her onto her back again and leaned over her. She had her eyes closed. "Emma."

"No. If I look at you, I'll only want to kiss you."

"Emma..."

Those long lashes fluttered open. "See? I was right." She hooked her arm around his neck and pulled him down again.

Yes. He did like the taste of her mouth. Moist and ripe and sweet as a peach. He ran his tongue along the inside of her upper lip. Wet silk.

She pushed him away again and narrowed her mostly-green eyes at him. "Jonas. I was not going to do this."

"But Emma. You are doing this."

"It's real weak and irresponsible of me. It sets a bad example."

"A bad example for whom?"

"Well, for you, of course. You're the one I'm supposed to be helping."

He took her meaning. After all, he knew his own mother. He did understand the nature of Blythe's scheme. In the year to come, the dog groomer from Texas was supposed to make of him a warmer, kinder, gentler man.

It wasn't going to happen. Jonas was who he was.

"Emma," he said gently. "I am thirty-six years old. Long past the age when I required an example."

"Still, it seems to me that-"

He put a finger against her soft mouth. "Listen." She pressed her lips together and nodded to show she was doing just that. He explained, "If you keep saying no, I'll start to think you mean it."

"But I do mean it."

He decided it was time to call her hand. "All right." He levered himself away from her and swung his feet to the floor.

She sat up, the purple dress sliding fetchingly down one shoulder, a platinum curl falling over her eye. "You're goin'?"

"Yes." He turned and started walking, sure of himself and of her for the first five or six steps, then not so sure, then absolutely certain he had blown it royally.

He got through the sitting area and was reaching for the bra.s.s handle on the door to the hall when she spoke from behind him.

"Jonas."

He turned and faced her.

At some point between his starting for the door and reaching it, she had kicked off her high-heeled sandals and jumped to her feet at the end of the bed. She stared at him, wide-eyed, her hand against her chest which made her look doubly earnest and also appeared necessary in order to keep the purple dress from falling off.

Relief washed through him. It seemed that he had won this round, after all.

Jonas was right.

Emma had changed her mind.

She made herself confess, "I just admitted the truth to myself."

He lifted one eyebrow at her. "And that is?"

"I can't stand to see you go. We are married, after all, even if it is only a temporary thing. And, well, maybe we should. And maybe we shouldn't. I don't know anymore. I only know that I ... well, I want my weddin' night."

He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just stood there by the door, looking at her with an expression that, to Emma's mind, could have meant just about anything.

Emma dropped her hand away from her chest. The top of the purple dress fell to her waist. She looked down at herself, at her lace and satin bra and the twin swells of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. And then she looked back up at him, hopefully. She thought that maybe something happened in his eyes something hot and hungry.

But he still had not moved.

Well, all right, then.

The dress was too snug to fall off by itself. So she shimmied it down the rest of the way.

Once it lay in a pile around her ankles, she stepped out of it.

Then she stood tall and looked him square in the eye. "Jonas. Won't you please stay with me tonight?"

He answered by coming toward her again, loosening his tie, dropping his beautiful jacket to the floor, working at one cuff link and then the other, shoving them into a pocket of his slacks once he had gotten them off. When he reached her, he was already starting on the b.u.t.tons of his shirt.

Emma bent and picked up her dress. She shook it out and turned to lay it over a chair.

Jonas grabbed her hand.

She stopped, turned, met his eyes saw with a little surge of pleasure that he was worried she might have changed her mind again. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

He released her.

She laid out the dress and came back to him. He was naked to the waist by then, sitting on the end of the bed. He took off his finely made shoes, slid off his socks, rolled them up and stuck them inside the shoes.

She stood over him, in her bra and matching bikini panties and nothing else. He set the shoes on the pale, soft carpet. And then, still bent low, he wrapped his hand around her right ankle.

Emma had to lock her knees to keep from melting to the floor in a puddle of pure l.u.s.t. She stared down at the curve of his powerful back, at the nape of his neck, at his dark, thick, close-cut hair.

He looked up then, craning his head back until their eyes could meet. She wanted to bend down and put her mouth on his again, but then she caught herself. There was something important that hadn't been mentioned. "I don't have anything, for protection. I wasn't planning to-" His hand tightened on her ankle. "No problem. There's a drawer in the bed table. And condoms in the drawer." She couldn't help smiling. He was Jonas Bravo, after all. A man you didn't catch unprepared. "Well, okay then." His hand started to move. It slid upward, over her calf, behind her knee, along the back of her thigh. "Oh, my, my..." she whispered. And then she climbed into his lap. * * * "I think you should sit very still," he suggested in a pained whisper a few minutes later. She sat in his lap, her legs folded along either side of his big thighs. He was pressed up against the satin crotch of her bikini panties. They were getting pretty wet, those panties.

And Emma was feeling very, very eager. "Oh, Jonas. I can't. I cannot sit still..." She rocked her hips against him, along the thick, tempting length of him. It felt real, real good.

He groaned aloud. She found she liked that to hear him groan.

She put her mouth against his throat and moaned as she licked his skin. "You taste so good, Jonas."

He made a growling sound. And then he unhooked her bra.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as he peeled it away.

He threw it across the room. It landed somewhere by the sitting area, she thought not that she had any interest in turning around to check.

He took her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hands and he said, "I'm sorry. Chances are, this will not be slow."

"It's all right." She hitched in a hungry breath. "Fast is good. Fast is just fine..."

His lifted her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She took his signal and raised up to her knees. His mouth closed around her left nipple.

Emma found she was beginning to understand the kind of women who yelled and screamed during lovemaking. She could do a little yelling and screaming right now, oh she certainly could.

She moaned way too loudly and let her head fall back, spearing her fingers into his hair, pulling his big head in closer, harder, as he drew on her nipple and swirled his tongue around it and rolled it, grazing it oh so lightly, with his teeth.

He lowered himself back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him, letting go of her left nipple and then immediately latching right on to the other one. Emma crouched on her knees above him, holding his head to her breast, moaning so loudly by that time that anyone who heard would probably have called it a yell.