He tilted her head back, angled her body to his, and slid his mouth down her neck.
“Dillon, please,” she moaned, grabbing onto his shirt. “God, please, Dillon, don’t lie to me,” she begged as tears ran down her face.
“Baby, I’m not lying.” He trailed his hands under her dress and slipped it over her head. “I fucking love you, Emily. You’re my world. I can’t lose you,” he whispered into her mouth, his breath ragged against hers. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Her own indiscretions with Gavin tore through her as she looked into Dillon’s brown eyes, oxygen seeming to evaporate from her lungs. The guilt thrusted itself like an ice-laden spear through her heart.
“Tell me you believe me,” he breathed out heavily, slowly kneeling as he swirled his tongue in hypnotizing circles down her stomach. He then slid her panties past her thighs. “Tell me you believe me, baby.”
She felt so torn over what she wanted to believe and what she had done with Gavin. “Yes, I believe you,” she cried. “I’m so sorry, Dillon. I’m so sorry.”
Before she knew it, he ripped the panties from her body, pulled her up off the ground, and carried her to her bed. He spread her legs, holding her in place, as his tongue laved against her painfully pleasurable spot. Her body writhed against his mouth and moved of its own accord while he gripped onto her hips, sucking, licking, and tasting her very essence.
Her muscles convulsed with both ecstasy and guilt as his fingers slid in and out of her hot warmth. Needing to rid herself of the shame she felt and wanting him inside her at that very moment, she strained up.
“Dillon, I want you now,” she moaned, sliding herself back against the pillows.
He shed the rest of his clothing, climbed into the bed, and sank himself inside her. She gripped his caging biceps, throwing her head back at the sensation of him pulsing into her hot flesh. He slammed his mouth over hers and stifled her moans as she closed her eyes. And then it happened—the visions of Gavin kissing her, the feel of his velvet tongue, the warm touch of his fingertips all over her body—her every thought was consumed by him. Dillon was on top of her, but all she could feel, touch, smell, and taste was Gavin.
Emily stopped moving beneath Dillon; her entire body froze.
“What’s wrong?” he breathed into her ear, continuing to move above her.
“I feel like I’m going to be sick.” She slid out from beneath him and rushed to the bathroom.
He let out a sigh and flipped onto his back. “What the fuck, Em?”
Shutting the door behind her, she fell to her knees in front of the toilet as hot tears welled in her eyes and nausea threatened to spill over. Placing her elbow on the seat, she buried her hands in her hair, trying to catch her breath. She sat there for a few seconds, a few minutes, maybe a few hours. She didn’t know how much time had passed when she finally stood up.
She walked over to the mirror and stared at her reflection. After throwing some water on her face, she made her way out into her room where Dillon had already fallen asleep. Quietly getting into bed with him, she curled the blankets over her body, hoping to find sleep and praying that she wasn’t heading into something she couldn’t control.
Chapter Seven
Friendly Intentions
“Miss, you never brought our appetizer.”
Without saying a word, Emily stared blankly at the woman’s face. Her scattered thoughts were obviously not where they should be.
The woman glared at Emily. “Hello? Our dinners have arrived, and you never brought out our appetizer.”
“I’m…I’m so sorry,” Emily stammered. “I’ll be right back with it.”
Rushing into the kitchen, she let the cooks know she needed an order of mozzarella sticks on the fly. She made her way back to the table, apologized again, and let them know that it would be another few minutes. Trying to recover any possible chance of a tip, Emily offered to pay for their dessert. With that, the missing appetizer became a thing of the past as the woman smiled and accepted.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Emily took a seat at the bar, thankful that they hadn’t complained…or so she thought.
“Country,” Antonio said. “What just happened? Table sixteen told me you forgot their appetizer?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. Roberto is taking care of it right now.”
“Did you offer them dessert?”
“I did.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, placing a caring hand on her shoulder. “You seem out of it tonight.”
“I just have a lot going on right now, Antonio. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“If you’re not feeling good, I can let you off early,” he replied with concern filling his face.
“Thanks, but I’m alright.”
He nodded and headed into his office.
Emily trudged through work over the next few hours. The evening passed by in a blur as she found herself still trying to grasp everything that had happened. By the time her shift was over, she felt physically and mentally drained.
With her head peering down into her purse searching for her wallet, Emily opened the door to leave, only to run smack into what felt like a brick wall. An audible “oof” broke through her lips. She snapped her head up to apologize, and then her emerald green eyes locked on to beautiful baby blues.
“Jesus, are you alright?” Gavin asked, reaching out to steady her.
Emily struggled not to gasp at the subtle contact of his warm strong fingers wrapped around her arms. Her senses were momentarily rewarded from his cologne wafting through the air around them. A flush crept over her cheeks from the spike in temperature between them, making her feel like she might burst into flames. As Gavin looked down at her, he held her gaze—a dangerous thing to do because a girl could seriously lose herself in those eyes, especially after what had happened between them. That kiss had been devastating, painful, euphoric, and everything else she had imagined it would be—all wrapped into one.