Emergency Engagement (Love Emergency 1)

“It’s not going to take long.”

She laved the smooth crown, and then speared the tip of her tongue into the opening. At the same time, she gave his balls a pump. His big body jerked, and a fast, harsh inhale reached her ears.

“Okay. I’m there. You should stop before I—”

“Beau?” She had to raise her head to speak, but she refused to relinquish her grip on the boys.

“What?” His tortured reply pleased her almost as much as the desperate look in his eyes.

“Sit back, relax, and let me take care of you.” Before he could respond, she lowered her head and encased him, taking him in as deep as she could without denying herself oxygen. Then she squeezed again.

The hand in her hair fisted. Muscles tensed, and then long, hard-fought words echoed in her ears as she drained him. “Jesus. Savannah. I love the way you take care of me.”

Her heart trembled.

No, but you would. You would if you’d really let me.

Chapter Fifteen

“I get nervous when you do that, Smith.”

“What? This?” Naturally, she kept right at it.

Beau tightened his grip on the steering wheel and forced his attention back to the road. “Yes. That. Do you have any idea how many accidents I see involving exactly what you’re doing right now?”

She shrugged. “Then you’d really hate watching me do it while I’m driving.”

Good point. “At least give it a rest while I make this turn.”

“Oh, please. I’ve done this while going over railroad tracks—at forty miles per hour—without a single mishap.”

Before he could give her shit about taking railroad tracks at forty miles an hour, she lowered her hand from her face and waited while he steered the Yukon into the parking lot of the Chattahoochee Tavern. As soon as he slid into one of the few remaining open slots, she flicked on the interior light and resumed applying black gunk to her eyelashes with a long, potentially blinding wand. What was the female preoccupation with eyelashes, anyway? He supposed he’d notice if someone didn’t have any, but short of that…

She tossed the tube into her oversize red purse and dug around for something else.

“You don’t need the war paint. You look beautiful.”

“I look like I haven’t seen a ray of sun in almost a week—which I haven’t.” Her attention never wavered from the bag. “I need blush.”

He crossed his arms and settled into the seat. “I could make you blush.”

She arched her brows at him. “And mess up all my hard work? I’d have to start all over again. But it’s nice to know someone’s ready to have fun this evening.”

He was. For the first time in a long time he actually looked forward to a holiday party. Some credit went to his mom, who’d called that morning to tell him her pathology results couldn’t have been better. Clear margins, clear nodes. Sh

e’d passed the news along to him as casually as discussing the weather, and then dived right into plans for when he and Savannah visited, but he’d been a little too distracted by the waves of relief washing over him to pay much attention.

Hell yeah, he was ready to have some fun.

Savannah took a break from moving a fat brush over her cheeks in rapid circles. “That makes two of us. I’m really happy to know your mom is in the clear.”

“Me, too.”

She smiled, and then tipped her head toward the mirror again and slicked some glossy red stuff on her lips. The way she held her lips open and moved the wand over them sent his memory sliding back to the other night, on his sofa, and the feel of those soft but nimble lips cradling his highly appreciative cock.

When she finished, she dropped the gloss in her bag and turned to him. He flicked off the dome light, which left the interior of the car gilded by the soft white glow from the lights around the tavern’s parking lot. He turned to her, propped his left arm on the steering wheel, and leaned closer. Hemmed her in when it came right down to it, but he didn’t think she’d mind. “Tell me, Savannah, do you have everything you need in that bag of yours to redo all this?” He ran his finger along her cheekbone.

Long, darkened lashes fluttered, and his groin tightened. Maybe he was a lash man after all?