The Truest Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 4)

“It’s you!” She gestured to him in exasperation. “With your throat and forearms and sexy hands and that swagger.”

Thrill coursed through Jack as he approached her. “Are you telling me you’re horny, Em, or that you’re horny for me?”

“I hate that word.” She slapped her hands over her face to cover her mortification and groaned.

Jack grinned as he approached, heat flushing through him. He gently peeled her hands from her face. “Don’t be embarrassed, Em. I am unbelievably flattered. And more than happy to be of use.”

Her jaw dropped. “Meaning?”

“I can’t have my favorite girl walking around all frustrated, now can I?” He maneuvered her toward the bed.

“But Jack …” Her chest rose and fell with excitement as her expression moved between desire and uncertainty. “It wouldn’t change anything between us.”

“I know that,” he lied. “I’m just a friend helping another friend out. No strings attached.”

Emery bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.”

That she was even considering it meant she really fucking wanted him.

She was hormonal, her sex drive had kicked into top gear, and it was Jack she wanted. Even if Emery couldn’t see what that meant, he could. And he was not above using the situation to further his case: Jack vs. Emery’s heart.

“You wet, sunrise?” he asked, voice gruff as he itched to slip his fingers inside her and find out for himself.

“Jack.” She stumbled against the bottom of the bed and raised her hands to rest on his chest.

“Are you wet?” he repeated against her mouth.

Emery was panting now. She nodded slowly, cheeks high with color.

“Let me give you what you need,” he whispered. “For however long you need it. No promises, no owing me anything.”

“Jack …”

“I want to kiss you, Em.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “Not just here”—an

other brush—“but where you need it most. Right on that pretty little pussy of yours.”

She gasped, her fingers curling into his shirt. And then, “Oh, screw it,” she panted, and pulled him down to her mouth.

Thank you, God! Jack sent up an exultation as he sank into Emery’s deep, hungry kiss. Quickly he took it over and she swayed in his arms.

“Dress off,” he pulled back to say.

While Em whipped it up and off, Jack divested himself of all his clothes, watching as Em threw her dress to the floor, standing there in nothing but her lace underwear.

“You’re so beautiful, I can barely stand it,” he said.

“Jack, hurry.”

But Jack didn’t want to hurry.

He wanted to make love to his pregnant Em.

With light strokes, Jack learned every inch of her with his touch—her ribs, her waist, her belly. His fingers trailed over the slight swell, and possessiveness roared through him. Her ass was next. He fondled and squeezed until Em was squirming and muttering with impatience.

“Jack, please.”

Smiling at her with promise in his eyes, Jack unhooked her bra and nudged the straps down her arms. It fell to the floor. The cool air whispered over Em’s breasts, making her nipples pucker into tight, needy buds.