Off Limits (Off 2)

Reflecting about last night with Emily has pretty much ruled my thoughts today and it's irritating the crap out of me. I had been hoping that I would have her once and then she would be out of my system.

Stupid thought.

I had her three times and she still isn't out of my system. And this thought is actually a burden to me because I don't like being beholden to my feelings.

Last night was beyond amazing. Emily was amazing.

When I told her to take her clothes off, she looked at me with those amber eyes and I could tell she was intimidated. But just as quickly, determination washed over her face, quickly to be replaced with desire.

Yes...Emily was inexperienced. No doubt. But I so enjoyed teaching her things last night. And I have more to show her.

After our first time, as I was lying there, trying to get my heart rate to slow down, Emily rolled on her side, propping her head on her hand. She reached out and lightly laid her hand on my chest. Her words were reverent when she said, "Thank you, Nix."

I had jerked my head in surprise at her.

Thank you? For what? An orgasm?

I was kind of offended so I asked her what she was talking about.

She just leaned over, kissed my chest, and said, "For going outside of your comfort zone. For taking a chance on me. I know it wasn't easy."

I know I just stared at her dumbfounded. It twisted something deep inside of me as I realized that she is...had always been...perceptive of my feelings. She knew all of this had been a struggle for me and she was grateful for the dice I decided to roll.

Her words alone provoked me to hardness and I rolled back over on top of her. The second time between us was almost frantic. As if the world would end if we couldn't be together. There was nipping, hard sucking and fingers digging into soft skin.

As we lay gasping beside each other after that round, she had looked at me and said, "You don't have to stay the night. I know it's not your thing."

And she was right. That wasn't my thing. Except...I didn't want to seem to leave. And I told her so. She just smiled and said I was welcome to spend the night if I wanted.

We ended up falling asleep, on our sides, just looking at each other.

This morning, I woke up with Emily sprawled across my chest, her legs twined with mine. Her arm was wrapped around my waist and her hair was tickling my nose. Her body was soft and warm against mine...oddly comforting.

And arousing.

I had her for the third time before I left. That time was slow and soft. I left her with a smile on her face--and mine--when I left to head back across the river.

And now...I'm officially worried. She had texted me when she left Manhattan and she should have been here almost thirty minutes ago. I get up from the barstool and head out the door of the bar so I can have some quiet when I call Emily to check on her.

When I'm about ten feet from the door it opens and Emily strolls in. She looks like she is wrapped in sunshine. Her hair is in a high ponytail and it's swinging jauntily with her steps. She's wearing no makeup, but then again, she doesn't need to. Her casual Abercrombie outfit sticks out like a sore thumb in this place...sinfully short khaki skirt, a blue tank top and a dark denim jacket. Her feet are encased in a pair of shimmery, silver sandals that scream, "I'm Out Of Place In A Biker Bar."

"Hey. Sorry I'm late. There's a bad wreck on the turnpike and traffic is spilling out onto all the side roads."

She's standing there, so casual, with her hands tucked into her front pockets as she looks at me. I'm so used to a woman making some sort of play on me that I'm kind of at a loss as to what to do with her serendipitous approach.

"I was worried something had happened to you," I grouch. "Next time try calling."

She tilts her head at me. "Seriously? Since when did we enter into the realm of calling each other about things?"

Indeed. When did we do that? Or rather, when did I do that?

She walks up to me and stands on her tiptoes. My body eagerly bends so she can place her lips near my ear. She continues in a whisper, "Last I heard, we were just fucking each other."

Her words are like a slap in my face and a punch of lust to my dick all at once. Emily is right...she owed me no phone call, and I have no right to be pissed at her for that. But hearing her say the words that we were "fucking each other" was hot as hell. I didn't know Emily had it in her to drop the "F" bomb like that.

I straighten back up and merely say, "Touche."

Emily gives me a winning smile and looks around the bar. I see her eyebrows rise up as she takes in the scenery. It's mid-afternoon so it's not that crowded, but there are still enough rough looking characters in here that a girl of her social element would feel uncomfortable.

Every guy is decked out in denim and leather, and every woman is wearing tight clothing with no bras. Most everyone is covered with tattoos and piercings. Emily is probably ready to bolt.

I start to walk toward the door to get her out of here when she steps past me and says, "I'd like to stay for a beer. It's the least you can do for dragging me out to Newark."

I turn around slowly and just watch stunned as she heads to the bar and plops down on a stool to sit next to Wolf. He looks down at her, raking his gaze from head to toe. She looks like she walked out of a fashion runway magazine and she sticks out like a sore thumb.

She gives him a cheerful hello and he grunts an acknowledgment at her. He's not the biggest conversation maker and I'm sure he's shocked as shit to see someone like her in this bar.

I walk back to my beer and pick it up, taking a seat next to Emily.

***

Three beers later and Emily is having the time of her life. She's playing pool with Wolf and he's actually treating her like the daughter he never had. I'm on my stool --watching her --with my legs stretched out in front of me.

She is pure, walking sin and for the past half hour, I've been trying to think how to get back home with her in the same car without mauling her.

When Emily had asked for a third beer, I stopped drinking as it looked like I would be driving us back. I now sipped on a bottled water while she hung out with her new friends...The Hell's Angels.

Well, that's exaggerating but Wolf is a pretty rough dude and I've seen him pound a few people into the ground before. Emily has him completely charmed though.

It isn't long before more people start coming in. Emily's sweet exterior and obviously different background make her the center of attention. Most dudes are pleasant but I see a few ogling her in a not so nice way.

One dickwad, clearly drunk as hell, comes up behind her while she is bent over the pool table to take a shot and grabs on to her hips. Red clouds haze my vision and I shoot off my stool, intent on fucking this guy up ten different ways. Halfway to my target and my rage doesn't diminish even though my mind is telling me to calm down. My body isn't responding and I feel a clenching in my gut. I'm actually fearful of what I am getting ready to do, but I am not stopping until this asshole is taught a lesson.

No one touches Emily but me.

Luckily, just steps before I reach the guy, Wolf lashes out and grabs the guy around the throat. He slams him viciously into the wall and two other men quickly move in to throw the drunk out.

I turn to Emily, ready to offer some comfort, but she is just standing there with an amused expression on her face. She doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. In fact, when Wolf comes back to the pool table, she high-fives the bastard for saving her.

Shaking my head, I walk up to Wolf to tell him we have to head out. He shakes my hand and then Emily gives him a hug. He tells her to come back and party with him anytime.

Un-fucking-believable.

I ask Emily to give me her keys and soon we are headed back toward Hoboken.

"That was so much fun," Emily gushes. "Thanks boss for letting me hang out there for a bit."

I glance over at her. She has a grin a mile wide on her face.

"I don't get you," I say.

>

"What do you mean?"

"That bar is the last place in the world that Congressman Burnham's daughter would be hanging out."

She's silent for a minute while she digests what I said. "Maybe the old Emily Burnham wouldn't. But the new Emily Burnham is finding a fond appreciation of people like Wolf."

"Well," I snort. "You were certainly on the 'new experience train' back there."

"I sure was. But I'll admit I was a little afraid walking in there."

My eyebrows shoot up surprised. "Really? I never would have guessed. You have a great poker face."

"Yup. Seeing all of those motorcycles when I pulled into the parking lot, it was a little intimidating. But I knew you were in there and wouldn't let anything happen to me."

Her words are said innocently, I know that. But my stomach tenses up and I have to do some silent calming breaths. That sounds a little too much like dependency to me. No way did she need to be looking at me for care or protection.

"That Wolf is a nice guy," she continues. Her comment breaks into my thoughts. "I think I might go back and hang with him sometime."

I'm not prepared for this new wave of emotion. Something feral rises up in me and I can't even place it. "Like hell you will. That is not a place that you should to go to by yourself."

"Really? They seemed so nice."

"Don't do it, Emily," I warn. "It's not a safe place when people start getting drunk."

She doesn't say anything in response.

I continue to drive, fuming at myself that I just freaked out that Emily would look to me for protection, only to have the basic instinct to protect her rise up viscerally within me when she talked about putting herself into danger.