Once washed up and changed into her pajamas, she climbed into bed and settled. Two seconds later the soft ticking of Marla’s nails on the wood floor followed and the enormous dog bounded into bed with her, rocking the mattress like a life raft in a typhoon.
Warm and soft, she curled into Emma’s side and let out a contented snuffle. Emma smiled. She hadn’t expected to love again so quickly, nor had she expected a dog to be the focus of her affection. If anything, Marla was loyal and that was something Emma could appreciate—something that deserved love.
Chapter Six
The afternoon sun warmed his face as he relaxed on the picnic blanket. Voices carried over the soft breeze as people wandered across the grass. The dog appeared quite happy to learn there was a park so close to her new home.
Emma sighed. “I’ve been thinking we should put signs up with Marla’s picture in case her real owners are looking for her.”
Riley watched as Emma played a slow game of toss with the dog, which was now called Marla. They’d left their number with the local vets and pet store, but hadn’t heard anything. “That’s probably the right thing to do.” But imagining someone taking the cuddly brown animal away wasn’t easy. One sign should do the trick, one sign, hung upside down on a payphone, by the far East Side.
“Marla, fetch!” she tossed the pink tennis ball from where she sat on the grass. Everything the dog owned was pink, which made the morning walks a test of masculine security. But Emma was happy and, strangely, that made him happy.
“I don’t see what was wrong with the name Stimpy.”
“Stimpy was ugly.”
“And you named her Marla after...”
“Marla Hooch from League of Their Own,” she mumbled.
“Oh, and she was a looker.”
“Shut up. Her name is Marla.”
He grinned.
There were so many hidden parts of Central Park. It was nice to take the time to enjoy the open space. Having a dog gave them an excuse to lounge around in the grass and sun and still believe they were accomplishing something, because dogs needed exercise.
“My sister comes back tomorrow.”
“I know. She’s going to freak out when she finds out we have a dog.”
He worried Emma might forget about him when Rarity returned. “Do you think things will be different when she comes home?”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged, trying not to appear overly concerned. “I don’t know. Us hanging out, you and Rarity doing your thing.”
“We could all hang out together.”
“Sure,” he agreed, but that wasn’t the same.
Once Rarity returned, Emma would have her best friend around for all her little adventures and feats. She’d confide in Rarity and sooner or later he’d just be the roommate again.
Marla returned, dropped the saturated ball on the grass, and collapsed beside them. Emma filled a tiny pink travel bowl with bottled water.
“There you go, baby.”
The dog panted and lapped up the entire offering then nestled beside them on the quilt.
He eased back and made a pillow of the dog and Emma did the same. Clouds drifted overhead and there was a quiet moment of peace shared between the three of them.
“That one looks like a sailboat.” She pointed to the sky.
“This is what our conversations have reduced to, cloud watching?”
Nose wrinkled, she grouched, “What’s wrong with cloud watching?”
“Nothing. It just means we have nothing else in common to talk about. It’s sad really, the death of intrigue between new friends.”
“Aren’t you in a dark mood.”
“No, I’m not. I’d just prefer more stimulating conversation than ‘Oh, that one looks like a dinosaur’.”
“Fine. What’s your greatest fear,” she asked and he grinned at the challenge.
“Ice age. Era not movie.”
“An ice age, really?”
“Yes, really. And don’t roll your eyes. More are coming. They decapitate mountains and cover the earth in sheets of ice eight times the height of the Empire State Building. You’d never survive one.”
She laughed. “And you would?”
“I’d have a better shot than you. It’s just the nature of the beast. I’m a survivor. You’d be in a heap on the floor watching Hugh Grant movies while hugging a pillow.”
She smacked his arm. “I should probably be insulted.”
“But?”
“You’re probably right.”
He chuckled. “Now, a zombie apocalypse, that you might have a shot at surviving.”
“Because it’s totally improbable?”
“Oh, zombies are real and when they come, I’ll be ready. Get yourself a crossbow and some sturdy boots and I might let you join my regiment.”
“You’re a moron.”
He faced her. “What’s your biggest fear?” Her eyes were closed, the sun painting her cheeks in a soft gold hue.
“That I’ll never be enough.”
His brow creased. She’d lost him. “Enough for what?”
“Someone’s love... trust, loyalty... everything that’s worth anything. I want to be worth something.”
“You are.” He scowled. How could she believe she was worthless?
“I mean, by just being myself. I’m so tired of pushing to be more than I actually am. We have to be so much. It’s a lot of pressure and I always feel like I’m coming up short no matter how hard I try. I wish it was enough to just be me.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re afraid of zombies and ice ages.”
“Touché.” He studied her for a long moment. “I think you’re just fine the way you are, Em.”
“It’s only natural to want to improve.”
“True, but work with what you got. Don’t go trying to redefine everything you are. You’re an awesome person. If you change too much, people will miss the real Emma and she’s something great.”
She turned and their eyes locked. Something tightened low in his gut as everything inside of him insisted he look away, but he was trapped there, under her close, compelling stare. The breeze passed overhead, intensifying the scent of grass and her delicately perfumed hair. She always smelled so clean, like cotton and sunshine.
“Are you hungry?” she whispered, but her eyes seemed to be saying something different.
He swallowed. “Yeah. I could eat.”
“We should eat.”
The sudden urge to lean close and take a nibble of her plump lower lip took hold of him and he jolted upright, his body sending all sorts of haywire signals to his lower regions. Shit.
Where the hell were these urges coming from? Rubbing his face roughly with his palms, he groaned and thought of the unsexiest place to get food in the city. “Wanna go to Flushing and grab some Chinese? They sell gizzards on sticks.”
“Queens?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure. But I’m not eating gizzard.” She sat up and the dog lifted her head. “We should probably take Marla back to the loft first. She’s tired.”
Nodding, he stood and busied himself with gathering the blanket and dog toys. Emma fumbled with getting her shoes on and he stilled, transfixed by her pudgy little toes.
Dear God, he was chubbing up—chubbing up over Emma—which was abso-freaking-lutely not okay. Turning away, he stuffed anything and everything into their bag.
As soon as he had their stuff packed he started walking at a clipped pace toward home.
“Riley, wait up. I have shorter legs than you.”
He shut his eyes as his mind filled with images of her little, curvy legs. Christ, even the thought of her deformed baby toe was doing things to him.
“I have to use the bathroom,” he lied, deciding that was the best excuse for walking ahead of her.
“Are you sick?”
His mind was definitely playing sick tricks on him at the moment. “Yes. Sick.”
 
; “Okay, well, you go. Marla and I will catch up,” she yelled from several yards behind.
He didn’t need any more encouragement. The entire way home he jockeyed his way through crowds of pedestrians and practically sprinted over crosswalks and through alleyways. What the hell was wrong with him?
It was like a switch was flipped and he could no longer separate Emma his friend from Emma the delicious little cupcake he wanted to nibble. When he made it to the loft he tossed the bag of dog toys on the floor and went to the bathroom.
Staring at his sweaty reflection, he grit his teeth. “Knock it off.”
His breathing gradually slowed as he stared at himself, degrading every baser instinct he possessed until the storm finally settled and he was back to normal. Then the front door opened.
“Riley?”
His gaze dropped to his jeans. “Damn it,” he hissed. “In the bathroom.” He quickly locked the door.
The dog’s nails scrabbled along the wood floor. He couldn’t go out there like this. Emma tapped on the door. “Do you need anything?”
His eyes closed as his head fell back and he silently groaned. “No. I’m good.”
“You’re sure? I have antacids and some stuff for cramps.”
He laughed without humor. “No, I think I’ll be okay.” His dick just needed to chill.
“How about some tea?” That voice... “I can put some ginger in it—”
“I’m okay, Emma! Just...give me a minute. Please.” He shouldn’t have snapped.
“Okay. I’m right here if you need anything.”
Did she have to be so damn nice? Maybe a cold shower would help. Swallowing, he let out a long breath and turned on the water. After stripping off his clothes he climbed under the icy spray and gasped. “Fuck, that’s cold!”
He adjusted the taps, unable to withstand torture below a lukewarm seventy degrees, and glowered at his rock hard cock.
Grandma. Grandma in a bikini. Grandma in a bikini eating tapioca pudding without her dentures. That was working.
Suddenly the image flipped to smooth ivory skin and a familiar birthmark in the shape of a strawberry. That was Emma’s birthmark. He noticed it when she was in a tank top. Sometimes her bra strap covered it, but every once in a while he’d get a peek at it.
Fuck. He was hard again.
Taking matters into hand, he pumped his fingers over his flesh. He needed to get laid, that was all. He squeezed, almost painfully, trying to think of any woman besides Emma. It was impossible.
Soft, blonde curls that smelled like summer wind clouded his mind. Those naturally pink lips, pert and smooth. Those big brown eyes so full of trust and innocence. He imagined all of it, damn him.
He violated their friendship so severely in those passing seconds, imagining his fingers knotting in her hair as those full lips closed over his flesh, those big, virtuous eyes staring up at him.
He cursed, bracing his arm on the slick tile of the wall as his release shot from his pulsing veins and his entire body shuddered under the force of temporary relief. Panting hard, he tried to remember a time he was that turned on. It didn’t matter that he’d masturbated to completion. He was still twisted in knots, raring to go. He wanted her. “Fuck!”
Rinsing off, he stood in the cooling steam a while after he shut off the water, shivering. Mind over matter. Whatever this was, it would pass. He’d ignore it, because Emma was his friend and he didn’t want to ruin that. Plus, if he crossed that line his sister would castrate him. Yes, there would be absolutely no fornicating with Emma.
He’d been in the bathroom for an embarrassingly long time, which worked in his favor. Explosive diarrhea—imagined or otherwise—was about as far from sexy as one could get.
Climbing back into his clothes, he buffed his hair dry with the towel, and prepared to face the music. Cautiously, he turned the knob and stepped in the hall.
She stood up from the couch. “Are you okay? You were in there a really long time.”
His heart pounded and his blood thickened. There was no hope. “I’m...sort of having a problem right now.” It was unbelievable. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Why now? They were fine an hour ago.
Noticing his discomfort, she took a step forward.
He held out a hand. “Stay back! It might be contagious.”
“Do you need a doctor? Something from the pharmacy?”
His hand trembled. “Just...stop. For the love of God, stop...talking.”
Taken aback, she stilled and he regretted his choice of words, as her expression turned wounded. “I’m only trying to help.”
“I know.” He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, facing the wall so she wouldn’t notice his situation. “That’s the problem.”
She scoffed. “Fine. I won’t help.”
Glancing to his left, he tried to say something, but his words got distracted when he looked at her. She no longer wore shoes. The bottom of her thighs peeked out beneath her little white dress. He could have a hundred fantasies about that tiny dimple above her knee.
Jesus, what was wrong with him? Taking a deep breath, he pulled his attention away from her legs.
His mouth went dry as his stare focused on her breasts. Soft and round. He bet her nipples were the same deep peach as her lips. Oh, and what color would her other hidden parts be? He swayed as dizziness came over him.
“Riley?”
Shit. He was going to explode if he didn’t get out of there. “Emma...”
She took a few quick steps toward him. “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor? You’re sweating.” She tsked. “I’m calling the doctor.”
“Wait!” Trembling, he released a shaky breath. “I...” Forking his fingers through his hair, he squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not sick.”
“Well, something’s wrong with you.”
“Definitely. Emma, don’t hate me...”
“Why would I hate you?”
She touched a hand to his arm and he whimpered. Giving up, he blurted, “I’m having really inappropriate thoughts about you right now and I can’t make them stop!”
Everything stilled. The apartment fell into utter silence, the ticking of the living room wall clock tapping with the subtlety of a hammer.
“What?” she croaked.
“I’m sorry. It came out of nowhere. I’m totally freaked out and trying not to think of you that way, but I can’t stop.”
When she didn’t respond, he chanced a glance at her. Her breath was labored, but slow, each pull of air lifting her breasts against the cotton fabric of her dress. He looked away.
“You’re...having fantasies? About me?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Like what? Maybe we should talk about it.”
He really wanted to undo the top button of his jeans, get some breathing room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why? We’re adults. We’re friends. We can talk about...that.”
Visions of holding her plush thighs open as he dragged his tongue up her pink flesh filled his mind. “No,” he said, voice strained. “Talking would definitely be bad.”
She tsked and laced her fingers with his, tugging him toward the living room. “Don’t be silly, Riley.” A thousand volts of electricity shot up his arm as she pulled. “Come sit down and—”
He yanked her back and pinned her to the wall. “You’re not listening, Emma. I don’t want to talk.” He ground his hips into her soft belly and she gasped. “Feel that? That’s what talking to you did to me. I’m telling you, I think we should put some distance between us until things settle down and go back to normal.”
Her gentle brown eyes went wide as she stared up at him. Slowly, she licked her lips. “Riley,” she rasped.
He groaned. His name on her lips was an unfinished caress that ended in private pain. She didn’t understand the affect she was suddenly having on him. “Emma, you don’t—”
“You’re turning me on.”
Every good intentio
n vanished. Nostrils flared, he breathed in her feminine scent. “What?”
Her lips parted as she breathed, staring up at him with dark, lust filled eyes. “I’m aroused. The moment you said you were thinking about me that way, my body just—” His mouth crashed over hers, silencing her ramblings as he stabbed his tongue deep between her lips and tasted heaven.
Sweet, like coconut, her kisses were the perfect blend of temperance and lust. She gripped the side of his face, pulling him closer and he growled, unable to get enough. They were frantic, unstoppable, raw, desperate. No kiss had ever been so frenzied.
Her small form cushioned his body as he pressed her into the wall. Frantic need took hold of him, burning hot and fast like brushfire. Everything inside of him demanded he move and move fast.
“Let me take you to bed,” he whispered over her lips, giving voice to everything he wanted in that moment.
“Yes.” Her fist tightened in his hair. “Please.”
Her legs lifted to his hips and he cupped her sweet little ass, excitement tunneling through his veins. Oh, he and that ass were going to be good friends by the end of the night. Her mouth detoured to his neck as he toddled them to his room. Opening the door he frowned at the clutter.
Recalling her crisply made bed, he pivoted and headed to her bedroom, not stopping until he was dropping her on the floral comforter and catching his weight above her.
She smiled, her hair a wild spray of mad curls. God, she was beautiful.
“Are you sure about this? There’s no taking it back,” he warned. Please don’t ask me to stop.
Not a glimmer of concern showed in her eyes. Reaching down, she grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted until it slipped off her shoulders. “No going back now,” she whispered.
His breath caught in his throat. Emma was naked, naked and lying beneath him in nothing but her bra and undies. The intensity of the moment hit him and he froze. This was different from every other sexual encounter.
“Are you sure?” she asked when he hesitated too long.
Slowly nodding, he swallowed. There was no doubt he wanted her. The depth his wanting traveled frightened him. “Yeah. It’s just... You’re different, Emma. You’re important. I don’t want to ruin anything.”