Chapter 11: Home Turf Danger

Emily Harper’s thumbs hovered over her phone screen for a long second before she typed the message. Quick parent update on Jake’s latest quiz? Come by around 7 if you can—Jake’s upstairs doing homework. She hit send before doubt could claw its way in, then set the phone face-down on the kitchen counter. The house smelled like the chicken she’d roasted earlier, warm garlic and rosemary still hanging in the air, mixed with the faint lemon polish she used on the counters. Normal. Safe. Exactly why her pulse was already racing.

Jake’s door was shut upstairs, the muffled thump of his video game leaking through the floorboards like distant thunder. She had changed into a simple white tank top that clung to the full curve of her breasts and a soft gray skirt that skimmed mid-thigh. Nothing underneath. The cool air of the house brushed constantly against her bare folds, keeping her slick and aware with every small movement. When the doorbell rang ten minutes later she jumped, then forced herself to walk calmly to the front door.

Mark stood on the porch in a casual button-down and dark jeans, looking every inch the respectable principal. His eyes flicked down her body once, slow and hungry, before he stepped inside. The second the door clicked shut behind him they were on each other. His mouth found hers in a deep, urgent kiss, tongues sliding hot and urgent while his hands slid under the tank top to cup her bare breasts, thumbs dragging over nipples already stiff and aching. Emily moaned softly into his mouth, pressing forward, the familiar scent of his skin—clean soap and something darker, masculine—flooding her senses.

They didn’t make it past the kitchen. He lifted her onto the granite island with one smooth motion, the cool stone shocking against the backs of her thighs. Her skirt rode up instantly, exposing her completely. Mark’s gaze dropped, dark and appreciative, and he stepped between her spread legs. Two thick fingers slid straight into her without preamble, curling just right against that sensitive inner wall. Emily gripped his shoulders, nails digging in, biting her lower lip hard to keep quiet. The wet sound of his fingers moving inside her was obscenely loud in the quiet kitchen.