Have Mercy: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance by Shelley Ann Clark

pressed against the side of his neck and she was rubbing her cheek against his scratchy two-day beard.
    Emme hadn’t intended to rest her head on Tom’s shoulder, or to snuggle up next to him in the booth. She’d planned to tease and tempt and torment him; she wasn’t sure when that impulse had given over to the need for full-body contact. When the country-pop song on the jukebox ended and Patsy Cline’s voice came over the speakers, she hummed along, feeling the vibration of her own voice shiver through Tom’s body and echo back into hers where they were pressed together.
    Tom thumped his hip against hers. “Scootch.”
    Emme climbed out of the booth and Tom followed, taking her hand. She wasn’t sure what he intended, at first, but when he pulled her close to him, she protested. “Bad dancer,” she reminded him.
    One big, warm hand clasped her waist, pulling her body into his until they stood hip to hip. “I’m strong enough to lead,” he whispered. “Relax.”
    She thought it would be hard to trust him but it wasn’t. She stopped thinking about her feet and instead leaned into him, face pressed into his neck, as he guided her. A change of pressure of his hand told her which direction to go; a slight pull and push had her turning under his arm. To her surprise, he caught her back against him without either of them missing a step.
    “See?” he said smugly. “Told you you’d just been dancing with the wrong guys.”
    “Shh,” she admonished. “Don’t talk. I’m trying to enjoy dancing with this really hot guy.”
    Tom smiled but didn’t answer, pulling her close enough to feel the hot length of his erection pressing against her lower belly. She loved feeling his arousal, a counterpoint to the slow sweetness of their dance together. She wanted something hot and hard and fierce from him but tempered by his sweetness. She wanted to draw it out of him, keep him safe in her hands, then push him until he gave in to her.
    As the last few notes of the song faded, she reached up, cupping the back of his neck with her hand. He bent down toward her with the slightest pressure of her hand against him, reading her cues perfectly. She skated her lips over his ear gently before whispering, “I am going to make you beg tonight.”
    The heat in Tom’s eyes when she pulled away from him raised goose bumps all over her body. “Please,” he said, and then he smiled.

Chapter Seven
    Somehow, Emme managed not to touch him on the walk back to their hotel from the restaurant, focusing instead on the islands of light in the parking lot, the empty darkness of the interstate connector road, the whoosh of air-conditioning as the sliding doors to the lobby opened. She kept herself on the opposite side of the elevator for the trip up to her room.
    By the time her key card opened the lock, her mind had created and discarded a thousand fantasies, enough to fill all the nights of a lifetime, and she could barely decide how to start.
    It was her own imaginings that undid her in the end. By the time that little green light flashed on the door handle, she could only think
yes
and
now
and
finally
. She had him backed against the door almost before it shut behind them.
    Tom’s mouth was soft against hers, his lips opening for her when she traced them with her tongue. His head thudded back against the door and she slid her hands up his neck, behind his head, holding him in place and protecting him from the hard wood of the door. Tom’s hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer to his body as she slid the edge of her teeth along his bottom lip.
    The scruff along Tom’s neck scratched at her tongue as Emme licked a path from his shoulder to a spot behind his ear that made him shudder. He gasped when she wound her fingers in his hair and tugged hard enough to pull his head back so she could kiss his Adam’s apple.
    But when Tom cupped her ass in his broad hands, pulling her close enough to feel his erection grinding against her,