Wake Me Up (Love Knows No Boundaries)

by Michelle Horst

  “I’m not just standing here,” he whispers. He takes a step, closing the distance between us. I feel his chest press lightly against mine, and it’s not nearly enough. “I’m standing right here and I’m touchin’ you.” His hands slip back up to my neck, framing my jaw. “And I’m thinking how honored I am feeling right now that I’m the only one that’s touched you in such a way.”

  Oh … WOW. I really, really need to start keeping quiet now. I’m on a roll with saying the wrong thing.

  ~*~

  I revert to actions. Actions speak louder than words.

  I slip my one hand beneath his shirt, pressing my fingertips lightly to his abs. I feel his muscles tighten and I take it as an encouraging sign. I place my other hand on the back of his, and trace it all the way up his arm to his shoulder, and back to his hand. I’m just taking in the feel of his skin against mine.

  The air tightens between us, growing heavy with a yearning that’s begging to be answered. He eases his palms against my face, and finally his eyes lock on my mouth.

  “Five hours later I still want to undress you, Emma,” he says.

  He leans down until he’s a breath away from my mouth, and it ignites tiny fires inside me.

  “I don’t see any people,” I encourage him.

  To speed things along, I start pulling up his shirt. If this is not showing him what I want, then I’ll never get through to him. I let his shirt fall to the floor. I take in the flawless art that’s his chest. I lift myself to the height I need to reach the curve of his neck, right where the curl of ink starts, and I press a soft kiss onto his warm skin.

  “You really should have thought of that before you brought me here,” I whisper, pressing another kiss lower down, just above the crown of the eagle’s head.

  I’ve never seen anything more gorgeous than the man in front of me. I breathe a trail to the middle of his chest, right below his neck, and press a kiss on another curl of ink. I’m not so sure what I’m doing, I just hope it’s working. I glance up from under my lashes, and my insides tighten satisfyingly. His eyes have darkened from their normal slate gray to that striking charcoal.

  And then, as Murphy’s Law would have it, a little voice starts to whisper to hold on, to wait, as much as I want this I should maybe wait. (The little voice must be bloody nutters!) He looks really edible-yummy, and if I’m going to get over this V-bump I’d really like it to be with him.

  And so the internal struggle starts for the survival of my virginity. I really don’t need an internal struggle right now!

  I drop my eyes quickly so he won’t pick it up, and I resume my attempt to seduce him, more impassioned because I’m trying to prove myself wrong as well. I’m ready; I just have to keep telling myself this.

  I’m so, so ready. I’ve been ready since the dark ages.

  I keep trailing my fingers over his abs, and press feather-light kisses along his tattoo. I could worship his body the whole night long. I intend to.

  His hands dig into my hips, and when he lifts me against him with quite a bit of force, a breath rushes from me. I wrap my legs around his waist, and I can feel how much he wants me. There’s a sweet tightening in my abdomen, and I dig my nails into his back.

  It worked. What I did worked!

  Nervous excitement bubbles through me as he moves quickly into the house, back to his room. I continue to tempt him as best I can with the little experience I have, using everything I’ve read. (Those romance novels are coming in handy now.)

  I brush my mouth up to his neck, where I nip at the skin just beneath his ear. His arm around me tightens, a lot, but only for a second, because he lets go of me and my back hits the mattress. The nervous excitement doubles, and a rush of heated exhilaration washes through me as he towers over me.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks hoarsely.

  I nod, smiling brightly. I am, and I haven’t finished with him.

  I slide out from under him and get onto my knees in the middle of the bed, so I can take control. Or at least, he’s allowing me to.

  “I need you in the ring,” I whisper.

  I reach for the waistband of his jeans and slip my hand in. His skin is hot against my fingertips as he presses into my hand, coming closer. That sexy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “In the ring, you say.”

  His smile grows the closer he gets, until he’s right in front of me, looking down. Bloody hell, he’s gorgeous. I swallow to keep from drooling.

  “And now?” he whispers. Melting, I’m doing a lot of melting. “Now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?” It’s really a miracle I’m not a puddle of drool right now.

  He’s letting me take full control. My heartbeat shoots through the roof. I can picture it sprinting across the ocean, breaking some sort of world record.

  I’m on his bed. Again. And there’s one hot, one very sexy, one very ready man in front of me – and he wants me to take the lead, only I don’t know how to do this dance.

  He doesn’t move. I want him to move so badly.

  I revert to what I know worked before. I bring my now trembling hand to his wrist and press my fingers against his firm skin. It’s where the tattoo starts. (I might have a little obsession with his tattoo.) I slowly trail up the tribal design, and when I reach his bicep I slow even more, and move around him to face his back.

  He lowers himself into a Japanese sitting position I remember my brother doing when he used to do karate. He looks comfortable, and I continue trailing the wisps of ink curling to his back.

  There is a scar just under one jagged edge of ink, and I lean in to look more closely at it. I caress it, and know from training that it’s a bullet wound. I don’t ask how he got it. I’m not one to pry, he’ll tell me when he’s ready, but it’s unsettling to know he’s been shot. The idea of him being in any kind of danger - it strikes at my heart.

  I press a kiss to it and keep going, trying to ignore the new worry knotting in my stomach. I trace my fingers across the hard plane of his back and back up to his shoulders. I just can’t believe that I’m here with him, all this manliness at my fingertips. I lean in to his ear and breathe, hoping it will have the same effect on him that he had on me.

  He keeps as still as a bloody pillar.

  His hands are fisted on his thighs, not even his breathing alters. I move back around him and start to trail my fingers down from the base of his neck, down, down, down.

  Nothing.

  Either I’m daft and just not seeing it, or I’m just not doing it for him.

  But I’m not going to beg again. I’d rather take the little pride I have left and make a run for it, but begging – bloody hell no! I move to get off the bed, but his arm snakes around my waist, drawing me back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His eyes are clouded over. He had them closed and I couldn’t see. I sit back and stare.

  “You weren’t reacting,” I deadpan.

  “Because I’m trying really hard to not just throw you down,” he groans, and pulls me up against him. “I’m trying to let you figure out what you want.”

  He takes hold of my shirt and drags it over my head. With one movement he unclasps my bra.

  “I thought I’d let you take the lead, but,” he whispers, his hands brushing down the sides of my breasts and waist, to my jeans, sending streaks of electric pulses rushing through my body, “I think I’ll take over now, if you don’t mind.”

  I nod. I’m nodding. That sounds good. Very good.

  His head drops to my breast, and I go down with a moan.

  ~*~

  Chapter Ten

  Aiden~

  I sat and I listened. I fought hard to keep my anger in. I don’t know how it feels not to be loved, so I can’t possibly know how she feels. I’ve never in my life met someone more alone than Emma. I still have to process half of what she told me. Not now, though, now I’m confused as hell.

  There was a time it would
’ve been easy, but not with her. I can’t just take her to bed and have meaningless sex and then we go on as if life is just peachy. My body, mind and heart are busy having a triathlon as I reach for her pants. It’s just all over the place. My mind is telling me to stop, wait, think this through. My body is telling me to go for it, I want her so bad it aches, and my heart is running around like a damn headless chicken.

  She wants this. I want this. We want this.

  This is my body’s argument that makes this right.

  She’s emotional. I’m an ass for not taking this slower. This is not the right time.

  My mind is such a dumbass.

  I slip her jeans off. Dammit, she’s hot in those boy shorts she wears. They hug her just right. I move over her and let my eyes drink her in. There is so much perfection in front of me, I have to taste her. I bring my hands to her face, slipping the tips of my fingers into her hair, feeling the silkiness. Her breaths are fast against my mouth. Just an inch and I’ll taste her again, but then I know there won’t be any stopping me. If I taste her now, I’ll want all of her.

  I glance at her eyes and there’s desire, but there’s hesitation, too. The hesitation makes me think twice, but before I can pull back, she slams into me. Her mouth opens and her sweet tongue plunges into mine, dazing my senses. I’m back to teetering on the edge of heaven’s bliss, and it now has a name – Emma.

  She reaches for the snap of my jeans and I hear the zip go. I should slow her down, but I can’t, this is just too incredible. She nudges me onto my back and tugs my jeans off. Before my mind can try to resume some sort of control she crawls over me, naked.

  She straddles me and I feel her heat, and it’s right about then that reason and reality leave the room. My blood rushes down to where she is and then she moves – hell yeah, I’m going to die with a one way ticket straight to heaven’s gates.

  I take hold of her slender hips to hold her still. She’s overestimating me. It’s been a long time.

  “Emma,” I grind out her name between my teeth.

  But she doesn’t listen, and presses back against my hands again. I tighten my grip on her, not too much. I don’t want to hurt her.

  “Aiden,” she moans, and she leans forward until her breasts brush against my chest.

  Oh. Dammit.

  Something in my brain misfires, and all communication to the rest of my body is lost. ALL my blood and air rush to one point. I wrap my arm around her and roll her onto her back. This way I’ll have more control, I think. I can’t think with the pounding of my heart in my ears.

  She moves her hips up against me, and I have to drop my head to her neck to fight for some self-control. Then her hands move to my back and her fingers dig into my skin. I lift my head and glare down at her.

  “I’m trying real hard to go slow.” It comes out a growl of need.

  “Don’t,” she moans, and presses her mouth to mine, urging me on again.

  Everywhere I touch her is hot, silky skin. I reach down for her hips, to position her, because I just can’t be that nice guy any more.

  I press against her, and her mouth stills against mine. I rest my elbows on either side of her head, and I kiss her one more time.

  “Are you ready?” I don’t know where I get the strength to ask, but I have to.

  “Please, Aiden, please,” she all but begs me, and it’s all I need.

  I roll my hips forward and my vision goes spotty. Her breathing stops, and she ducks her face into my neck as her body goes tense under mine. I stop, waiting as the need to move tears through my insides. Maybe I should just go fast, but I don’t want to hurt her, or does going slower hurt more?

  She doesn’t relax under me. No melting. I can’t see her face, so that doesn’t help either.

  “Are you okay?” I give in and groan the words out.

  She nods against me. “Keep going,” she breathes over my chest, and I decide to go with fast. I’d want fast, if it was hurting.

  I press into her, and she gasps and quivers. Her arms tightens around me, her nails digging in hard. Again I don’t move because OH, she’s tight, and I need a moment to just breathe. She feels amazing.

  She drags her nails down the length of my back and my body reacts, slamming in harder. For a second time my vision goes spotty, and I take a few seconds to breathe it away. Then I lift myself up, taking hold of her hip with one hand. I move my other hand under her shoulder, digging my fingers into her soft skin.

  Her eyes are glazed over when she looks up at me. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. I crush her mouth under mine the second I start to move out.

  She shudders in my hands and it’s damn hot, feeling her respond this way. Every time I move into her, her body quivers more, tightening around me.

  Her moans are sweet, but her cries are my undoing. When she cries my name I’m no longer falling, but soaring. I tense over her, digging my fingers into her, and taking the one thing that was hers.

  I don’t feel satisfied as I slump back down on top of her, knowing I just took her virginity. I didn’t tell her words of love. I didn’t whisper to her how precious she is.

  It feels - I feel like I used her.

  ~*~

  She’s gone into the bathroom, and it feels awkward as hell. I dress fast, and head back out to the deck. It feels all wrong. I should’ve said something. I should’ve held her. I can’t believe I treated Emma like that, especially after what she told me. She doesn’t need another person using her, and that is exactly what I did.

  I don’t know where to start to fix it.

  There’s no food in the cottage, so I’m thinking we should head out. Being around people might help ease the awkwardness away, because watching the waves roll in sure isn’t helping much.

  She’s been inside a while when I decide to go check on her. Only she’s nowhere in the cottage.

  I don’t know if she has her phone with her, and then I realize I don’t even have her number, so it won’t matter if she has the thing. I still can’t phone her. I lock up after making sure I didn’t miss her, and head to the car.

  Would she go back to the apartment? What would I do if I were in her shoes? Damn, I don’t know. But I don’t want to leave, in case she comes back.

  So now I sit staring at the dark cottage. Some great detective I am. Some great date she’s having.

  I slam my fist against the wheel, and decide to drive around. She can’t have gotten that far.

  Never, ever, and I mean, never underestimate the speed-walking abilities of an upset woman. She walked far. Maybe she ran. The thought doesn’t sit well with me. It actually upsets the crap out of me to think we just had sex and she feels it’s better to run than to face me.

  I put the car in park and get out, but she keeps going. She doesn’t even look around. I jog to catch up.

  “Emma?” I really don’t know how to start this conversation. The last time we had one next to the road it turned out to be disastrous.

  “Just go,” she whispers.

  I grab for her arm, pulling at her to stop. She’s been crying, and it makes me feel even worse. She does that thing where she looks down. It really grates at my gut when she does that.

  I have to lean in to hear her when she whispers. “When I asked you last Friday, why did you say yes?”

  Her body’s trembling, and it’s definitely not from the aftershocks of our having sex.

  “Because I didn’t want to see your face on my missing screen the next day. I’d rather take you home and make sure you get in bed safely,” I answer honestly. That was my honest-to-God intention when I agreed, but that’s not the only reason any more. “Emma-”

  She nods hard and yanks free, stepping away from me. When she takes a breath it’s a strangled one, and then she nods again. She straightens herself out, and her face goes blank. There’s no emotion.

  “Don’t do that. Let’s talk about this.” I have to talk. I don’t know how to keep quiet. I have to sort things out. Since Laurie was taken
away from me I don’t leave things undone, I live for the moment.

  She takes a step around me and walks back to the car. I should be relieved, at least she’s in the car, but I’m not, because she looks like a zombie, and I feel responsible.

  The drive back to Chapel Hill is long. I need to think everything through, find a way to make it better. The silence in the car keeps building, and all she does is stare out the window.

  ~*~

  Zombie-Emma. It’s like living with the risen dead. I’m used to communicating, not this – whatever this is.

  For the past two weeks, when I come back from my run she’s gone already. We hardly see each other. When we do, she doesn’t speak. She barely eats. When I ask if she wants something, she declines in this proper way, as if she’s scared I’ll snap at her. I don’t know if she’s eating at the university. This whole thing is driving me crazy.

  I almost lost the fight last Saturday, because all I could think of was her. It took me forever to get Joe off of me, and my side better be right by next Saturday’s fight or it’s going to be an uncomfortable one. That elbow he got in on me a few times did more damage than I’d care to admit. At least the bruising is starting to fade.

  After taking a shower to loosen my muscles, I head into the kitchen to grab a water bottle. Emma’s been coming home later and later every day, and I don’t want to think why. I try not to.

  I’m about to head back to my room when she comes in. She closes the door and turns around, and then she freezes, her arms filled with books.

  Her eyes scan over me, and they widen as she can’t miss the bruising on my side. I cringe when the books hit the floor and her brow creases, she looks like she’s going to cry.

  “You’re hurt?” It’s the first words she’s spoken to me since that Friday. Well, her first own words. “You had a fight?” She walks over to me. Her face comes alive with worry.

  Nothing could prepare me for her touch. It’s like lightning stiking when her fingers probe at my ribs. I flinch, not because it hurts, but because it’s too much. She can’t just touch me and I can’t touch her back. We can’t touch each other with everything that’s unsaid between us.