Emily And The Stranger

by Beverly Barton

  “There hasn’t been anyone since Stuart, and I was a virgin when we married.”

  Mitch held his breath, praying with all his might that he could be the man Emily needed tonight. “I’d want you if there’d been a hundred men.”

  “I never thought I’d have the courage...” She stood up and walked across the room, stopping in front of her bed. “I was severely injured the day Stuart died. Burning debris fell across my back. I’ve gone through numerous operations, and the doctors did all they could do.”

  “Emily, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do have to!”

  “But it must be so painful for you to remember, to relive that day, those operations.”

  “I can never forget, Mitch. Don’t you see? I live, every day, with a reminder of what happened to me. A horrible, ugly reminder.”

  With more courage than she knew she possessed, Emily loosened her robe and dropped it to the floor.

  She stood there in front of Mitch, like a precious offering before a pagan god. He had never seen anything as beautiful, as irresistible, as Emily Jordan, naked in the candlelight, her long, dark, damp hair falling over her shoulder, touching the top of one perfect breast.

  “You’re so beautiful.” His breathing ragged, his pulse pounding at breakneck speed, he stood and opened his arms to her.

  “No, I’m not beautiful.” She turned slowly, her shoulders shaking as she exposed her scarred back to the man she loved.

  From a thick line of scarred flesh just between her shoulder blades to a narrow line of heavy scar tissue across the top of her buttocks, the back side of Emily’s body bore the evidence of her pain and suffering—a visual testimony of her agony.

  “My God!” He’d done this to her. He and Randy Styles. And Loni. They were responsible for those scars, for every moment of anguish she’d known because of them.

  Reaching down to the floor, she picked up her robe and started to put it on, but before she could slip into it, Mitch grabbed her, knocking the robe from her hand. She stared up at him, her eyes dry, her expression one of resignation, as if she had long ago accepted her fate.

  “Don’t cover yourself.” He pulled her into his arms, then ran his hands up and down her arms. “You are beautiful, Emily. Your scars don’t diminish your beauty. If anything, they enhance it.”

  She tried to pull away from him. “Don’t lie to me, dammit! You were appalled when you saw my back. Admit it!”

  “I was shocked,” he said. “And I hated myself, and Randy Styles and Loni. We destroyed your life.”

  “Please let me put on my robe.” She tried again to free herself from his hold, but he held fast. “You can stay the night. In the other bedroom. I accept your offer of help.”

  “No.” He lifted her into his arms. She struggled briefly, then simply tensed her body and stared at him as he carried her across the room and laid her down, on her side, atop the crochet-lace bedspread. He removed the plaid shawl from around his waist, tossing it on the floor.

  “Mitch, what—”

  He lifted her hair, dividing it in two and draping it on each side of her shoulders. He kissed the back of her neck. She trembled from head to toe.

  “Don’t. Please don’t,” she said.

  He paid no heed to her. He caressed her shoulders, her arms; then touched her back, smoothing his fingers over the scars that covered her body. Turning her so that she could watch what he was doing to her in the dressing-table mirror, Mitch worshipped her body. Lowering his head, he kissed, licked, then kissed again, every inch of flesh that had been ravaged by the fire.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. She batted them away with her fingers. She couldn’t bear this. She couldn’t lie here and allow him to touch her this way. But dear Lord, she couldn’t move. She couldn’t make herself put a stop to the pleasure of the moment. Never had she been touched with such sweetness, such tenderness—with such love.

  She felt his breath on the hollow at the base of her spine. He kissed the scars on her buttocks, then planted a garden of tiny nipping caresses up and down the back of her thighs and calves.

  “Mitch.” She moaned his name, the heat in her rising, a hot passion consuming her.

  “If only I could kiss away the pain you endured.” He licked a trail up her spine, halting at her neck. “Don’t ever think I find your body ugly. To me it’s beautiful. Every inch of you is beautiful.” He traced the scars with his fingertips. “If anything, these scars make you more beautiful to me. Your scars are a part of you, a part of who you are, a part of what makes you such a special lady.”

  He slipped his arm beneath her, turning her ever so slowly so that their naked bodies touched. Firm, round breasts to hard, muscled chest. Sleek, slender thighs to strong, hairy legs. Femininity to masculinity.

  She looked at him, all golden man there in the candlelight, his ice-blue eyes filled with desire. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think. She could barely breathe.

  He gazed down into her warm brown eyes and knew that no power on earth could stop him from making love to this woman. Emily needed and wanted him as much as he did her. Tonight, he would make her his completely. He would keep her safe. He would ease her pain.

  “I want you,” he said, lowering his head, taking her lips in a kiss that said all that was in his heart and more.

  Emily raised her arms, circling his neck, threading her fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss. She had dreamed of this, but had never dared to hope it could happen. Mitch had seen her scars. He had called them beautiful—beautiful because they were a part of her. And now he was making love to her.

  Lifting her body up to his, she caressed his hardness with her softness, pleading, enticing, inviting.

  He touched her with the upmost gentleness, as if she were a fragile flower or a delicate piece of porcelain that he dare not handle too roughly for fear of damaging it. Bracing his body with his elbow, he rose over her, gazing down into her eyes, smiling that wonderfully seductive smile that said more than words could ever say. Her heart soared, taking flight at the sheer joy of lying beneath Mitch, of knowing and yet not knowing what was to come.

  With the fingertips of one hand, he traced the outline of her face, never taking his eyes off her. “Let me love you, Emily. Tell me that it’s all right”

  Swallowing, she nodded affirmatively and smiled at him. “It’s all right. I want you to make love to me, Mitch.”

  Neither the past nor the future existed. Only the present. Only this glorious moment, here, now, with Mitch, on the brink of ecstasy.

  Never had she felt about anyone the way she felt about Mitch. Just looking at him was a pleasure. Touching him and having him touch her took Emily’s breath away, so intense was her reaction. She had fantasized about lying naked in his arms, about knowing the power of his complete possession.

  Mitch kissed her shoulder. A soft, tender kiss. He skimmed his hand down her arm, across her breasts, over her stomach. A whispery touch. Light. Almost indiscernible. Emily shivered with the need coursing through her. Why didn’t he touch her, really touch her? As he moved his hand over the tops of her thighs, she spread her legs involuntarily, then realizing what she’d done, clamped them together.

  Mitch inserted his hand between her clenched thighs, forcing them apart. “Don’t think about what you’re doing, honey. Just react to the way you feel. To the way I make you feel.”

  Relaxing, Emily accepted his caresses. One of his hands covered her breast, kneading, pinching gently. She sighed, loving the way his thumb and fingers. stroked her mound, leisurely spreading the folds of her femininity and entering the warmth of her body. She arched up against him.

  “Easy, honey. Easy.” Lowering his head, he took one begging nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, then suckling greedily.

  “Mitch!”

  With the progressive attention to her breasts and her feminine core, Mitch brought Emily closer and closer to the brink of fulfillment. All the while whispering her name,
telling her she was beautiful.

  She exploded into a million tiny particles of satisfaction, moaning as Mitch took her mouth and moved his body up and over hers. He entered her with a hard, driving plunge while the last waves of completion claimed her. She cried out at the sensation of having him buried deep inside her, a joy she could not begin to describe.

  She clung to him, her nails biting into his buttocks as she wrapped her legs around him and moved to the rhythm he set with the steady, arousing dips in and out of her body. He groaned crude, exciting words of praise and intent while he took her higher and higher, his mouth hot on her flesh, his lips at her breasts, his teeth nipping her neck and shoulder, his hands grasping, clasping, clutching.

  Nothing existed except the two of them and the intensity of their emotions, their bodies sharing the most basic of pleasures. Only the sound of their breathing, their moans and Mitch’s occasional heated phrases blended with the constant, cascading beat of the falling rain outside the cottage.

  She tensed beneath him, her body on the edge, wavering on the precipice of fulfillment. Mitch took her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside at the exact moment he rammed into her with a force that ignited the fire of completion. She cried out, trembling convulsively. Accelerating his lunges, Mitch found his own release, pouring himself into her as he climaxed.

  Burrowing his head into her shoulder, he shuddered and groaned as Emily held him to her. He eased off her damp body to lie beside her, his arm draped across her stomach. Emily snuggled against him.

  They fell asleep in each other’s arms, their bodies replete with satisfaction, their minds dulled by the contentment that comes after making love.

  Emily awoke in the early-morning hours before dawn, finding herself lying spoon fashion, Mitch’s chest against her back, his breath warm on her neck. Glancing around the room, she noted that the candles had burned down, but most of them still glowed softly, keeping the room bathed in golden light. She eased out of Mitch’s arms and made her way down the hallway to the bathroom, not giving her robe a second thought.

  When she returned to her bedroom moments later, she found Mitch propped up on one elbow and the covers thrown back to reveal his naked body. He had a semi-erection, and Emily couldn’t take her eyes off that particular part of his anatomy. She forced herself to look up at his face. He grinned.

  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look standing there in the doorway like a framed picture highlighted by golden light?” He slipped out of bed, but didn’t make a move toward her.

  Emily stood there, one foot in the bedroom, one in the hall. She stared at Mitch Hayden, all six feet three inches of him, and was overcome by the irresistible urge to touch him, to caress those broad shoulders, that wide, muscular chest, those powerful legs. Her fingers itched to curl themselves in his chest hair, to nip at his tiny nipples, to dance down his belly and wrap themselves around him.

  She took a tentative step forward. Mitch waited, unmoving beside the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. When she stood a foot away from him, she reached out and touched his shoulder. Mitch jerked her into his arms and kissed her forcefully. She responded, returning the fierceness of his kiss.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, pretty lady.” Bending his knees lower and lower as he made his way down the front of her body, he forged a trail of damp heat from her neck to the apex between her thighs, his tongue darting in and out, flicking her intimately as she clung to his shoulders, her legs weakening.

  On his knees in front of her, Mitch backed her trembling body to the edge of the bed and eased her down, her legs dangling off the side. Parting her legs, he situated himself between them and lowered his head to reach his goal.

  Emily squirmed, burrowing her hips into the mattress, trying to escape his marauding mouth and at the same time reveling in the sensation of his tongue against her femininity. Reaching up, Mitch caressed her nipples.

  Everything inside her tightened painfully, and then released, shock waves of fulfillment washing over her. Mitch lifted her legs high, draping them around his neck, resting them on his shoulders. Grasping her hips, he pulled her forward, positioning her on the edge of the bed. With her body still quivering with spasms of release, he entered her, hard and fast. She cried out, loving the feel of him inside her.

  Embedding himself deeper and deeper, Mitch took her in a frenzy of desperate need, every male instinct within him urging him on.

  Emily felt herself soaring again, her body reaching for that ultimate high. “Yes,” she cried out. “Harder!”

  As he obeyed her command, accelerating and strengthening his thrusts, the powerful shots of release rocketed through him.

  Emily tightened around him, clutching him as she found her own satisfaction only moments afterward.

  “I love you. Oh, Mitch, I love you so!”

  Mitch fell forward, resting his head between her breasts, his mouth seeking and finding one tempting bud. She jerked away, crying out, her body overly sensitive to a mere touch.

  He laughed. She laughed. After endless moments draped together on the edge of Emily’s bed, they scurried up and under the covers. Mitch pulled her into his arms. They lay there, sated bliss spreading over them like ocean waves across the beach. Within minutes they both slept, the peaceful, exhausted sleep of lovers.

  Chapter 14

  Emily awoke alone in the bed. Finding her robe lying on the floor, she slipped into it and went out into the hallway, searching for Mitch. She found him, wearing nothing but his partially dry jeans, standing on the back of the wraparound porch.

  She watched him, his hip resting on the banisters as he gazed out at the beach. What was he thinking? she wondered. Was he thinking about her? Remembering their night together? Was he regretting what had happened?

  Emily backed up against the edge of the kitchen counter. She couldn’t just go rushing outside and throw herself into his arms. Last night had been beyond reasoning—she had ceased to think. But in the bright light of day, she knew only too well that she had to face reality.

  Mitch Hayden had made love to her and she had found heaven in his arms. Never had she known such passion, such utter and complete fulfillment.

  She had told him that she loved him. Dear Lord, she had cried out her love in the throes of passion. But not once had Mitch told her he loved her. And why should he? Emily asked herself. Despite how much he’d wanted her, how completely he had satisfied her, Mitch Hayden pitied her and their loving night had been born out of that pity and out of his overwhelming sense of guilt.

  He had tried to convince her that he found her completely beautiful, despite the hideous scars on her back. He had kissed and caressed those scars without showing any signs of revulsion. Had he looked at her disfigured flesh and felt responsible? Of course he had. Mitch Hayden was an honorable man. Time and circumstances had matured him into the man Emily loved.

  It would be so easy to accept what he was offering, and she had no doubt that he would offer her whatever her heart desired. If she wanted him to many her, he would. If she wanted him to father her children, he would. Hadn’t he told her that he’d do anything for her, even die for her?

  Swinging open the back door, Emily walked out onto the porch. Turning around when she approached, Mitch reached out, tugged on her hands and pulled her up against him. She laid her head on his naked chest, her nose tickled by his hair. She smelled the unique aroma that was Mitch, and also the undeniable scent of her own body embedded in his skin.

  He threaded his fingers through the long, tangled mane of her dark hair. “Sleep well?”

  “Yes. Did you?” Tilting her head, she looked up at him.

  “I can’t remember the last time I slept so soundly.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  “I’m afraid I can’t offer you breakfast, unless you want some cereal,” she said. “I suppose the milk in the refrigerator is still good.”

  “I have a better idea. Go get dressed, pack a bag and come stay at my place
. I’ll fix you breakfast. I can whip up a mean batch of scrambled eggs and toast, or I can make my famous western omelette.”

  Easing a few inches away from him, but allowing him to keep his arms around her, Emily laid her hand on his chest. “You want me to stay with you? Move over to your cottage?”

  Mitch caressed her arms from shoulders to wrists, then took her hands into his, holding them securely between their bodies. “It’s the perfect solution for both of us.”

  “How’s that?” she asked.

  “I’m not going to let you be alone for one minute until we find out who’s behind the break-ins and the threats,” he said. “I could stay here with you, but right now you don’t have any power, and no phone, and the glass panes in your back door are broken.”

  “So you’re inviting me to stay with you until my power and phone are restored and my back door is repaired because you’re determined to play bodyguard?”

  “I want to be more than your bodyguard, pretty lady.” He lifted her arms and placed them around his neck.

  Emily’s stomach flip-flopped. “What do you want to be?”

  “Your bodyguard, your friend, but most of all, I want to be your lover. Tonight. Tomorrow night. All the nights for the rest—”

  Leaving one hand around his neck, she reached out and covered his lips with the tip of her index finger. “I’ll go get dressed and pack enough for tonight. I won’t argue with you, Mitch. I need you. But, when this business about the break-ins and the threats is over, you and I have some important things to settle between us.”

  “I thought we did that last night.” He kissed her finger that hovered over his lips.

  “Last night was special. I’ll never forget it.”

  “Hey, you make it sound as if it’ll never happen again, and I’m here to tell you that—” he jerked her back into his arms, pressing her against his aroused body “—last night was just the beginning for us.”

  Twenty minutes later after phoning Nikki to tell her about the break-in last night and that she’d be late for work, Emily stood at the kitchen counter in Mitch’s beachfront cottage. She’d convinced Mitch to leave the cooking to her. Deftly mixing together the ingredients for pancakes, she began preparations for their breakfast while Mitch showered and shaved.