I’m downstairs.
She blew out a breath. That was fast. Emery walked gingerly down the stairs barefoot, her feet pulsing painfully with every step. As she stood in front of the door to let Tim in, she wiggled her toes and took in his gray cable knit sweater and a matching wool cap pulled down over his brown hair and ears. The September air carried the hint of the fall. He was looking toward the street and she drank him in without him noticing. His features were too perfect; she needed something to be really wrong with this guy. When he glanced toward the door and saw she was standing there staring at him, he smirked.
Emery opened the door and stepped back, letting him in. He entered quickly, his entire body moving like he was shaking off the cold.
“I know, it’s so cold for September! I was wearing shorts last week,” Emery said, making small talk. She was really bad at small talk.
Tim opened his mouth to respond, but then his eyes changed, darkening as he obviously took in the camisole she’d been wearing under her suit and her bare feet.
The few seconds he looked her over seemed to last hours and they twisted and turned in her mind. His eyes scorched her skin with something she couldn’t determine and it made her take a step back from him. Then he looked down at her left arm and the moment broke in two and clattered on the floor.
“Emma, I—”
“Thank you so much for bringing over this food. You definitely didn’t have to do this,” she cut him off. “I really just want to get in bed, so it’s awesome that I don’t even have to pour cereal, which is probably what I would’ve done.”
“You’re welcome.” He took a step toward her and closed the gap she’d created.
“Tim, I know you didn’t have to help me today. Thank you.” She moved to open the door again so that she let him out, but he put his hand on her left forearm. The touch was exactly what she needed after the last 24 hours. She wanted to touch someone—anyone. She was so lonely. Emery was desperate for this sort of connection, but she knew she couldn’t have it. She pulled her arm back from him.
He moved with her, not letting her separate them. “Emma, let me talk to you while you eat.”
He was still touching her and she wanted him to continue to touch her. Emery closed her eyes and shook her head. “This is a stupid, stupid idea.”
Tim’s mouth turned up and he leaned into her ear. “I think this is one of the best ideas I’ve ever had.”
“Tim.” Her breath caught in her throat as he ran his fingertips over her scars. There was something so intimate about that one touch that it stole her breath. She couldn’t help it when her nipples made what she was feeling apparent to anyone in the room.
She moved the plate he’d brought to her so she could cover herself.
“We’ll just talk, Emma.”
There was something about him that made her calm and comfortable, which scared her because she didn’t know him. There was something else that made her so turned on she knew she needed to stay away from him. Without a word, she turned and walked up the stairs.
She voxed Rachel as she was driving to a school for an observation.
“What do you mean he just came up and talked to you while you ate?” Rachel asked, incredulous.
“I mean exactly that.” Emery blinked back the tears that threatened for no reason.
“You mean he was a perfect gentleman?”
“Perfect,” she confirmed.
“Then he left? He didn’t try to kiss you?”
“Nope.” Emery had been both relieved and disappointed that Tim really did just talk to her, but she knew it was for the best.
He’d filled her in on his family. They were from around the surrounding area. His parents died when he was twelve. He hadn’t told her how or why, but Emery felt like there was a story there, one that drove him to be a police officer. She knew about secrets, about things that she’d never tell anyone else. He hadn’t pushed her for any information other than work stuff, and it was all light conversation on her end. She didn’t have to lie at all last night. It made her feel whole in a way she hadn’t felt since Nashville.
It left her shaken.
“Did you want him to be perfect?”
“I wanted him to take my clothes off and touch me everywhere,” she admitted. “I’m glad he was perfect.”
“Well, will you see him again?”
“I have to see him often because of work, so it’s probably best to stay perfectly friends.”
“Oh.” Disappointment filled Rachel’s voice.
“Also, he left the plate for the food so I’ll have to get it back to him.”
“My man!” Derrick’s voice came over the phone, laughing.
“What?” Emery asked, mortified he’d just heard her say she wanted a guy to strip her clothes off.
“You think he doesn’t have paper plates?”
“What does that have—oh!” It dawned on Emery that he’d have to come back for the plate.
“Yep, now you’ll have to bring it to him or he could always swing by and get it from you.” She could hear the smile in Derrick’s voice.
“Strategery…” Rachel piped up mockingly.
I need my plate.
It’d been two weeks since Tim had so graciously brought her one of the best meals she’d ever eaten. It was a Saturday morning and Emery was sitting at her table looking out at the backyard, her journal open to her current entry. Coffee was necessary this morning. Her days ran together lately and she’d been working at night as well. Her phone dinged again.
Really, I need it.
She laughed in spite of herself. Picking up her phone, she glanced down at the letter she’d written.
I
Noah,
Today is a good day. I returned a kid to his family yesterday; it was a wondrous occasion. There was a party and the family was so happy to have him back and they got him back because of me. I helped someone. I have some value. I know this may seem simple to you, but ever since I can remember, I haven’t felt like I have any value. Rationally, I know that I have value. You valued me. I ruined that. Rachel values me, but I’ve never felt like I had a value.
I miss you. I miss everything about you. I miss the way you fill up a room without even meaning to. I miss the way I felt cherished with just a look. Most of all I miss the way I felt about myself when I was with you.
You are the best person I’ve ever met. I hate
She didn’t finish the letter, but responded to the text instead.
Oh really? Why do you need it?
She got up and walked to her kitchen, skirting around the five new files she had spread all over the floor of her den. Emery learned the kids the best way she knew how, by reading through the files over and over so that she knew everything about them. There were so many people at the office that needed to refer to their files just to know kids’ names. It made her heart hurt.
I’m thinking of cooking dinner for a friend and I only have two plates. That’s one of them.
Oh, she felt bad now.
Of course, do you want me to bring it over now?
Emery took a sip of her new cup of coffee. It was glazed donut coffee and filled her morning with the only joy she got until she saw a few of her kids. Not all of her kids were happy to see her, but she really felt a connection with a few and that made all the difference.
Not now, I’m busy. Swing by tonight. 7:30.
She looked curiously at the message.
1005 Habersham
A tingling sensation flooded her body. Emery didn’t like it; the feeling was very close to happiness. She remembered that feeling from Nashville and she didn’t want it here. She just wanted to do her job and stay hidden.
Tim was right. His place wasn’t far, maybe only a half dozen blocks from hers on the other side of Forsyth Park. The park bordered the historic downtown area of Savannah and was comprised of thirty acres. It was originally developed in 1840 and then later expanded and named after the Governor of Georgia. It was a
majestic place. The live oak trees lightly decorated with Spanish moss gave the area a romantic feel that she loved. She pulled her car up to the gate. He lived in a gated house? She looked at the box and pressed the intercom for Flemming.
“Yes?” a voice asked through speaker.
“Tim?”
“Emma?”
“Yes.”
The gate opened. She pulled straight in and looked to the left and right. There were maybe six townhomes with garages in front of her. Her phone dinged.
Unit 5
She took a right and pulled into the space in front of Tim’s unit.
The garage door opened revealing a black BMW sedan and a red Toyota Tundra pickup. Tim walked between the two vehicles in jeans and a tight long-sleeved Henley. Emery took a deep breath and grabbed the plate. She left her purse in the car as she got out. Her door was still open and she took a few steps up the driveway and handed him the plate.
“Thanks,” he said, his hand grazing hers.
That damn dimple on his left cheek. Emery inhaled deeply. He smelled amazing.
“Hi,” she said weakly.
“Hi,” he returned.
They stood a few inches from each other, not saying anything.
“So,” she stepped back, “thanks again for the other night. I really appreciate it.” Emery turned to walk back to her car.
“Emma, are you going to eat with me?”
“What?”
“Well, I cooked dinner for us…I was hoping you’d stay to eat. You can even use this plate if you’re attached to it.”
“You…” Thoughts ran through her mind. Arrogant. Asshole.
“What? Wanted to cook for a new friend?”
“You tricked me into dinner?”
“Me?” He feigned horror.
“Tim,” she laughed, “you’re crazy.”
“I just wanted to see you. And I really did cook dinner.”
Emery looked at the open door of her car and then back at Tim holding the empty plate, giving her puppy dog eyes. She slid into her car and leaned over, grabbing her purse. “Fine,” she conceded, standing back up and shutting her door.
Tim’s face broke out into a grin that reminded her of a kid that just found out he was getting the toy he wanted. Even his ears were smiling. It made whatever was to come of the evening worth it. Just for that face.
“So what did you make?” she asked as she followed him into the door from the garage, her hand in his.
He lowered the garage door and she took in the cherry wood floors and vaulted ceilings. The place was gorgeous.
“I grilled steaks, cabbage, and potatoes.” He dropped her hand as he walked into the kitchen and put her plate next to his.
There was a table, not where you would think it would be, but at the back of the den overlooking what looked like a wooden box. The table had wine glasses and two candles glowing against the dark night of the windows. Out the windows, white lights draped around a square area that was directly behind his town home, seemingly marking his space.
“Sounds good.” Her stomach twisted nervously. Emery didn’t know why she was nervous. This wasn’t a date, even though it was starting to look like one.
“You want something to drink?”
She nodded, thinking she might need thirty drinks to make it through tonight. Emery stared at the lights in the backyard until they blurred together. Could she be friends with this guy? Would he break her open like Noah did? Would she be able to hide everything from his watchful eye?
“Emma?”
She turned quickly and he was right there, inches from her. Taking a step back, she looked into his eyes. She saw raw desire and she liked it.
“Breathe, Emma,” Tim soothed.
So she did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Who Needs Willpower?
After they’d gotten drinks and sat down at the table, she felt a little better. Nothing like a little bit of liquid courage. If she drank enough to get through dinner, though, she may have to walk home.
“So, Emma, you were saying that you and Lucas sort of just hit it off?”
Emery smiled at the memory of their first conversation. “I actually think he was just so happy someone could understand him. I mean, the school thought he was deaf, for fuck’s sake. You know?” She cringed, realizing she’d just used that language in front of him, but he didn’t seem bothered. “It’s like, how do you not know this kid isn’t deaf? Do you just not care?”
He ran a hand through his hair, then leaned in and picked a roasted potato off her plate and popped it in his mouth. “I hate it, but sometimes kids fall through the cracks. I don’t know how you miss that. “
She decided to change the subject to more superficial conversation. “So, where did you learn how to cook?”
“Meme,” he answered. “You want to move to the couch? I’ll put up the dishes later.”
“Oh no, I’ll help put everything up.” She got up and stacked the plates like the professional server she was and took them all to the kitchen in one trip. She turned to see him examining her from the den. “What? I waited tables in my former life.” She shrugged as she set the dishes down in the sink.
He was watching her, and something about how casual he was sans shoes made her feel raw, like it was too intimate. Her mind was waging a war in her mind; one part felt everything and knew better and the other was utterly sucked in by him. It was a weird thing, but he put her at ease. There was something about how comfortable he was in his own skin. He had a confidence in himself that was so sexy, it made her long for the ease of just touching him. She wished she could just be with him and turn everything off. She wished that her mind would just evaporate.
Emery turned the water on and started rinsing off dishes and loading them in the dishwasher. Tim switched on music and joined her at the sink.
She felt him behind her and exhaled, steeling herself for the memories and fear that would change this night. He leaned against her, pressing her hips into the counter in front of her. Surprisingly, instead of cringing at the touch, her head fell back involuntarily. Shock and confusion, followed by need, coursed through her body. It’d been so long since anyone had touched her, and she was so lonesome. She felt his lips sear down her neck, eating away at her resolve to stay away from him.
Emery was lost. She wanted what she couldn’t have. She hadn’t turned to him or reciprocated anything, but she could feel heat spreading through her body. Maybe if she could just fill this ache or loss or desperation for this one night, it would last another year.
He peeled off her striped cardigan and moved the straps of her tank top to the side to kiss her collarbone, her shoulder, and her back. “Em…” he started.
Emery turned furiously and crashed her lips into his, interrupting him. There was nothing tender or slow about her kiss and he met her every stroke and movement. He lifted her up on the edge of the counter so their faces were even. She put her hands on his jaw and felt the stubble on his face to slow herself down. He kissed her throat, dipped his tongue into the crevice at its base, and then traveled south, licking her chest. He was panting.
“I really want to take your shirt off. It’s in my way.” He smirked as he spoke and she could tell he knew she would acquiesce. She was as far gone as he was, panting and desperate. She barely nodded and her shirt was ripped from her body without ceremony. He pulled her right breast out of her nude bra and palmed it lovingly before circling her nipple with his tongue.
“Oh, this is bad,” she moaned into his ear.
He lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder, making his way to the stairs to the right off the main room. It took her a minute to realize what he was doing.
Silence.
“Is that okay?” Tim hesitated at the top of the stairs. “I just want to be able to lay you out and kiss you. You tell me no and that’ll be it.”
“I don’t think I have that much willpower,” she answered softly.
“Good,” he slappe
d her ass as they entered his room and he laid her gently on a very large bed with a fluffy duvet, “because I’m pretty sure I left my willpower on the dance floor.”
She’d never affected anyone like this, unless all this was bullshit. She remembered losing herself while kissing him on the dance floor, but he didn’t know anything about her. She could be Emma Simpson, a girl who likes to touch and kiss. One that has sex with boys and walks away feeling fine. She could be anyone she wanted to be.
“So are you going to take your shirt off too or just going to leave me here alone?” Emery asked as she scooted back on the bed and used the toes of each shoe to kick off her Vans.
He pulled his shirt off in one swift move and tackled her on the bed. She laughed at his antics.
“Emma?”
“Yes,” she answered, still laughing.
“I’m going to kiss you right now.” Tim licked from the bottom of her breast to her collarbone and then lightly blew over where traces of wetness remained. She wanted to scream in ecstasy. “A lot.”
She arched into him and lifted her hips, rubbing herself on him. He separated himself from her, holding his weight off her with his forearms. He licked his lips and she squirmed under him, needing him to touch her. “You need to stop doing that, Emma.”
“Doing what?” She could hardly talk, she was so consumed with him.
“You know what.”
They stared at each other.
“I don’t do this,” she whispered.
“I don’t either.”
Emery knew what she meant, but she was pretty sure Tim didn’t mean the same thing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Watch Out for That Dog
Her body hurt in a way it hadn’t in a long time. She stretched her legs out and felt the heavy weight of unfamiliar covers on top of her. She blinked awake, a little disoriented. As her vision cleared, she took in the messy hair and chiseled face just inches from hers. All of a sudden she was hot and cold. She’d fallen asleep easily in his arms after their fourth round—fourth! It was like they couldn’t satisfy themselves. Emery sighed. She never fell asleep easily, fearful of the terror that rocked her thoughts. She hadn’t slept so well in years.
Razorblade Kisses Page 21
