As if seeing inside his mind, she bends over him, still working her hips, her wetness still sliding against his shaft. The cuffs clink and drop to the floor. He isn’t free a moment before he rises up against her and kisses her with a torrent of passion. He tangles his hands in her mane and pulls her head back. He’s possessed now, his own demon has awakened, but to remain himself, he must keep his gaze on her angelic face. He pushes her down on the bed and grips her knee, pulling it against his hip.
“No one has ever made me feel this way.” He pounds into her.
She cries out. “Harder . . . yes . . .”
He’s all too willing to oblige her request. She whimpers as he works her body. His copious experience has made him a master, and he bestows all his talent on Emma. He moves the way he knows she needs him to. A chill of sweat runs over him and he has to hold himself back. He fights to stop himself from releasing into her. He groans and leans back, holding her thighs. She gasps and arches and he feels her pulsing. He watches her face, and her body, as she comes. Then his own release is free to burst through him. He relents to it as his heart beats hard. The blood in his veins thuds and races through him and he collapses onto her chest. She threads her hands through his hair and holds him to her, his throbbing cock still buried inside her. His heart pressed against hers.
He confesses to her. “I love you. I love you.”
With heaving breaths, they revel in their shared bliss, cuddled together in luxurious silence. Emma feels moved to tears. She thought she was in love before, but she has never felt this. She has never felt this connected to anyone—ever. No one has ever seen who she is. No one has ever loved her for who she is.
“I was so lonely before you. Even when I was with him, I was always so alone.”
There is pain in her voice and he cannot bear it. He caresses her face and ghosts his lips over hers.
“But I’m not anymore. You see me, Eric, I know you do. And you love what you see.”
She kisses him and his living, beating heart feels as though it may burst.
“I do. I see you. No one else matters now. You are the one I want. Eu te amo tanto.”10
They lie naked together, kissing and touching, as close as two people can be. They feel love. They feel peace. They feel the sweet relief that they both have long searched for, but more than anything else, they feel so grateful.
Chapter Twenty-Three
There are forces in this universe that seek out good and work toward its demise. There’s no rhyme or reason behind this force. It slithers like a snake in the grass, tainting and rotting some lives, but not others. It soils that which is clean, and ruins what is pure. When the pendulum swings too far to the right, when everything is perfect, it must swing back.
The violent and random wind seems to follow the white car as it stalks toward Emma’s house. The driver is unaware of the heartfelt declarations being made inside the silver trailer. Deborah turns off her headlights, now familiar with the street. Nervous tension churns through her . . . and she likes it.
Single-minded and unfazed by Eric’s rebuff, the scorned woman’s car crawls into Emma’s driveway. Because of her beauty, she has never had to work for a man’s affections. She has also never maintained an affair for very long, due to the fact that the men she’s with discover she’s walking a thin line between sanity and madness. At the end of each of these short-lived trysts, Deborah has exacted a plot of revenge, either on the man himself, or on the new object of his desire. She has sought petty vengeance on plenty of women who have things that she wants. Tonight, the focus of her demented schemes is Eric’s girlfriend. She gets out of the car, peeks in Emma’s windows and tries doorknobs, searching for whatever this woman has that she does not. Whatever it is, she will get it.
Emma awakes, caged in Eric’s arms. They tether her in place, and she doesn’t object to the sensation. Sighing with contentment, she snuggles deeper beneath the blankets with him, but then a horrible reality makes itself known.
It’s Monday.
She rolls over to face him, and his lips touch hers, though his eyes remain unopened. Emma giggles at his zealousness. The first thought Eric has is a wish to wake up to that sound from this day on. He squints at the clock, and then flops his head back down on the pillow, knowing Emma will have to leave.
“You should quit your job.” He yawns.
Emma gets up from the downy bed, leaving her place beside the remarkable, and gorgeous, half-naked man. She pulls his T-shirt off her body and tosses it at him. He holds it to his nose, breathing in her lingering perfume.
“And do what? Become your personal sex slave?” she teases.
“Yes. That is exactly what you should do. It’s your calling in life.” He teases her back, but then becomes serious. “You should call in sick. Stay with me, Emma.”
The way he speaks to her is so tempting. The way it sounds when he says her name . . . it’s like she’s never heard it spoken before, by anyone, until now. After several attempts at saying goodbye, she dresses and makes her way home through the blanket of morning mist.
Emma takes out her keys to open her front door, but it’s already unlocked. That’s odd, she thinks. She’s sure that she locked it. She goes up to her bedroom, and finds her closet door open. She’s sure that she closed it. She looks inside and sees that the wooden box, which bears her old initials, is uncovered. It glares at her. A chill runs up her back, but she shakes it off. I must have opened it and forgotten, she thinks, but she is lying to herself.
At work, she can’t conceal her smile, happy to know in her heart that Eric is in love with her. The students are all well-behaved. The day flies by. She goes shopping with Abby after work and actually buys herself something nice—new lingerie.
Abby is thrilled to see Emma happy and she knows just who will benefit from that gift. “So how are things with Eric?”
“I can’t concentrate on anything. I’m standing in front of my students and I’m supposed to be teaching them something, but I’m thinking about Eric. I’m just consumed with him.”
Abby smiles at the dreamy look in Emma’s usually dreamless eyes. “Sounds like love to me. I’m happy for you, you know.”
“Thanks, Abby. What do you think Danni will say?”
“Who gives a shit? She dislikes Eric for some reason, but I told her you’re a big girl. You can handle it.”
“I trust him. Maybe that’s naïve. Maybe I’m stupid, but when I look in his eyes . . .” Emma gets distracted thinking about the enchanting stormy blue.
Abby allows Emma to indulge in her reverie before responding. “I know. I get it. No one else knows what it’s like when you’re alone together. Only the two of you can ever know that. And that’s all that matters.” She smoothes a stray hair behind Emma’s ear and does her best to reassure her friend.
That night, Emma and Eric have dinner and spend time rolling around together on her couch, but she ends up sending him home. She needs to get some rest. She watches him walk home through her yard, and goes to bed, euphoric and exhausted.
It’s late, and the lights are off inside the white house. Deborah shuts her car off, leaving it on the shoulder of the road as she sneaks down Emma’s driveway once again. After making sure no one is watching her, she takes a knife out of her purse and jabs it into all four tires on Emma’s car.
The last time she was here she broke in and searched Emma’s home for secrets. All she found out was Emma’s full name, and a box with a picture of a man. A man who may have been her husband once, and could be the father of the child Emma was expecting in the photo. A child who is nowhere to be found. She also found a copy of a lease made out to some tenants at a Boston address, on behalf of Emma and Aaron Mallory.
Deborah’s plan is to make Emma’s life as uncomfortable as possible, and her first order of business is finding Aaron Mallory.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Eric awakes to a knock at the door. He squints at the morning sunlight, surprised to be disturbed at thi
s hour, but he knows it must be Emma. He was forced to be without her last night because she claims she can’t get any sleep when she’s with him, and it’s true. He opens the door and her pretty face brings him immediate happiness.
Instead of smiling back at him, Emma’s eyes are wide, her hands are trembling.
“What happened?”
“My car. The tires. Someone . . . slashed them. Who would do that?” She shakes her head from side to side, stunned by the act of vandalism.
Eric’s mind flashes to the white car, the unrelenting blonde. The sinking feeling in his stomach tells him his instinct is correct. He puts his arm around his girl and guides her into the trailer with his eyes scanning the woods.
“Just let me grab a shirt. I’ll drive you to work.”
Danni carries two plates of food to her dining room table. “Well, what do you think his intentions are? It seems obvious that he’s just interested in something physical. He is using her. You know how Emma is. She’s sweet and kind to a fault.”
“Babe, I love you, and I love how loyal you are to everyone in your life, but you can’t control how this is going to play out. Just let it be.” Sean grimaces as he forces the cork from a bottle of wine. “I wonder why Eric never said anything to me about her,” he muses as he sits down to eat.
“Well, he didn’t know that we knew her. He doesn’t seem like he wears his heart on his sleeve, anyway.” Danni sips her wine.
“We talk, Danni. He’s my friend. He just never said anything about being with Emma. To be honest, I think it’s great. Maybe she can tame the beast, keep him grounded. We should all hang out. Us, them, Abby and Jeff . . . it would be good.”
Danielle cannot imagine in what universe that would be good, but because she loves her fiancé and her friend, she will do it.
She grabs her cell phone and types out a text to Emma.
This Friday. The Golden Door. Bring Eric.
“I don’t know why you’re nervous.” Eric speaks to Emma’s bathroom mirror on Friday night as he slides a razor along his delectable jaw. “It’ll be fine. I can be very charming, you know.” Eric peeks around Emma’s bathroom door and winks at her, where she sits on the edge of her bed, putting on stockings. “Besides, you’re very good at keeping me on my best behavior.”
Emma has worried all week about Eric meeting her friends. The leftover pieces of her former self—her innate need to please everyone all the time—still exist. She slips on her heels and walks toward him. He’s shirtless and covered in shaving cream. A sight which incites a blaze inside her.
“There are other things I’m good at, you know.” She runs her hands over his bare chest. Just touching him sets her mind at ease. She feels his flesh prickle at her touch and his face changes from sweet to vulgar.
“So show me.”
She smiles, then opens his pants and drops to her knees. He watches her pleasing him and he touches her long layers of luscious hair. His heart thunders in his chest as her mouth and her lips slip over his hardness. He can feel the dark rising. He lifts her up to him. “Show me something else.”
Emma turns around and lifts her skirt, then bends over the sink. “How about this?”
Eric has had many women in this position, but he can’t remember a single one of them right now. He slides her thong to the side and runs his palms over her round ass. He feels her with his fingers and hisses as he enters her, overcome by the indescribable sensation. He moves in a languid motion, savoring her. He enjoys seeing her need for him course through her; he likes to watch it overtake her. Her complete submergence in lust gets him off.
Their eye contact in the mirror is fleeting but erotic. He grips her hips, pulling her against him again and again. He admires her body, fit and soft in all the right places. He looks at her reflection as she grasps the sink. Eric never dreamed he could feel this—lust without darkness, love without pain. He turns her to face him and kisses her. It’s slow and sensual and Emma’s rapid heartbeat slows to an even rhythm against his chest.
“Eric . . .”
He enters her again, lifting her body up onto the edge of the sink. He makes love to her with tenderness. He wants to stay like this with her, to make her feel good over and over again. Here in the bathroom, on the bed, the floor—but tonight, they have somewhere to be. He touches her where he knows she wants to be touched and says the words he knows she wants to hear. He may be an expert at receiving pleasure, but giving it is still new to him and he’s thrilled by her response as he works her body. He slides his hands over her hips, up into her hair and down her back as he grinds against her. Moans of pleasure reverberate off the bathroom walls, and they are very late to meet the other two couples at the club.
The black Jeep enters the parking lot and pulls up at the valet. Eric relinquishes his keys and takes Emma’s hand, her heels clicking against the pavement as he leads her through the golden door of the club. It’s dark and loud. Eric’s been here before. He remembers the reason, and feels shame. He wore black then, but tonight he does not. He squeezes Emma’s hand tighter, trying to remind himself he’s not that man anymore. He pauses, scans the crowd, and moves forward when he spots Sean.
Danielle notices Emma walking beside a smirking Eric. An angel and a devil. She swallows back the bile she feels rising at the sight of him, and wills a calm expression onto her face. Sean kisses Emma on the cheek and hugs Eric. Danni narrows her eyes. Eric steps toward her and reaches out his hand, but the perverted and smug expression she has seen gracing his face time and again is absent. He looks . . . normal.
“Hello, Danielle.”
Danni returns his polite greeting and he moves on to speak to Abby and Jeff.
The conversations are pleasant, but muted for Danielle. She’s astonished by this unforeseen turn of events. She was sure that Eric would continue to give her the creeps in spite of his involvement with Emma, but he has not. No trace of it. Danielle’s impressed, but a shadow still lingers over her perception of him. She isn’t convinced of his motives. He’ll need to prove himself to her.
“Wow. He is way hot, Emma. I would high five you right now if he wasn’t sitting right next to you,” Abby whispers.
“Thank you. And shut up.” Emma blushes.
The three couples sit on plush couches in the dark bowels of the club. The waiter brings bottle after bottle to them, all at Eric’s generous expense, and they become intoxicated. Everyone except Emma, who’s nursing her first drink. She watches with pride as Eric fits himself into this picture. Jeff is enthusiastic in his interaction with him, which is rare as he’s almost always reserved. Eric has made Abby snort-laugh on more than one occasion, and although this is not a difficult feat, it’s no less satisfying for Emma to hear.
She’s been watching and gauging Danielle’s reaction to Eric, but so far it seems she’s tolerating, if not almost enjoying his company. Emma leans against Eric, and his arm slides around her. She exhales a peaceful and contented sigh. Everything about this moment is perfect. She wouldn’t change a single thing.
Eric loves the feel of Emma’s body next to him, and even more than that, he loves the happy look on her face. He kisses her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
He leaves her side, and Emma embraces herself. His absence leaves her with a haunting chill.
Eric walks through the crowded dance floor, past the bar, toward the bathroom, and enters a narrow hallway lined with several graffiti-covered doors. One of those doors is open, and a woman is leaning against the jamb, staring at him.
She’s blond, she is beautiful, and Eric knows her.
It’s Deborah.
Livid, he reacts to her unexpected presence by grabbing her arm and dragging her through the door of the coat closet. He doesn’t want to be seen with her, but he has to know if she was the one who slashed Emma’s tires.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Are you fucking following me?”
“Jesus, you can be a bit aggressive, huh?” Deborah slips her fingers over his wher
e they’re pinching her arm. “You’re flattering yourself if you think I’d follow you. This is a popular club, Eric.” She smirks at him, and Eric knows that look. This woman won’t stop until he gives her what she wants.
He lets her go when he sees she’s enjoying his touch. “Why are you fucking lurking in the shadows back here?”
“Lurking? I’m just checking my coat . . . I don’t know what you’re implying.” She bats her eyes and feigns innocence as she answers him.
He steps closer so his face is just an inch from hers. His anger seethes through him. “Don’t give me that shit. I know you fucked with Emma’s car, and I’m telling you, stay away from her.” His tone is coarse, almost a growl.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She looks him dead in the eye. It’s evident that she believes her own lies.
“That’s bullshit. You slashed her tires!” He grips both her shoulders in his hands and shakes her.
“What makes you think it was me? Maybe it was her husband who did it? Did you ever think of that?”
He pushes her back against the coat rack and she gasps. He’s shocked that Deborah would know such a personal detail of Emma’s life. “How do you know about that?”
“People talk in this town. I know plenty.” Deborah licks her lips. She enjoys seeing him this worked up, red-faced and shouting. He’s vulnerable, and she will use it to her advantage.
She slides her hands down to his waist. “I’ll stay away from her. I promise. Just stay here with me for a little while. I can make you feel good. Just give me a chance. Stay with me, here, and I’ll leave her alone.”
A few weeks ago, this scenario would have ended with Eric fucking the shit out of Deborah in this coat closet. He sees the events play out in his mind. His monster would enjoy the feel of Deborah’s hands on his skin. It would react to her touch because it wants her, but his mind and his heart do not. This woman’s advances disgust him. In fact, they fill him with rage. She leans in to him, to brush her lips against his, but he jolts back and grips her wrists, removing her hands from his body. He grips her with force. His touch is hurting her, there’s discomfort in her eyes, but he can’t stop himself. He wants to hurt her.
The Righteous and The Wicked Page 17
