Embrace

by S. Layne

  He’s as uncertain as I am.

  It makes me more determined.

  “Come on in, James.” Reaching down, I take his free hand and pull him in behind me. “Please.”

  The door closes behind us, shutting with a quiet click that echoes in the large, darkened entryway around us.

  The air pulses with expectation and I lick my lips before I head toward the kitchen. I need a drink to settle my nerves, because as much as I want this, I’m still unsure it’s the wisest decision.

  James makes the decision for me when he wraps his arms around me once I’ve grabbed a bottle of wine.

  His chin rests on my shoulder and I catch our reflection in the window.

  “You let me in, you won’t regret it again, Laurie. I swear it to you.”

  I swallow, the thickness in my throat making it difficult to speak. With one hand, I reach up and run it through his dark hair.

  “I don’t know the best thing to do right now.”

  “I don’t either, but I don’t think we can screw things up any more than they are either.”

  He’s probably right—I think.

  I don’t even know.

  I’m about to have sex with my husband—who doesn’t live with me and who I’m currently in the process of divorcing.

  If that doesn’t scream “screwed up,” I don’t know what does.

  His hands run down my arms from my shoulders to my hands, melting the tension away from my shoulders at the same time that something else begins to simmer beneath my skin.

  Desire.

  Want.

  “I had a lot of fun tonight,” I whisper as I slowly tug myself out of James’s hold and pour a glass of wine for both of us.

  He arches an eyebrow, and I shrug, knowing he hates wine. But it’s there, and it gives me something to do.

  He takes it anyway and sips. “Thank you for being willing to go with me today.”

  “How was your day with Nolan?” I ask, because he hasn’t said much about his day at all. And I’m stalling, because I’m nervous.

  I can’t describe why. We’ve made out this week. Hell, just last night James brought me to orgasm on my parents’ living room couch, but that can be brushed off as a momentary lapse in judgment.

  This is a decision—one I don’t yet know if we’ll regret when the sun rises tomorrow.

  James reads my stalling tactic and lets me have it. “It was good to see him, good to talk business with someone who isn’t busy trying to make partner in a firm that doesn’t give a shit about him, but only his conviction rate.”

  I frown. This is the first time I’ve heard James mention being unhappy at the firm in Denton. “I didn’t know you were unhappy there,” I tell him.

  He brings his glass to his lips, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Maybe,” he says, and takes a sip of his drink before setting it down next to mine, “I’ve learned in the last few months that there were things in my life that are no longer as important. Maybe I’ve had to reevaluate what I truly want in my life, and I’m beginning to wonder if making partner at some fancy firm is the thing that would make me happiest.”

  “What would?” I ask, knowing the answer by the way he’s staring at me.

  He doesn’t speak. He just moves.

  His hands move to my hips, and his lips at the crook of my neck trail up the column of my throat.

  His chest presses against mine.

  He’s everywhere, all at once, before I can blink.

  “You. None of it means anything without you, and if I had to give up the firm to have you back, I would do it in a second. You have to believe that.”

  I don’t. Not really. Because if he did, why hasn’t he left before now? Why is now the first time he’s even thinking about it, when we fought over it right after I found out about Becky?

  But I don’t want to think about it tonight.

  I can’t think about it.

  His hands are on me, tickling my skin and eliciting sparks of fire and lust everywhere he touches—from my ears to my jawline, to his thumbs gently running across the skin between my shirt and above the hem of my skirt on my lower back.

  His hips press into me and I melt into him when I feel his erection.

  Hot, thick, hard for me.

  I push away my doubts of James, mentally shove them into a box and push it under my bed.

  I’ll think tomorrow.

  Tonight, I want to remember what it’s like to be taken by James.

  I want him to erase every memory of Liam from me until I can only focus on James again.

  “Upstairs,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. James’s lips are driving me crazy. His teeth, pulling and sucking and nibbling on my ear and my neck, drive me to distraction.

  Pleasured bumps have erupted all over and I groan when his hips roll into mine.

  His erection presses against the apex of my thighs and I lean in.

  “I want this, James.”

  “I want you.”

  And I’m not given any more time to talk or to worry or to think because James’s hands drops to my hips.

  He lifts me, and I have to wrap my legs around his waist.

  His mouth fuses with mine and we blindly feel our way to the stairs, flicking off light switches as we head out of the kitchen and entryway.

  The hall is dark, but we’ve memorized the path years ago.

  By the time he drops me on my bed, I’m panting for him.

  My sex is wet and throbbing. I can feel my wet underwear, and when James climbs on top of me, both of us still fully clothed, his thick erection presses against me and I can’t wait anymore.

  “I want you,” he states.

  I can only nod in agreement.

  The man has left me breathless, writhing and shifting under him, needing more than he’s giving.

  “But I need to know you want me,” James says, and his forehead drops to mine.

  A slight sheen of sweet brushes from his skin to mine, and it should feel gross but knowing he wants me so desperately, yet trying to hold back, causes my skin to heat.

  My hands curve around his muscled arms as his lips drag across my cheek, down to my jawline.

  “I want to try to forgive you,” I whisper, and his back tenses. His lips freeze against my skin. “That is the only promise I can make. And tonight, I want you to be mine.”

  “I am,” he replies adamantly and pulls back. Our noses brush against each other’s and his eyes pierce mine with intensity. If I wasn’t already breathless, he would have stolen it with the look of determination in his eyes. “I am yours. Only yours.”

  I widen my legs, cradling him as he drops against me. “Prove it, then.”

  I mean with sex. And more.

  “I will,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes, and I know he gets what I’m saying, but tonight we’re choosing to avoid the seriousness.

  “Do you know what we need to do first?” he asks, and I shake my head.

  I lie still beneath him and mostly I’m mesmerized watching the muscles on his arms bunch and tense. A slight vein sticks out on his arm and I want to run my tongue down his arms.

  I don’t remember those muscles being there, but they’re sexy.

  “What?” I finally say when I realize he’s actually waiting for my response.

  James just licks his lips and smiles. Then he sits back on his heels.

  One of his hands goes to the back of his neck and grabs the collar of his shirt, and then it’s gone, leaving me staring at his chest.

  He’s masculine and strong and perfect. Not chiseled, not defined like he used to be—we’ve both become softer in the last few years—but there are shadows along dips and muscles that weren’t there weeks ago either.

  I reach out, dragging my finger down the center of his chest and his abs to a trail of dark hair that dips below his jeans.

  His abs tighten as I graze his skin softly, teasing him.

  “You’ve been working out.”

  He arches a
brow, abs squeezing as I brush my fingertip along the top edge of his jeans around his waist. I move from hipbone to hipbone and bite down on my upper lip as I watch him struggle to remain still, letting me explore.

  “I had a lot of frustration and aggression to work through.”

  “It looks like it.” I raise my eyes to his. I don’t want to ruin this moment by bringing up anything serious. “You look good.”

  I swallow down the small, quiet question: is it really why—or is he trying to look good for someone?

  I can’t help the doubt even as I try to shove it to the side.

  “Laurie.” James whispers my name harshly—determined, not angry. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

  Now, maybe. I hate the doubt. The wondering.

  Tears burn my eyes as he leans over me, hands next to my head, and drops his head to mine.

  “We don’t have to do this. I won’t pressure you, but I want nothing more than to feel you again. To love you. To show you in this way how important you are to me.”

  I want it, too. “I’m terrified,” I tell him, emotion clogging my throat, and I have to look away.

  But even as I do, I catch our reflection in my bedroom window and I gasp.

  He’s so large, so strong on top of me, surrounding me.

  And I’m consumed by him, physically. Emotionally I wonder if I always have been. Our coloring matches, our hair dark. We complement each other so well in so many ways.

  I want to remember what it’s like to be needed by him.

  I want to forget it.

  I want to move on.

  “James.” His name is a plea—one I can only whisper—and I’m thankful when he leans back onto his heels again, this time bringing me with him so I’m sitting up.

  Slowly, without speaking, he begins removing my shirt.

  Then my bra.

  His hands roam my skin and I return the same.

  As if we’re touching each other for the thousandth time but the first time all over again.

  Discovering each other.

  Silently forging promises with our fingertips on skin. Brushing away pain.

  Removing doubt.

  It’s not permanent, but it’s enough.

  My hands drop to his jeans and his eyes follow. The pop of the button as I undo his jeans and the zipper fills the air.

  Both of our breaths catch and my fingers press beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs.

  “Show me,” I tell him, dragging my eyes to his as my hands push into his jeans until I’m cupping his hard cock. Big and hard. For me.

  It pulses in my hand and I feel the power I have over this man.

  “Show me how much you love me.”

  I’m on my back, James over me, and he takes my hand from his jeans as he climbs off the bed.

  “I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life doing just that.”

  I blink away the promise. He sounds so certain. So sure.

  I’m still full of so much doubt and distrust.

  But I forget about all of that in this moment. James’s hands go to his jeans, then his underwear, and then he’s standing in front of me, completely naked.

  Naked and beautiful and strong and tempting.

  I want all of it.

  I want to discover all of him. To remember all of him.

  I want to know if his touch can take away my pain.

  He drops to the bed, hands moving to my waist, and I’m pulled forward until my hips are at the edge of the bed.

  “Shift your hips,” he says, reaching for my skirt.

  Like he did with his clothes, I’m divested of mine quickly and smoothly and then I’m lying beneath him, naked, spread wide…dripping wet with need.

  Heart thumping with nerves.

  His hand goes to his cock and I lick my lips, watching him tug and pull on his own erection.

  I want to reach out and feel him. To remind myself how good he feels in my hand and under my touch. My mouth dries and I swallow, remembering how good he tastes.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  His statement, said so softly and reverently, has me lifting my eyes to his, and I see everything he can hide from me with words.

  I see his awe—his love and his admiration. His guilt and regret are equal to them both, and in just a glance I feel a broken fissure in my heart begin to sear itself back together.

  Molding to the broken pieces he caused like they’re being soldered with fire, his gaze burns so bright.

  “I need you,” I tell him, and I reach for his waist, pulling us so the tip of his cock rubs against my clit.

  My head immediately falls back and a sound of desperate need falls from my lips. My hips arch into him.

  “You’re incredible,” he says, and runs his hand along his shaft while rubbing it along my wet folds and against my clit. “So wet. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

  I reach out, covering his hand with mine, and together, our hands slide up and down his erection.

  “I want it,” I whisper.

  James leans over me, bracing himself with one arm above me. His hips roll into me and my legs widen, making room for him. I grind my clit against his dick as we jerk him off and then I reach down, cupping his balls.

  They’re pulled tight and heavy and warm in my hand as I pull on them gently, massaging them the way I know drives him crazy.

  His knees buckle slightly. Feminine power surges through me—that I can do this to him.

  I literally have the power to bring James to his knees.

  “Stop,” he says, and I watch as his fingers dig into the covers next to me. His knuckles turn white and his voice is tight.

  My entire body thrums with anticipation.

  “You’re going to make me come before I get inside you if you keep that up.”

  “I thought you liked the way I jerked you off.”

  “I do,” he says, looking directly at me. “Your hand wrapped around my dick makes me want to explode, but I’ve waited so long for this moment.”

  I gather my courage. “Then let’s stop waiting.”

  I want this. My body is coiled tight. My clit is swollen and tender as he slides his dick against me, teasing me, and then he’s gone.

  I lean up on elbows and watch as he grabs his jeans and digs a condom out of his pocket. Instantly, the temperature in the room drops.

  I hadn’t even considered…

  “I’m on the pill,” I tell him, my eyebrows pulled in. And I feel sick, like I might throw up—because James and I haven’t used condoms since we were teenagers.

  “I know,” he says, and holds the foil packet between his fingers. “But until I can prove to you that you can trust me again, I didn’t want to give you cause to doubt me.”

  But the foil square does just that—and brings back reality, rushing in like a summer tornado.

  Tears burn in the back of my eyes and I swallow, looking away. “Is it because of me?” I ask, because I need to know.

  “This has nothing to do with you and your boss,” he says, his teeth gritting together.

  I know how much he despises even thinking about this, but we have to talk about it.

  “I assumed until I could prove to you that I was clean…after Becky…”

  God.

  “Stop,” I tell him, shaking my head. “It’s fine. I get it.”

  “I don’t think you do.” He drops the packet next to me on the bed. Then he leans over and I’m in his arms.

  He shuffles on his knees, me wrapped around him, my head digging into his shoulder until he lays us down, him covering me.

  Both of his hands press against my temples, pushing my hair back, and holding my head tenderly but firmly.

  “I didn’t want to worry you,” he says.

  I can feel his erection throb against my thighs.

  I hate and love how my body responds to his touch.

  “I know. But will we be able to get past this?”

  “Y
es.” He says it so adamantly I almost believe him on principle. “It will take time, but I know we will.”

  “I want to,” I tell him, and tears fall from my eyes. “I really do.”

  And it’s not until this very moment that I realize I desperately do.

  I don’t want my marriage to end.

  I never wanted it to be over.

  I want the pain to be gone, though, and I want the trust to be rebuilt.

  And I don’t know how we can do that if there are barriers that remain between us.

  “Were you careful with her?” Tears drip from the outer edges of my eyes, down my sides, and his thumbs swipe them away. I hate that I have to ask this.

  “Yes.” His chin dips. “I swear to you. I was safe. An idiotic asshole, but I was safe.”

  “I was, too.” Swallowing the emotion thick in my throat, I pick up the pieces of my fragile heart.

  With eyes wide open I stare at him, silently and desperately begging him to understand how hard this is for me, to be so vulnerable.

  To want him like this.

  “No condom,” I say. “I can’t. It will just make me think of everything that separates us. Tonight, I just want you.”

  “Laurie.” He whispers my name on a needy breath.

  I shift, pressing my wet core against him, and feel how easily he slides against me.

  “I need this. You…in this way.”

  His hand reaches down and he grips himself.

  “Make love to me.”

  He exhales heavily, his own breath shaky, and as he presses inside me, stretching me and filling me and feeling exactly like he always has, tears from his own eyes drip onto my cheeks and mix with mine.

  “I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse and thick.

  “I need you,” I tell him. My hips arch up, meeting him as he plunges inside of me.

  It’s slow, and my body quivers as he pulls out before sinking back inside me until he’s buried to the hilt. I feel every inch of him and my body responds.

  “James,” I whisper. “You feel so good.”

  “I will love you so hard,” he promises, right before his lips fall against mine.

  And then we’re moving in tandem.

  Slowly.

  Carefully.

  We’re guarded and open at the same time, wanting more than we have between us.