The two women stood watching for as long as they could without actually conversing at all. Finally, Emily turned to look at Catherine. God, it was good to see her. And she looked beautiful, as usual. Her jeans were tucked into brown leather boots, and a green turtleneck sweater was visible beneath the collar of her coat. Her hair was down and glistened with the remnants of the falling snow outside. Her skin looked as porcelain-smooth as it always did, but there were dark circles under her gorgeous blue eyes, and Emily had to make a conscious effort not to be concerned whether she was getting enough sleep or coming down with something.
“What happened to Mo?” she asked quietly.
Catherine cleared her throat. “I forgot to fix the latch on my gate. He got out and was hit by a car in front of my house on Sunday.”
Emily’s heart began to pound. “Oh, my God.” Catherine seemed very careful about not looking at her. “But he’s okay?”
“Broken leg. Some bumps and bruises.”
“We have matching casts.”
A ghost of a smile. “I know.”
They watched as Mo apparently grew tired of exploring already and settled in front of the fireplace, curling up on the rug. Dave sat next to him and looked to Emily, who smiled at him. “I was making some lunch,” Emily said quietly after a beat. “You hungry?”
Catherine nodded, still not looking at her, expression a bit uncertain, but she bent to remove her boots. Emily went into the open kitchen without waiting, pulled out two more slices of bread.
“Can I help?” Catherine asked.
Emily pointed her knife at one of the stools on the other side of the counter. “You can sit.” Catherine obeyed orders, keeping an eye on the dogs, who seemed perfectly content to doze by the fire. Taking a deep breath, Emily added, “And you can tell me why you’re here.”
Her blue-eyed gaze darted around the loft and Emily had to admit to herself that seeing Catherine so uncertain and out-of-sorts was a hard thing to watch. Her first instinct was to do what she could to make Catherine feel better—and that ticked her off. Biting the inside of her cheek, she turned her attention to the food in front of her and left Catherine to fend for herself.
It didn’t make Emily feel good.
“I wanted…I needed to talk to you,” Catherine said, and the tremor in her voice again had Emily wanting to embrace her, keep her safe. That also made her mad and she embraced that anger instead.
“So talk.”
There was a long beat of silence while Catherine seemed to struggle with words. With one hand, she pushed her hair off her face and gave a sarcastic chuckle. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
“Nope.” Emily put a frying pan on the stove, banging it down a bit louder than necessary. “Oh, I’m using this.” She held up a brick of cheddar cheese from which she’d sliced pieces for the sandwiches. “Is it too expensive for you? Because I have regular cheap American in the fridge. I can just use that for yours if it makes you feel better.” She raised her eyebrows in question, feeling awful but unable to stop herself. The look of pain that zipped across Catherine’s face, that seemed to bruise her eyes, made it worse.
Catherine looked down at her hands and said softly. “Okay. I deserved that.”
Emily went back to making lunch, sure she’d made her point, but not feeling any better about it.
“Look, Emily.” Catherine stared at the countertop and spoke quietly. “I’m not proud of my…fear, my lack of trust. It was unfair to you and…I was a jerk. Unintentionally, but a jerk just the same. I jumped to conclusions and believed Clark rather than you, which seems crazy to me now. I never even gave you a chance to tell me the truth. I was stupid. And shortsighted…” Her voice trailed off and when Emily looked up from her pan, Catherine’s eyes had filled with tears and she looked away, which squeezed Emily’s heart, releasing all the anger in a matter of mere seconds even as the first drop spilled over and down Catherine’s smooth cheek.
“Catherine.” Emily said her name quietly. When Catherine looked at her, she set down her spatula and her voice cracked as she asked pleadingly, “Please tell me you know there was never any bet. Please.”
Catherine nodded. “I do. Obviously. I don’t know why I ever believed—”
“Because my brother is a sexist asshole.” Emily thumped herself in the chest as her own tears threatened. “I am not.”
Catherine nodded again. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Their gazes held and long moments went by.
Finally, Emily gave a nod. “Okay. Good.” She let Catherine’s gaze go and turned to her task, flipping a sandwich expertly.
“Emily?” Catherine’s voice was so soft, so tender, Emily felt it very low in her body. Too low.
“Yeah?”
“Look at me?”
Emily did as she was asked.
Catherine waited a beat, maybe making sure she had Emily’s full attention. When she seemed satisfied, she said in an intense whisper, “I am so sorry.” The expression on her face was pained and loving and beautiful all at once, and Emily suddenly couldn’t breathe. In that moment, she realized those were the words she’d been waiting for, the ones she needed.
“I forgive you,” she said softly. “And I’m sorry, too. For Clark. For what he did and said. That had to be…horrifying.”
A sob pushed its way from between Catherine’s lips, and she covered her mouth with one hand as she obviously tried to stem the tide of emotion about to flow out of her. She was unsuccessful and Emily had no choice but to round the counter and wrap her in a tight embrace.
“Shh,” she said against Catherine’s hair. “It’s okay. Shh.” Holding her tightly and doing a bit of subtle rocking, she let Catherine cry, Emily’s own tears spilling silently down her cheeks. She soothed Catherine with her voice, continued to press gentle kisses against her hair, against her temple, until the sobs began to subside into hiccups and eventually stopped all together.
“Um, Emily?” Catherine said softly, finally.
“Hmm?”
“Your sandwich is burning.”
Emily’s head snapped around and her eyes landed on the smoking frying pan on the stove. “Shit.” She ran around the counter and pulled the pan from the burner. With the spatula, she pulled the black square that was once a grilled cheese sandwich from the pan and slid it onto a plate. Pushing it toward Catherine, she said, “Yeah, that one was yours.”
A laugh burst from Catherine’s throat and Emily had never heard anything more beautiful. She just looked at her and when Catherine met her gaze and her laughter died down, Emily smiled widely and said simply, “Hi, you.”
“Hi back,” Catherine said.
They were quiet then and Emily was hyper-focused on the sandwiches. Catherine looked like she wondered if she should say anything more. Finally, she did.
“So…your mom. I should apologize to her.” Catherine wet her lips and looked away, her expression anxious. Emily read it easily; her mother had that effect on people. While Emily knew Catherine wasn’t easily intimidated, she’d bet her favorite leather jacket that Cheryl Breckenridge intimidated the hell out of her.
Emily set her hand on the counter and stared at the new sandwich in the frying pan, felt Catherine’s eyes on her. “Yeah, maybe you should wait on that.”
Catherine scoffed. “She must hate me.”
“Well, she’s not happy with either of us. But I explained Clark’s role in all of this, so she doesn’t want to kill you anymore.”
“Can’t say that I blame her for when she did want to kill me. She and Jessica should call each other.”
Emily nodded and they were quiet. She made a second sandwich, plated both, then came around and took the stool next to Catherine. They ate in silence.
When they had both finished, Emily wiped her face, set her napkin on her empty plate, and turned to Catherine. Catherine met her gaze and they stayed like that for a beat.
“What?�
�� Catherine finally asked.
“I have a question for you.”
“Okay.” There was more silence. Catherine narrowed her eyes at Emily. “Am I supposed to be trying to get the question by reading your mind? Because I should probably tell you I’m not good at that. At all.”
Emily smiled. “No. I’m just…working up my courage.”
Catherine laid her hand on Emily’s thigh and Emily instantly felt better, more relaxed. Safe. “Just ask me.”
Emily looked up, looked right into Catherine’s stunning blue eyes, held her gaze. This was it. This was for the final rose. She wet her lips and asked softly, “How do you feel about me?”
Catherine furrowed her brow, obviously confused. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a pretty simple question. How do you feel about me?”
Catherine swallowed audibly and Emily watched a succession of worries and concerns track across her face.
She laid her hand on Catherine’s forearm, waited until she made eye contact, then smiled as tenderly as she could. “Wait. Let me clarify. If there were none of our current obstacles…if Jessica didn’t care who you were with and my family’s business was totally unaffected by who I’m with…if that was the case, if our jobs, friends, and families had no bearing on any of it, tell me honestly. How do you feel about me?”
“I love you.” The words popped out so quickly and easily, Catherine just blinked.
A laugh burst from Emily’s mouth. “Oh, my God, you should see your face right now. You look so shocked. It’s kind of hilariously adorable.” Then she softened her tone as she said, “That’s exactly what I’d hoped you’d say. You know why?”
“Why?” Catherine whispered.
“Because I love you, too.”
There. It was out. She’d said it to the person who mattered most.
Catherine looked down at Emily’s hand, still resting on her forearm and Emily wondered what she was thinking, what was going through her mind at that moment. Finally, she seemed to shake herself and cleared her throat loudly, but her voice stayed quiet. “Not to spoil the mood, but…our situations haven’t changed. We’re in exactly the same boat, whether we love each other or not. Our jobs do have a bearing on things.”
“That may not be true.”
Catherine’s head snapped up, and Emily could see her fighting not to let any excitement or anticipation in. “What does that mean?”
“It means that two guys in the marketing department at my family’s company are retiring this summer.”
“And? What does that mean?”
“I have already asked my mother about returning to marketing and helping to modernize some of our methods. Brainstorming with you really made me miss my marketing days, the creativity of it. Plus, I’d be the head of the department.”
Catherine was trying to keep her excitement smothered; Emily could read it on her face. “You’ve already talked to your mother?”
“Right after you left my hospital room.”
Catherine’s eyebrows shot up.
“I was waiting to see what your next move would be.”
“And I came here. And I told you I love you.”
“And you came here. And told me you love me. Thank God.”
“But, Em.” Catherine looked down at her hands, seemed to struggle to find the right words. “You love the work you’re doing for the Foundation. You can’t just…change your whole life.”
“Really? Which part of my life is more important to change?”
Catherine narrowed her eyes, confused. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m saying, I won’t stop seeing you to maintain my job—which, yes, I do love. But I will switch jobs to keep seeing you. That is one aspect of my life I’m willing to change, because I happen to think you’re worth it. That we’re worth it.”
“That’s…huge.”
“It’s huge,” Emily agreed. She gestured between them. “This. This is huge. For me, this is IT huge.” Emily slid her hand from Catherine’s forearm down to her hand, entwined their fingers. Then she picked it up, brought it to her mouth, and kissed a knuckle. “Does Jessica have a problem if you’re sleeping with a volunteer?”
Catherine shook her head with a grin. “You’ve met Lisa and Ashley. She does not.”
“Good. Because I’d like to keep doing that. I really like volunteering. I like that more than the rest of it. Coincidentally, I also really like sleeping with you.”
Catherine’s grin grew wider as she tightened her grip on Emily’s hand. “Well, you’ve only done that once. Hopefully, after many, many, many more times, you won’t like it. You’ll love it.”
“I have no doubt,” Emily said, and then she leaned in and her mouth was on Catherine’s. She kept the kiss gentle and tender. Loving. Reverent. God, the things she felt for this woman. They could scare her if she let them.
When they parted, Catherine ran a finger along Emily’s jawline. “Listen, before you show me your bedroom, I have a favor to ask.”
“Presumptuous,” Emily said with a wink. “But okay. Shoot.”
Catherine gazed around the loft until her eyes landed on the music dock for Emily’s phone. Sliding her own phone out of her pocket, Catherine snapped it on, pushed a few buttons, and a ballad by John Legend began. Meeting Emily’s eyes, Catherine walked back to the kitchen and held out her hand to Emily.
“Dance with me?”
Stunned, thrilled, and touched all at once, Emily swallowed the sudden emotion in her throat and put her hand in Catherine’s. “Any time. Anywhere.”
And suddenly, it was as if the past four days had never happened. Catherine pulled Emily in close with a hand around her waist, her other hand holding Emily’s. Emily was careful not to knock Catherine senseless with her cast as she draped her arm over Catherine’s shoulder and they began to sway gently. Emily looked into her eyes for a beat before turning her face so she could rest her head on Catherine’s shoulder. They moved slowly, fitting together on the dance floor just as perfectly as they did in the bedroom.
“See?” Emily whispered. “It’s not so bad.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s not too intimate.”
“Oh, I beg to differ.” Catherine pulled her closer, so their stomachs touched, their breasts. Emily lifted her head so they were nose to nose.
“Yeah, I guess it is kind of intimate,” she whispered, and then pressed her lips to Catherine’s. They kissed slowly and tenderly for a while, but Emily couldn’t quite relax, her mind whirring her into distraction. She wanted nothing more than to settle herself against Catherine’s form, to continue swaying with her, maybe sway her right into the bedroom, but she couldn’t. She needed to clear something up, so before she could change her mind or lose the moment, she pulled back and furrowed her brow at Catherine. “We’re not magically all better you know.” She said it gently, but still saw a zap of embarrassment flash across Catherine’s beautiful face.
Catherine nodded and looked a bit chastened. “I know that.”
“You have to talk to me, Catherine.” Emily didn’t step away from the warmth of Catherine’s body—in fact, they kept right on swaying to the music—but she did poke her in the chest with a finger, wanting—no, needing—badly to make her point. “When you freak out. When something’s bugging you. When you’re concerned or worried. I need you to tell me. Not shut down. Not run away. You have to talk to me or this will never work. Sadly, I can’t read your mind.” Her voice softened as she added, “Okay?”
Catherine took a deep breath. “It’s hard for me.”
“I know it is. I’m not sure why, but I intend to dig in and find out.” Emily smiled. “You can always talk to me.”
“I know.”
“Well, knowing and doing are two different things.”
“I’ll try.”
Emily stopped swaying and looked Catherine in the eye before adopting the voice of a fictional life guru. “Do or do not. There is no try.”
Cather
ine chuckled. “Okay, Yoda.”
Back to her regular voice, Emily said, “I’m serious.”
Catherine’s expression sobered. “I know you are. I’ll do my best. How’s that?”
“That’s all I ask.” Emily studied her face for a beat before saying, “You really are a lot of work, you know that?” She punctuated the statement with a quick peck on the lips.
Catherine responded by yanking Emily back up against her. “Shut up and dance with me.”
***
Intense.
That’s a good word. That word works really well.
Passionate.
Oh, that’s another good one. That one might be better for this particular description…
And then the words stopped. Emily had been trying to think of the best word to encompass her current situation, but her head was suddenly blank, now completely devoid of any and all words except for one.
“Catherine…” she whispered as a head bobbed between her open legs, a hand on each thigh gently spreading them farther. The mouth and tongue on her did unspeakably pleasurable things, making her muscles tighten and her breath hitch, as she reached down and dug her fingers into the soft, chestnut brown hair fanned out over her thighs. She tried to recall the last woman who’d filled her with such glory that Emily had called out her name, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t because it had never happened. Until now.
“Catherine…” She said it again, louder this time, unable to stop herself, and she could feel how it spurred Catherine on. She picked up the pace, and her tongue pushed directly into Emily, inside her for a beat before sliding back out and around her hot, wet flesh. Then, without warning, Emily’s lungs sucked in a huge breath—as if she had no control over them—and what felt like every muscle in her body spasmed. Her back arched and her hips came up off the bed as the orgasm tore through her, ripping a moan from her throat, Catherine tightening her grip on Emily’s waist in an attempt to stay with her, pressing her tongue to exactly the right spot—oh, yes, right there!—drawing it out as long as she could.
When Emily’s body finally relaxed, her hips settled back on the mattress, her fingers still in Catherine’s hair, but no longer clutching a handful of it, she became aware of Catherine’s ragged breathing. It made her grin. She opened her eyes and looked at the gorgeous woman who owned her, body and soul.
Run To You (Puppy Love Romance Book 2) Page 27
