Only for Her

by Cristin Harber

  “Hang on. Give me a minute, okay? Do not hang up.”

  “Okay.” I grab my knees and hide farther under the covers.

  My proximity to him is a problem. If I had a hard time not calling him, I’m going to have a sudden urge to find him. When I’m ready. Which I’m not. My head is seriously going to explode. I need to calm down. While I’m waiting for him to come back on the line, I drop Cherry a text.

  Emma: Miss you guys. Take care of my girl.

  I stare at the screen, but she doesn’t message me back.

  “Emma, you there?”

  “Hey.”

  “Listen to me, Ems. You never left my mind. Not the day I left or the day I came back. I’ve thought of you a million times in a million ways.”

  “Same,” I admit. He overwhelms my thoughts when I dance. I move for him, sway for him. Every Wednesday, when there might be hundreds of eyes on me, I’m alone with Grayson. “But I’m already vulnerable enough to you. I’m not sure admitting anything puts me in the advantage.”

  “No games, baby. I’m past that. We’re talking. Just you and me. You want vulnerable? I’ve killed. Maimed. Mauled. I’ve destroyed and been ruined. I’m lifeless unless it’s about you. Now who the fuck is vulnerable?”

  My chest feels tight. The silence around me is overwhelming. I have no creature comforts to rely on. No TV or music for background noise. Nothing. All I have is Grayson’s deep voice in my ear, talking as if it hasn’t been years, and I like it. A lot.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  “This is what I know: your sweet face, your sweet laugh, God, that smile. The way you used to stare at me like I’m the reason you were put on earth. You’re the only thing that can bring me to life.” Noise filters through the phone, sounds like he’s shaking his head. “Nothing held back anymore. You want the truth, and that’s all I have to offer.”

  My stomach somersaults. He’s direct and confident.

  “I’ve survived off your memory, Ems.”

  Swirling in memories, I swallow away my hesitations. “Same. But probably not in the way you think.”

  “The night before I was set to go… I meant to explain I’d enlisted. But when we got on the beach… ”

  I said I loved him. “Yeah.”

  “Best night of my fuckin’ life.”

  Tears leak into my pillow. “Mine too.”

  We sit in silence. Well, I’m silent. He’s moving around or something. But it’s not awkward. I think about that night together and its implications. Who knows where his head is; I can’t even figure out my own thoughts.

  “Best night ever,” he mumbles again, sounding reminiscent. “I’m sure you’ve changed as much as I have. But I lean on that night when nothing else works.”

  My heart flutters. I need to get off the phone. I’m falling for this sexy-voiced man and romanticizing him, reliving old memories. It makes my anger hard to hang on to. “Maybe we could talk later, Gray. I’m”—in love—“exhausted.”

  “Don’t hang up, Emma. Please. Stay on the line with me.”

  I don’t want to as much as I do want to. My chest squeezes, and I hug myself tighter in my covers cocoon. “Why?”

  “Said I was fixing us.” His breathy growl makes me dizzy. “It’s always been you.”

  I swoon. A shiver runs through me. It’s always been him too. Maybe one day I’ll understand why. I probably need intense therapy. I can’t admit out loud what it means to hear him say that, but I can’t sit around and torture myself. “Good night, Grayson.”

  “Don’t hang up on me, Ems.”

  Knock, knock, knock. It echoes through the phone and my house. I jump, my eyes going wide as I stare toward the wall as though I have x-ray vision. There’s no way…

  “Not”—one more knock hits. It’s as hard and strong as the man on the phone—“unless you plan on opening your front door.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Grayson

  My muscles bunch and flex, and I have enough energy running through me to deadlift a car or tear the front door off her house. I rock to the balls of my feet on Emma’s porch. The small Craftsman house is worn but safe. She’s in a semi-decent part of town, and her place has a tiny lawn and windows that could use a security latch.

  All I can focus on is the two inches of wood separating Emma and me. I’ve never been more certain in my whole life that I’m somewhere I’m unwanted. “Open up, Ems.”

  Thump. I laugh, pretty sure she just bumped her head against the door.

  “Tell me this is a joke,” she moans.

  “No joke, baby. I want see you.”

  “Wait!” Another thump on the door, and I’m almost certain she’s replaced her forehead with her fist. “How do you even know where I live! I just moved. Like, days ago. You said you thought I was at college!”

  I like that she’s smart, that she’s thinking and questioning, because I don’t want a single doubt after tonight’s over. “Pays to know someone. You said you were close, so I pulled in a favor.”

  “What? Do you have PIs on speed dial?”

  Chuckling, I nod at the closed door. “Something like that.”

  “Spies R Us?”

  Now I’m definitely smiling. The girl’s still cute. “Titan Group.”

  “Sounds like they shouldn’t know where I live.”

  “But they do, so let me in.”

  She sighs. It’s more relenting than frustrated, and I know I’ve won. I just need to drive a last point home.

  My hand squeezes the phone. I’ll hang up soon as she opens. “Emma, you said you were miles away, not hours. I couldn’t stay away. I asked for help, and my buddy Parker pulled a solid.”

  “Ha. Thank Parker for me.”

  Cute plus a little bite. Emma’s coming back to me. I’ve got her voice, and I can picture her smile. This is ten times better than any medicine or therapy they gave me for being shot during war.

  “I can’t believe you’re outside.”

  “Good intel is good intel. Now open the door.” Nothing about this moment is planned. My heart’s in my throat. Little on earth scares me, but not knowing how she’ll react to this offensive maneuver makes me anxious. “I’m not standing out here all night.”

  “Of course you aren’t. My neighbors will call the cops if you stand out there.”

  I laugh, and my side hurts. But it’s a good kind of hurt. The wound is healing; I’m nowhere near one hundred percent, but I can feel my blood rushing, my body anticipating. It’s the best I’ve felt in years. “Come on, baby.”

  There’s a shuffling noise on the other end of the phone. “I hate that you’re forcing my hand.”

  But the door opens.

  Emma Kingsley.

  More beautiful than when I last saw her. My throat squeezes, and my pulse pounds in my neck, my temple. Fuck me… just… fuck me. Gorgeous. “Ems.”

  Her eyelashes flutter, and color rises to her cheeks. Her blond hair is wild. It’s longer and fuller than I remember, and my palms itch to run over it. I step closer. She doesn’t move, doesn’t invite me in. Just stares like a wide-eyed beauty.

  Here we are. Neither moving. I’m not breathing, and she might not be either. It’s intense. Thick tension pushes us together, but as the seconds tick by, we don’t move.

  “Are you going to let me in?”

  “I’m not sure.” She blinks slowly but then rushes forward, falling into my arms. She wraps around me, a sob escaping her lips, which are pressed against my neck. “Oh my God. I missed you.”

  We’re locked together. My skin tingles where her mouth brushed it. Her shampoo and faint perfume tease my nose. Her back, her hips, the way she hugs, it feels familiarly perfect. I breathe as I haven’t before. As if I haven’t been capable of taking in a deep enough or strong enough breath. Nothing’s felt right since the moment I left her. Three years of unsettledness gone in a hug. “I’m home.”

  “Home.” She nods against me, sweetly, innocently rubbing her body against mine. />
  Sweet mother of friction, her moves do good things to me. “Yeah.”

  Home in her arms has nothing to do with where we stand. This is where I’m meant to be, holding the girl I should never have left. She sobs, and I hold her tighter. My side wound aches, and I couldn’t care less. Nothing would stop me from holding her. There was never a second that I didn’t love her. She’s my everything.

  I drop my chin. My lips touch the top of her head and press. It’s not a kiss. More of a claim. This woman is mine. I’ll beg and plead, do whatever it takes. I’ve been a dead man walking for years, hurting and hardened, looking for an outlet and suffocating on my mistakes. I’ve been wrong. Been scared. Been a motherfuckin’ fool. The answer to my problems has always been right here, with her.

  “Baby.” I stroke her hair.

  She holds me tighter. “You feel… different.”

  I’ve packed on weight, filled out. I’m definitely bigger and stronger than when she saw me last. I let go and step past her. Her eyes watch me take in the barren room. Time has passed, but there’s heat coming from her. Need. Want. Arousal. Whatever it is, it’s thick between us.

  “Wow. So. You’re—” Her gaze lingers on my shoulders then my chest. “Like G.I. Joe or something.”

  A grin tugs on my cheeks. Shit knows I haven’t smiled for a long time. “Or something.”

  Because what am I anymore? I’m not Army. My time was up after I was released from Walter Reed, and I didn’t want to go back. Maybe I can do something different. Maybe I can figure it out as I go.

  I focus on what’s in front of me. The girl I’m never leaving again, her sparse furniture, and cardboard boxes. She’s all alone, and I can’t stay away. The need to take her mouth and have her body kills me. But more than that, I’d die to know what she thinks.

  “What are you thinking?” she asks, her voice hesitant.

  “Just wondering the same about you.” I leave out the part about her rockin’ body making me think dirty things. That’s nothing that I’m going to let her in on yet. “You did just move in.”

  She fidgets. Her eyes catch mine and jump away. “Yeah, not all our, my stuff is here. It’s just boxes.”

  “You look uncertain.”

  She bites her lip. “I’m a million things. Maybe nervous.”

  “Don’t be.” I catch her hand and study her. Her obvious unease fades. “Missed you, Ems.” My heart beats faster. This feels right.

  She stares up through her eyelashes. “Maybe there’s more.” Tension envelops us, and I drag my thumb over her knuckles. “I’m just caught off guard.”

  “More?” I step closer. My boots sound heavy on her barren wood floors as I erase the inches between us. There’s a tightness in my chest and a need in my blood. I’m starved for Emma, so hungry that it makes me lose my mind. I came here to win her heart, not jump in her pants, but my mouth’s watering like a starved addict’s. Everything I’d remember is back, but a thousand times stronger than I imagine. One thing is clear: we’ve never been over.

  “I can’t explain it.” Her lips part as she retreats, backing into the wall. The quiet thud echoes around us. “It’s just you.”

  Her breasts rise and fall behind a shirt that molds to her curves. She’s sexy, sultry, and sweet. I swear to Christ she does it without even trying. My cock’s throbbing. The only girl I’ve ever wanted is this one.

  “Can’t believe you’re here, Gray.” Arousal coats her voice, urging me on.

  “Feels like I never left.”

  “I know.” She’s breathy and quiet, but an intense fever lights her perfect brown eyes.

  A scrap of space remain between us, and she presses her palms flat against my stomach. It’s soft, not to stop me but to feel me. My head falls back. I take that second to own her touch, memorize the heavy power she holds over me, and I pray that I have whatever it takes to win her back. I need more than the carnal, primitive, possessive explosion that’s happening this second. I need Emma in order to survive. I need Emma as mine.

  “Baby, say back away if you’ve got some reason to stop. I have to hear the words because what your face says… ”

  Her cheeks flush pinker. With parted lips and wild eyes, her head tilts back. “Please,” she whispers.

  The slope of her neck screams for my lips. “You can say no, Ems, if you don’t want me with you tonight. But I’m giving you everything I have inside me, making up for every second apart.”

  An audible breath heaves from her lips. I cage her with myself, against the wall, and give her a slip of space. She has two choices: duck and run or hang on tight. It’s all her call. Until I start. Then I’m never stopping.

  “Grayson.” Tiny gasps mix with my name. Her fingertips flex, her fingernails digging into my abdomen, then her hands roughly crawl up my torso and clasp around my neck. “Don’t you dare leave me like that again.” Her face is harsh, then she softens.

  “Baby.” My hands meet her waist, grasp her sides. I feel her breathing like me. Uneven in cadence and choking on our tension. I touch my lips to her temple, and she quietly gasps, writhing against me. I trail to her ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Our foreheads touch. It’s partly sweet but mixed with a needy hunger.

  “But…” she whispers.

  “Don’t forgive me now.” I drag my lips down her neck. “Later, yeah. Now, no. Just let us happen.”

  She nods against my face. I hug her tight then lift her up, heading for the lone couch.

  Her eyes close. “There’s so much to… catch up on.”

  There’s fear in her voice. All I know to do is hang on. I swallow her up, and when I drop to the couch, she fits in my lap as though she’s supposed to be there. My nose is in her hair, my arms wrapped around her.

  “Look at me.”

  “No. I don’t trust myself to.” She shakes her head. Silk strands of her hair tease my cheek, but her gaze isn’t on me. “You show up, and we end up in bed. What kind of girl does that make me?”

  Easiest answer I’ve had to give all night. “It makes you mine.”

  Her eyes flit to mine.

  “Not a day went by I didn’t hate myself for what I did. Not a day I didn’t think you weren’t better off without me. I watched every man I served with bleed out. My unit was decimated. I was shot, bleeding out. Dying. And I begged God—begged—to get this moment with you.”

  Tears brim in her eyes. “I want to hate you—”

  “I’ll get us through that.”

  “I want to hate you…” The tears fall, slipping down her cheeks. “Because I still love you.”

  Fuck me, my heart squeezes. Everything in my soul hurts. “Emma.”

  I’m going to die if I can’t get closer. Her lashes are tear-dampened, her gaze unsure.

  My thumbs move over her cheeks. “I’ve always loved you, and that’s why this will work.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Grayson

  Emma’s tongue runs along her pink, full lips. I remember them all over me. We had years of friendship but not nearly enough time after things heated up. We’re older. Wiser. With experience on our side. I need her and whatever she’ll give me because, eventually, it will be all of her again.

  “Before, I should have taken better care of you. I promise I will now.” I guide her mouth to mine. Our lips touch. Good God, she’s so sweet. My tongue slides to her, making me groan when she opens for me.

  Her hands wrap around my shoulders, and she repositions to straddle me on the couch. Our breaths are choppy. Her legs press against my sides, and the wound hurts where her knee digs in. I don’t care. The pain, the certainty of her riding my cock, makes my body hum.

  “Missed you.” She’s kissing and biting.

  Those damn teeth come out when I’m not expecting it. Her hips flex, rubbing the V of her legs against my erection. There’s something more sensual about how she moves now, something practiced. I’m intoxicated with her sway, her confidence, and I’m drunk on her kiss.

>   Emma pulls at my T-shirt. I break us apart and tear it over my head. Anything to give her free rein, to feel her—

  “Oh my God, Grayson.”

  My bandage. Reality check. Not sexy, not even in the least. Eight-by-eight inches of gauze and tape. It’s not even needed at this point, but it keeps my shirt from rubbing the fresh scar.

  “Was I hurting you?”

  “Didn’t notice.”

  “Liar,” she whispers.

  Her face has always been her tell. She’s changing, reacting. Memories bubble inside me, and I’m reminded of the night Pops walked in. Her face had changed then too. But then, it was… fear, disgust, humiliation? Now it’s… hell, I don’t know what it is. “Emma?”

  She looks at my side then trails her eyes over my stomach, up my chest and arms, over the tattoos that weren’t there before, the bulk and definition I’ve put on over the years, and lands on my face. “Tell me the truth, you’re okay?”

  “Baby,” I growl, “I can’t think of a single thing that’d keep me from sliding into you.”

  Her mouth pops open. Three years have passed, and I guess no one’s said a dirty word to her. I’ll ease her into it, make her wet for it. Her high school crush is gone. I’ve been replaced by a broken soldier.

  Emma’s mouth closes into a slight smile, and I know she likes it. Her gaze drops again and retraces the same path—bandage, abs, chest, and tattoos—finally landing on my lips. Carefully, she leans forward, as if she’s scared to hurt me, and brushes her lips against mine. Shivers roll down my back. Her kiss is light at first. Delicate. Caring. Then it’s stronger, trailing down my chin, down my neck. I groan and roll my hips.

  Her tongue glides down to my collarbone, her teeth scratching.

  “Christ, Emma.”

  She slides off my lap, pushing between my knees. I can guess a million ways this could go, but there’s not a chance in hell that during our first time back together, she’ll end up with me in her mouth. This has to be unquestionably, unconditionally about her.