Listed: Volumes I-VI

by Noelle Adams

  As she stared down at the little ice-skater spin to the music, she choked on a mingling of laughter and tears.

  The last gift she opened was even smaller. When she pulled away the paper, she revealed a velvet jewelry box. She gasped and looked up at him questioningly.

  He gave a diffident shrug and hoped she wasn’t going to be upset by it. She’d loved the music box, but she wouldn’t know how expensive it was. This gift was obviously expensive.

  She opened the box very slowly and gazed down at a deceptively simple diamond and emerald bracelet. He’d looked all over the place for an antique bracelet to match her ring and necklace, but everything was either ugly or unwearably ornate. So he’d resigned himself to a custom bracelet that would work with her other jewelry but she would still feel comfortable wearing. It was an elegant platinum strand of alternating square diamonds and emeralds.

  In his search, he’d seen several other pieces of jewelry—beautiful and full of character—that he’d wanted to buy for her, but he’d been afraid she wouldn’t accept them. Since this bracelet would work with the jewelry she already had, he didn’t think she would refuse it.

  When she just stared down at the bracelet, he started to get nervous. “I think it will match,” he said at last, “But if you don’t like it—”

  “Don’t like it?” she choked, finally looking up at him. “It’s beautiful, Paul. But you shouldn’t have—”

  “Of course, I should have. It’s your birthday.”

  He stood up and went over to take the bracelet out of the box. Since she was sitting on her knees on the ground to unwrap her presents, he lowered himself to his knees beside her. He delicately placed the bracelet around her left wrist and clasped it.

  The lights on the patio glinted on the stones of her ring and her bracelet, set off by her fair skin. They both gazed down at the effect.

  “It’s perfect,” Emily said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a soft hug. “You really shouldn’t spoil me so much. But thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  Paul hugged her back, pleased that she’d appreciated his efforts. He ignored her admonishment about spoiling her. Of course, he was supposed to do that. If anyone deserved it, Emily did.

  * * *

  Emily was taking a shower when Paul came into their bedroom that evening. He blinked when he saw there was a wrapped present on the bed.

  He walked over and looked down at it, even more surprised when he saw a plain white card tucked under the blue bow on which was handwritten in Emily's script, “Paul.”

  Since the gift was obviously for him, he untied the bow and slid his fingers under the folds of paper to unwrap it.

  Inside was a framed photograph of him ice-skating with Emily last week. It wasn’t the notorious photo of them almost kissing that was plastered all over. This one showed the two of them holding hands as they skated. They were looking at each other, and both of them were smiling with transparent happiness.

  He had no idea how Emily had gotten it. Then he realized there was a note. He picked it up to read.

  Thank you for making me happy. I didn’t want you to forget that you were happy with me too, at least for a little while.

  Paul couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t swallow. The ache in his throat was unbearable.

  That pitch-black shadow in the back of his mind loomed forward to swallow him up as he thought about a time in the future when he’d have to look back, when he’d only be able to remember being happy with Emily.

  He stared at the picture for a long time. Reminded himself that he had expert investigators looking into his father’s research facility, where they might find a cure. Eventually he was able to force the shadow back. Eventually he was able to breathe.

  Then Emily’s light voice came from the doorway to the bathroom, “I contacted the guy who took that other picture. He’d taken this one too, and he sent it to me. I thought it was nice.”

  “It is,” he said, far too hoarse. His eyes hadn’t moved from the photo. “It is. Thank you. You didn’t have to give me a present.”

  “I know, but it’s my birthday. I can do whatever I want.”

  His eyes cut up to her for the first time, and he swallowed hard when he saw her. She was wearing another little gown—this one lavender and a little clingier than the one she'd worn last night.

  His defenses had already been battered too far this evening. His body leapt to immediate attention, and he might have made a soft sound in his throat.

  Emily came over and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. She looked down at the picture he still held.

  “Paul,” she said. Her voice sounded a little strained, but he couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out why. “I know that we’ve been working on the assumption that we aren’t…that we aren’t going to consummate our marriage. And I was all right with that, particularly when I thought you weren’t interested.”

  He stared at her, dazed and uncomprehending.

  “But,” she continued, her eyes darting self-consciously from his face to the photo, “but it seemed like you might be interested last night. At least a little. And I would really like to…to be married to you all the way. So I thought maybe we could talk about …” She took a shuddering breath and looked away from him, as if she was too embarrassed to continue. “I’m eighteen now. Does it make any difference to you?”

  He kept staring at her, trying to process whether she was saying what he thought she was saying, what he desperately wanted her to be saying. It shouldn’t matter—he should be strong enough to resist no matter what.

  But he just wasn’t.

  He wanted her desperately, and she seemed to be offering him exactly what he wanted.

  “I’ll understand if it’s not what you want,” she hurried on, when he didn’t answer. “And if you say no, I promise I’ll never bring it up again. I don’t want to make you feel guilty or awkward or anything. You’ve done so much for me. You don’t have to do this, unless…unless you want to.”

  He knew he needed to say something, since her voice had grown stretched and uncertain. His mind and body had started to throb in excitement, in hunger, in a thrilled kind of satisfaction.

  He wanted her. So much. And she could be his.

  “Paul?” she prompted, peering at his face now. Her hands were twisting nervously in her lap.

  It was that last sign of her nervousness that finally prodded him into action. He reached over and covered both of her hands with one of his. “I do. I do want to.”

  She gasped, her face transforming with a slow kind of excitement. “Really?”

  He nodded, a little stiffly. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “I do. Want you.”

  Her hands had shifted in his grip until both of hers were clutching his. “So we can…”

  “Yes.”

  “Tonight?”

  Paul swallowed hard, the shattered remnants of his old defenses now in rubble at his feet. He didn't even care. “Tonight. If you’re sure it’s what you want.”

  “I’m sure,” she said, her face glowing in that way that had always taken his breath away. “I want you too.”

  Paul wasn’t sure who moved first—he thought it was probably him—and they were suddenly kissing.

  Since they were sitting side by side on the edge of the bed, he took Emily’s head in both of his hands and pulled her toward him more closely, brushing against her lips lightly with his and then sinking into a deeper kiss.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she made a pretty moan in the back of her throat as his tongue stroked her lips, her tongue, the inside of her mouth. A swell of pleasure and primitive pride rose up inside him when he heard the husky sound she made and felt her body respond eagerly to his embrace. He was already hard, but his arousal intensified as the kiss grew deeper and more urgent.

  When he felt one of Emily’s hands stroking the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck, the stimulation was so torturously good that his hips gave a t
ight, involuntary buck, causing him to momentarily lose his stability and fall backward onto the bed. Emily moved with him, passionate and eager. She found his mouth again and continued the kiss, rubbing herself against him, her breasts against his chest and her pelvis against the bulge in his trousers.

  Paul almost lost it then and there, his body wound so tightly from weeks of wanting her desperately. He pulsed with need, possessiveness, and satisfaction at finally being able to touch her, to feel her, to have her this way.

  The spasm of hot tension in his groin, warning of an involuntary release, broke through the blur of his feelings. He tore his mouth away and stared up at her as she sprawled on top of him.

  Both of them were gasping, but Emily’s flushed face suddenly twisted with distressed frustration. “Please don’t stop, Paul,” she rasped, her hands fisting in his shirt. “Please don’t stop again.”

  “I’m not stopping. Not for long, anyway. I just need to think for a minute. We need to…” He was vastly relieved when she hauled herself into a sitting position on the bed, her legs folded and tucked under her butt. Freed of her weight and her irresistibility on top of him, Paul found some leverage with this legs, which were still hanging over the side of the bed, and sat up too. “We just need to take a minute first.”

  “Okay,” Emily said. Her mouth gave an unexpected little quirk. “I guess I can refrain from jumping you for a few more minutes. As long as it’s just a few.”

  He gave an involuntary breath of laughter at her wry humor, which did nothing to help the tenuous condition of his arousal.

  He was suddenly absolutely certain that he wouldn’t be able to last through a couple of minutes of foreplay, much less any sort of satisfying intercourse. It was painful to admit such a thing to Emily, whom he only wanted to impress, but it was better than embarrassing himself completely before he managed to get his clothes off.

  “I’m going to take a quick shower,” he forced out, rubbing some of the perspiration off his forehead. “I’m not sure I smell very good and—”

  “You smell fine,” Emily interrupted, looking highly indignant either at the suggestion that he was less than fragrant or at the idea of waiting until he’d taken a shower, “You don’t need a shower.”

  Touched at her response despite his physical condition, Paul explained the truth. “I won’t be long. But, if I don’t take the edge off first, this is not going to be very satisfying for you.”

  She stared at him for a minute. Then her face transformed with understanding, with a touch of self-consciousness, and with something like pleased pride. “Oh. Well, you don’t need to do it in the shower. I’m happy to help you—“

  Paul leaned over to give her a quick kiss. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll feel better if I have a shower anyway. I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Okay.” She watched him as he stood up, holding himself very tensely, “You’re not going to change your mind in there, are you?”

  “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  Paul took a few deep breaths when he closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower. He desperately needed to pull himself together if he was going to make it through the evening with any sort of pride intact and if he was going to please Emily the way she deserved.

  He took care of himself under the spray, coming embarrassingly quickly at the image of Emily waiting for him in his bed—flushed, tousled, and impatient in her little nightgown. He lathered up efficiently and rinsed off. When he stepped out of the shower to dry off, he felt more like himself.

  And he’d realized a couple of things they needed to talk about before they got swept away by lust again.

  He pulled on a pair of pajama pants before he left the bathroom. When he opened the door, he saw that Emily had gotten off the bed. She’d put the clothes she’d been wearing earlier in a hamper and she’d set the gift and card she’d given him on the dresser. Now she was turning on the bedside lamp.

  She turned around when he emerged and gave him a narrow-eyed look of scrutiny.

  “I said I wasn’t going to change my mind,” he told her. “Don’t look so suspicious.”

  “Well, I hoped not, but I wasn’t sure.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. She was smiling at him, but she also looked a little self-conscious. And a little nervous.

  Paul went over to sit down next to her. “Do we need to use some sort of protection?” he asked, trying not to hold his breath. He wasn’t sure if there were any condoms in this house, since he hadn’t lived here for years, but he’d make sure he found some if Emily wanted him to.

  She shook her head. “Obviously, I wouldn’t want to get pregnant only to die in a few months, but I’m infertile, remember? And since you haven’t slept around in a while and since disease is kind of a moot point for me anyway, we should be fine.”

  He nodded slowly. “Are you a virgin?”

  Her cheeks reddened even more, but she met his gaze in almost a challenge. “Yes.”

  Paul knew he shouldn’t be pleased. It was an irrational, archaic, unworthy response.

  But he was.

  Emily stuck her chin out, obviously misreading his expression. “But that fact is irrelevant. I want this, Paul, and it doesn’t matter if I’ve had sex before or not. It’s not like I haven’t had the chance. It just…it just never felt right.”

  He reached out to cup her cheek with one of his hands. “Are you sure it feels right now?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure.” Then a teasing smile flickered briefly on her lips. “So, if it’s not too much trouble and you don’t need another minute, will you please make a move?”

  He leaned into a kiss, taking her head in both of his hands the way he had before. But this time, he kept leaning forward, gently pushing her down onto her back so she was sprawled out sideways on the bed.

  She twined her arms around his neck and held him tightly as she opened to his kiss and arched up into his weight.

  Paul kept kissing her, pulsing with hunger and excitement. As they kissed, they managed to adjust their position on the bed so their heads were near the pillows, if not exactly on them, and their legs were on the bed all the way.

  After a few minutes, Paul’s mind was a hot blur, and Emily was squirming impatiently beneath him. He finally released her mouth, hearing her gasp desperately as he trailed his lips along her jaw and then down her throat until he’d found a lovely hollow at the juncture of her neck and shoulders.

  “Oh God!” Emily gasped, clutching at his head as he applied suction to her skin. She was trying to pump her hips against his weight, and she couldn’t seem to hold herself still. “Paul!”

  He couldn’t help but be thrilled that she was so responsive, so eager already, when he hadn’t gotten any farther than her throat. He’d always known she lived her life passionately, letting herself go without inhibition when she felt it was safe.

  He just couldn’t believe she was letting herself go this way with him.

  His arousal already tightening again, despite the relief he’d gotten a few minutes earlier in the shower, Paul moved lower down her body, nuzzling the soft swell of her breasts. She arched up into his mouth, and he brushed one of her nipples with his lips through the cotton of her gown.

  She made a delicious breathy sound in response, so he did it again. And then again. And then he took the very tight nipple between his lips.

  She sucked in a ragged breath and dug her fingernails into the back of his neck, arching her spine even more.

  Hotly pleased by her response, he moved his mouth to her other breast, twirling the nipples he’d just been sucking with his fingers as he teased the other one with his mouth.

  Emily made a little sobbing sound, her head tossing on the pillow, mussing her hair.

  He pleasured her until she was writhing uncontrollably and trying to rub herself against his thigh.

  “Paul, please,” she begged at last, her hands clutching desperately at his shoulders. “I need…I need…”

  He knew wh
at she needed. He lowered himself even farther down her body, stroking down her belly and hips until he’d reached her thighs. Then he caressed his way back up, pushing up the fabric of her gown as he did. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her underwear and pulled it down her legs.

  Paul stared down at her as he bared her intimately to his sight. Her belly was mostly flat, with just a delicious little outward curve. It was shuddering with her fast breathing. Her hips were as lush as he’d known them to be, and the little strip of hair between her thighs seemed to be inviting him in.

  He realized he was breathing as rapidly as Emily was, and he was fully erect again, the coiled pressure pulsing urgently.

  He suddenly hoped he’d be able to last long enough to please her.

  “Paul?” Emily prompted. “If you’re just going to stare, maybe I should resign myself to taking care of my—”

  “I’m going to take care of you,” he interrupted, managing to angle a dry look at her face. “Just give me a minute.”

  “These minutes are getting to be annoyingly long.” Her voice was wry, but her expression was soft. He could also see some lingering shyness there, and he knew he needed to be careful to not embarrass her, no matter how much he wanted to gaze down at her luscious body and howl.

  He lowered his mouth, nuzzling between her thighs and suddenly overwhelmed by the visceral scent of her desire .The noise that escaped his throat as her fragrance hit his senses was so primal, almost animalistic, he couldn’t believe it had come from him.

  “Paul,” Emily breathed. Her hips squirmed restlessly, and her hands had curved around his head, tangling in his hair.

  He lifted his head to meet her eyes—saw she was torn between desire and self-consciousness. The desire needed to win out, so he stroked her thighs gently until she’d parted her legs for him. Then he slipped one of his hands in between.

  She made a little sound when he touched her. She was warm and soft and slick. When his finger slipped inside, his breath hitched as he realized how wet and ready she was. For him.

  He pumped his finger a few times, causing her to respond in clumsy little bucks of her hips. Then he pulled out his finger, now wet with her moisture, and caressed her flesh until he’d found her clit.