Chapter Twenty-One
Brad braced his wide, working man hand flat against the door, and just watched her through his heavy lidded gaze, the open question gone. Studying her now was a predatory man, who damn sure wasn’t letting her leave this room, but not in a way that instilled fear in Emily. In this large, stately master bedroom filled with western oil paintings, mahogany furnishings and a large four-poster bed, neatly made with a floral duvet whispering the sensual invitation she’d longed for; she felt wanted, special.
Hypnotized, Emily faced the bed and stepped closer, touching the soft cotton duvet, absorbing the enormity of this step. Brad’s arm slid around her waist and pulled her back into his intense heat. She couldn’t turn around if she wanted. The top of her head leaned back against his shoulder, and she could feel every well-formed muscle in his chest against her back. He gently caressed her shoulder, his rough hand sliding under her shirt, setting her skin on fire. He lifted her long brown hair and held it up, exposing her silky skin as he applied tender nips with his teeth in between each gentle kiss down the side of her neck. Emily tilted her head back; a gift to allow him more access.
He tucked her hair over her other shoulder, and then trailed the tips of his fingers around the outline of her breasts while unbuttoning her shirt slowly and skillfully, one button at a time, with his other hand. She was weak from the hardness of him pressing into her from behind. It was so erotic, with his height and strength. The heightened passion left her anticipating, exposed, and at the same time, feeling safe. He didn’t pause or fumble his way when smoothly opening her shirt and pulling up her bra to expose her breasts, as if he’d done this a thousand times. He then guided her down a sensual trail, an easy tug here and carefree twist there, massaging her nipple with his thumb, first one, and then the other. She reveled in his warm breath on her neck and shoulders, followed by a teasing path his tongue traveled over her exposed shoulder. He was driving her mad and she pulled at the arm anchored around her waist. But she couldn’t budge him or make him go faster. He decided what to do and set the pace, which was so like him. He unsnapped her jeans and pulled the zipper down, creating such painful pleasure by inching his hand down through her feminine curls, rubbing her, claiming the prize when he slipped a finger inside of her. She heard herself moan, and felt herself spiral up, and she lost any semblance of control as he began to move and stroke, in and out. She clutched his arm; lost in an intense burning desire, wanting nothing more than for him to bury himself in her, hard and deep. “Please. I need you inside me. Now, please, Brad.” Shameless, she begged, breathless, tossing her head side to side against his chest.
She felt the soft chuckle against the back of her neck. “Patience, Em, just enjoy.”
He slipped off her shirt and bra and finally turned her to face him. She reached up to undo the buttons on his shirt. But her fingers were clumsy and trembled with need. He stopped her by covering her hands with his, as she stood before him naked to the waist. Her breasts displayed and ready for his enjoyment; even after nursing Katy, her breasts remained firm and a proud sumptuous handful.
Brad stepped back, his eyes took on a lazy drunken hue and he undid his buttons, pulled off his shirt, dumping it in a heap on the floor. His chest and shoulders were even better to look at naked than clothed. Reminiscent of a Greek statue: solid pecs, six-pack abs with light brown chest hair curling a path down to his navel before disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. Could it get any better? No way. At least Emily couldn’t imagine how. Brad lifted her chin with his finger to meet the wide smile of his Cheshire grin.
“Soon.”
He reached his hand around to the back of her head and claimed her mouth once again. Deeper this time as his tongue mated with hers. He lifted her leg up over his hip, anchoring her as he pulled her to him and rubbed against her, long, thick and hard pressing into her. She reached for him fumbling with the buttons on his jeans, as he strained against the tight stretched material.
Brad lowered her leg, and unfastened his jeans. All the while rubbing his other hand up her thigh, gently squeezing all the way up to where it joined in the center.
He lowered her onto the floral duvet. Standing over her, he hurried to divest her of her sneakers and socks, pulling off jeans and underwear in one swift motion. She now lay naked before him. She felt the heat of his eyes penetrate every inch of her. He was studying her slim belly, the few stretch marks, the firm thighs, and dark curls at her core. It was instinctive for her to spread her legs open. She wanted him now. But when he moved toward her, he grasped her knees and spread them wide, holding her secure so she couldn’t move. He bent down and kissed her where she opened. The sear and jolt electrified her. Emily threw her hand up over her mouth, biting down on the meaty flesh to stifle the cry that erupted. He parted her with his fingers and she felt his tongue slide inside.
“Oh my God.” Did she whisper or scream, she didn’t know. Brad was a man in control. She was completely at his mercy. A place she’d never experienced with a man before, losing control as if she’d slipped over the edge on a wild ride at the fair. She reached out and grasped his short brown hair. Operating on pure instinct, she moved her hips, wanting him now buried deep and hard inside of her. He held her down and it hit her hard and explosively. Rippling through her, a burning intensity that spun and tilted her until she thought she’d come apart. Stifling her scream, she tossed her head from side to side.
She heard it again, in a far distant place, a different cry, not hers. Emily drifted in between bits and pieces of conscious reality away from the heavenly abyss where she floated. Awareness chilled her shaking, limp thighs; she was by no means sated, she needed him.
Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath and she heard it again. A crying child—Katy. Brad released her, swearing under his breath as he backed away, running his fingers though his hair. His desire sparked a bitter fire in his eyes. It’d see no relief.
Emily wanted to curse and cry for the moment lost, but her child came first—before her own needs. She rolled and slipped off the bed on shaky legs. She pulled on her shirt and stepped into her jeans. She lowered her eyes to pale blue carpet. Reality could be cruel, like a splash of icy water, uncertain. What now? She held her shirt closed as she hurried to the door, yanked it open, and hustled down the hall. Katy sat in the middle of her twin bed, rubbing her eyes, clutching her blue blanket and whimpering. Not a sound from Trevor; however, if she didn’t quiet Katy quickly, he’d soon be awake too, and that wouldn’t be good. Emily gathered Katy into her arms and kissed away her tears, lifting her up with her blanket and cradling her as she tiptoed across the hall to her room. “Shh, baby girl. Mama’s got you, shh.”
Katy rested her head on Emily’s shoulder. She grasped Emily’s open shirt with her tiny fists as her sobbing subsided. Emily walked in a circle and turned to the door. Brad leaned in dressed once again. The expression on his face was odd. Almost strange, one she’d never seen before.
“Is she okay?” His voice was gruff, but full of concern.
She whispered, “Yes. I think she just had a bad dream, she should go right back to sleep.” He said nothing, and he didn’t move. “You’re a good mother, Em. Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Her stomach ached with that awful empty yearning. Tonight with Brad was over now. She craved his touch, but she couldn’t will him back. The heavy lump in her throat hurt. In the darkness she held her daughter, listening to the soft click of his door. Emily closed her eyes tight, mourning her loss as she hummed softly, until Katy’s breathing evened out and she knew she’d fallen back to sleep.
Instead of putting Katy back in her own bed, Emily tucked her in her bed, watching her peaceful, angelic face. Emily slid off her shirt and realized she’d left her bra, underwear, socks, shoes, and sweater strewn on Brad’s bedroom floor. Emily winced when cold reality sank in; Brad may’ve come to his senses. First thing tomorrow, she’d retrieve her things in a walk of shame.
; Chapter Twenty-Two
A small hand nudged Emily, but Emily tucked the warm duvet higher under her chin—in her warm cocoon. She struggled to open her sleepy eyes, searching out the bedside clock; the red numbers flashed 6:10 a.m. For a moment her heart felt like it had expanded two sizes in her chest. She bolted upright, throwing back the covers and jumped from bed. How could she have overslept? She cursed under her breath at her own stupidity, she’d forgotten, in her funk of self-pity, to turn on her alarm. You idiot. She’d never relied on it anyway—she was usually awake at five a.m. But last night—well—what could she say? Talk about leapfrogging right over moral boundaries.
Emily dressed in yesterday’s jeans and pulled on a fresh shirt she'd yanked from her five-drawer dresser. Why didn’t Brad wake me?
Emily pushed back her tangled hair and noticed her door had been pulled closed. And piled on the overstuffed chair beside the door were her shoes, sweater and under things she’d left sprawled on Brad’s bedroom floor. Emily groaned as she pressed her hands over both warm cheeks.
“Mama, hungry.” Katy bounced on top of the bed in her pink ladybug pajamas.
“Okay, I know Katy. Just let me finish.”
Emily pulled a brush through her hair, yanking at the tangles a little harder than she needed. Then tied it back, and was downstairs with Katy a few minutes later. She plopped Katy on the couch with her baby blanket and flicked on the television. “You watch Treehouse; I’ll make breakfast.”
Emily darted around the corner into the kitchen, slamming into the solid wall of a man’s chest. Brad squeezed her shoulders and Emily felt her cheeks burn when she looked up into the mysterious eyes that appeared to brighten in the light of day. “I’m sorry, Brad. I overslept, I—”
He rubbed her shoulders in a familiar sort of way. “Don’t worry, Em. I didn’t wake you, I thought you needed the sleep. The coffee’s already made. We’ll be back in about half an hour. Is that enough time for you to fix something?”
He was being kind—no generous. And Emily was being a flustered, stuttering idiot; unable to jumpstart her tongue. “No… I mean, yes it is. Thanks. Sorry.” She winced and squeezed her eyes shut. But when she opened them, he hadn’t moved, even though he'd dropped his hand and no longer touched her.
He watched her with this magical twinkle sparkling in those all-seeing eyes, turning Emily’s insides to jelly. She’d no clue to what he was thinking. Did he regret what happened between them? That would be the worst. She wanted to ask, but was scared of what his answer might be.
Brad ran the back of his hand over her cheek. He paused; he studied, then dropped his hand and strode away. A man with a purpose.
It was instinctive to cover his imprint with her hand.
“Mama, hungry.”
Come on girl, back to reality. “Ah, Katy, just give me a minute.” She rushed to the fridge and took out two dozen eggs, kicking the door of the fridge closed behind her. In record time, she’d whipped up scrambled eggs and toast. She was just seating Katy as Brad, Cliff and Mac tromped in the back door, stomping the mud off their boots, discussing the recent feed order for the cattle.
“Good morning, Emily.” Mac said and Cliff nodded, as they scraped back their chairs and sat.
Pour the coffee. Take a deep breath. Here we go.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The crazy morning passed in a haze. Now Katy was down for her afternoon nap. Trevor wouldn’t sleep. So while Emily sipped a cup of tea; Trevor ran his cars over the fringed doily on the end table by the sofa, back and forth, repeating the same circle over and over.
Her feet ached and she couldn’t shake the sense of unease. Even Brad had pulled her aside after lunch, before leaving with the men, and whispered in his sexy confident drawl. “We’ll talk tonight.”
And my oh my, when she looked up into his eyes, the heat and meaning was clear. Maybe last night meant something to him too, and she lit up with an easy smile. “Okay.” He lingered for a minute longer, until the heated meaning seeped into her stubborn worried head.
The front door squeaked and rattled. Emily jumped, spilling a few drops of her hot tea on the scratched oak. “Shit.” She hurried around the corner as she heard the soft click, click of unfamiliar footsteps. Fear climbed in Emily’s throat and threatened to choke off any sound. She skidded around the corner to grab Trevor and froze. Time went into slow-mo-zone, where everything stopped and her senses were magnified a hundred times. A tall, leggy blonde, who could have stepped out of a fashion magazine, strode into the living room. Behind her were two large red suitcases propped inside the door. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman Emily had ever seen. Shapely, thin, curves in all the right places; a body that, at one time, Emily would have given her right arm for. She had the most magnificent, cat-like, blue eyes that took on an icy hue as she stared at Emily. She shed her expensive white leather coat, and tossed it carelessly over the easy chair. Her tight brown sweater and matching brown corduroys fit her like a second skin, in a tasteful way. Emily honed in on the salon-shaped eyebrows that didn’t quite match the fawn blonde hair. Her makeup was a skillful work of art. No contest who the beauty was, this woman, who Emily instinctively knew was Crystal, was Brad’s wife.
“Who are you, and why are you in my house?” Her words were sharp, cruel in a way that made Emily feel like the intruder. The good-looking blonde ran her eyes up and down Emily then looked away, dismissing her.
“My name’s Emily. Brad hired me to look after Trevor and—”
The woman cut her off with an impatient wave of her hand. Displaying her meticulous manicured nails, painted a vibrant red, and the large square diamond ring set in white gold on her ring finger.
“So, where’s the boy?” She asked with no particular interest; an ice princess with no plans to thaw.
Emily couldn’t find an intelligent word to say, she opened her mouth, and then shut it. She sought out Trevor, who watched the space between her and this woman, as he held his car and rocked side-to-side making his whoop, whoop noise. Emily dashed to Trevor and squatted down, redirecting him back to his line of cars. “Play with your cars, vroom-vroom, park it here.” She scooted around, the icy woman hadn’t moved. It appeared she wasn’t too keen on coming any closer. “Get him to stop that dreadful racket; I’m going to put my suitcases away. I’d like a cup of coffee. Bring it to me when it’s ready, dear.”
Emily’s back shot up ramrod-straight. What unbelievable gall. I mean really, she didn’t work for her and she wanted to tell her. But she didn’t, and the woman didn’t wait around for a response. She climbed the stairs with one suitcase in hand to Brad’s room.
Emily choked back the lump wedged in her throat, and her heart ached as if pushed through a meat grinder. She watched in disbelief and she’d swear the floor softened beneath her feet. It took a minute to realize it was Trevor screaming. She turned around as he tossed his car across the room, screeching over and over, “da, da, da, da”. Emily gave herself a good dressing down and focused everything she had left on Trevor, and calming him down.
She hurried to the TV, popped in a Peter Pan movie, one of his favorites, and held him while he flailed his arms until the opening music filled the room. He stopped, pulled away from Emily and stood a few inches from the TV screen, swaying back and forth. Where was Brad? Her head throbbed, beating at the base of her skull. The tension lingering in the room had sunk into her shoulders and her neck, to the point she’d swear her muscles would soon snap. Emily wandered and circled the kitchen. Katy was still asleep, it was impossible to slip out to find Brad. She dialed his cell, but it kept going to voicemail. “Brad, it’s Emily. Please call me, it’s really important.”
Emily wrung her hands. Then forced to kick out her ego, she caved and made coffee. What would Brad do? What was going to happen? What about her and Brad? She gazed up at the ceiling and threw her hands up. The timing of this was unbelievable.
The coffee maker beeped, and Emily viewed the dark brew as if were
a viper ready to strike. She lifted the pot and filled a pink floral mug, even though the muscles in her arms protested what she was doing. Don’t do it. You’re not a servant. Don’t let her treat you like this. Dump it down the sink and ignore her. Don’t let her treat you like this—stop. But she didn’t listen, she swallowed the heavy, hurtful lump that was chalked full of pride, and climbed the stairs while her heart broke a little more. She knocked softly on Brad’s closed door, and waited for the hateful woman on the other side to admit her.
“Come in.” The summons was light and airy from a voice that reeked of confidence. Emily pushed the door open. She didn’t seek out this rude intruder, but instead her eyes were glued to the large four-poster bed where less than twenty-four hours she’d lay sprawled naked for Brad. The floral duvet hadn’t been neatly made, but tossed in a heap in the middle of the bed, where a large red suitcase lay propped open, clothing strewn everywhere.
Crystal cleared her throat roughly. Emily jerked her head and spilled a few drops of coffee on her worn jeans.
“Here’s your coffee.” Emily extended the mug and dropped her eyes to the floor.
“Where’s the cream and sugar?”
So much for avoiding eye contact. “You didn’t say you wanted cream and sugar.”
“Oh, yes I did. Cream and one sugar and not that god-awful artificial sweetener. In the future be sure to remember that while you’re working here in my house.” The warning Emily picked up had nothing to do with coffee.
Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts Page 23
