by Scott, Shae
"Yeah. And maybe me too. We both changed. In the end neither of us were the people we were when we started. How does that happen?" she asks.
I move my chair, turning it to face her. I grab the edge of hers and turn her to face me. I need to see her face. It's too much to let her talk into the darkness. I need to see her eyes, her expression. What I see will haunt me long after this night is over. There is so much self-doubt there and it cuts me. How did he take all of the confidence from her? How did he manage to break her spirit? Why would he want to?
"Life takes us places we never expect to go," I say carefully. I'm holding back a wave of fury that I can't let her see. Something tells me she'd take it on herself and I'm tired of anyone making her feel anything less than worthy.
"Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake. With all of it. School, Gabe. I just jumped in and look where it got me."
I swallow and take her hands into mine, running my thumbs across the tops of her fingers. "Emery, you can't focus on what went wrong. You said yourself there was a time when you were really happy, right?" I ask.
"But what good is a touch of happiness if it ends up being a lie?" she asks seriously.
"Sometimes things just go bad," I offer.
"He saw other women," she says quietly. At first I'm not sure I heard her right, but the look on her face tells me the admission is ripping open wounds that have only just begun to scab over. My heart clenches at the pain that still rests in her eyes. "I've never told anyone that before," she admits.
"He was an asshole," I say. I can't help it. I can't hold back my feelings on the guy any longer.
She just nods. "At first I tried to pretend that I was imagining things. I tried to rationalize the signs, but he didn't even seem to care that I knew. Like it was just part of the deal. I tried to find the spark again, I bought all of the fancy lingerie, played the perfect wife. I even got some of those boudoir photos done so he could take them with him on trips. But none of it mattered."
My knee bounces restlessly and I’m thankful that I’ve about caught up to her in tequila or I may not make it through her story.
"He was with someone else the night he died." My eyes snap to her, shocked.
"Are you serious?"
"They were both killed. Karma I guess. I think that's part of why I'm so messed up. I can't decide if I'm sad or just really angry. I guess I'm both."
"That's totally understandable," I say through clenched teeth. I knew she was carrying a lot of stuff on her shoulders, but I had no idea she was dealing with this too.
"Can I tell you something else. Something I haven't said out loud to anyone?" She levels her gaze at me and I swear my heart stops beating for a moment as I try and guess what she might confess.
"Of course."
She swallows hard and her teeth sink into her lip as if she's trying to work up the courage to say what she wants to say. I lean forward in my chair, closing the space between us. "I'm a little relieved." She closes her eyes at the words, unable to face me. I instantly grab her hands and squeeze them between my own.
"Hey, Em, look at me," I say, but she shakes her head, refusing. "Baby, I'm serious, open your eyes." Finally, she does, one at a time and it's the cutest thing I have ever seen.
"You called me baby," she says softly. I did. I didn't mean to. But I don't take it back.
"Focus," I smile. She smiles back, nervously.
"Does that make me a horrible person?" She stares up at me with such hopeful, earnest eyes and it tears at my heart because I know that this has probably been killing her. This guilt.
"You are an amazing person," I say.
She starts to look away from me, as if she doesn't believe me, won't let herself believe. I take my hand and cup her chin, forcing her to look at me. "I mean it, Emery. You are amazing. Whatever he did, whatever he made you believe, is wrong. Anyone who takes the light from your eyes, the light I know that burns so bright in you, never deserved you. It doesn't bother me to say that about him, even if he is gone. I say it because it's the truth. I'd kick his ass if he were here. For not appreciating you. For not adoring you and cherishing every single moment that he had with you. Don't forget that he was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to get you to take his name. He should have spent every single day thanking you for giving him that."
Her eyes turn glassy at my words, and while I hate that I've made her cry, I won't take a single word back. Because I've been dying to say them for weeks.
"Thank you," she says softly and it makes me smile.
"For telling the truth?" I ask, giving her a teasing smile to help ease the heaviness that sits between us.
"For making me feel like maybe I did deserve more --." She lets the statement fall off, like she isn't quite brave enough to finish it.
"You know you deserve everything, right?" I say seriously. She shakes her head and I lean in closer, my hands running up her thighs. Her gaze drops to where I touch her, I didn't mean to slide my hands across her bare skin, but now that I have, my insides have sparked a flood of heat. It courses through me and makes my head spin. I watch as her tongue slowly moves across her lip, her focus still on my hands resting against her toned, tanned thigh. I graze my thumb from side to side, needing to soak in this moment where I'm touching her and she's not pulling away, not tensing up, not hiding.
"I haven't been touched in so long," she says quietly. "Even before he was gone he --." Again she lets the statement fall silent before finishing. She doesn't look at me; she only watches as my fingers draw lazy circles across her smooth skin. I should probably stop, but the closeness of our bodies and the smell of her shampoo have me wanting to pull her onto my lap.
"I miss it. That feeling of being desired. Of being touched. Devoured. Caressed. Sometimes it's easier to push it all aside and pretend that it's not important. But it is. Don't you think?" she asks, finally looking up to find my eyes. I'm sure she can see the fire there, the desire I have for her can't be hidden away, not at this moment. I see something flash across her expression, but she quickly schools it away and then sits back, putting space between us. It's only then I realize that I've barely taken a breath the entire time she was talking.
I nod, and try and clear my throat. I can't seem to find my voice. It appears every ounce of energy I have has been channeled into finding some sort of restraint. I swallow hard, because I'm not sure just how long it's going to hold out.
"I'm going to take some of this stuff inside," she says suddenly. She stands, breaking our connection and grabs up the bottle of tequila and the shot glass and walks inside to the kitchen.
I sit stunned after she leaves trying to calm my body down. Hearing her talk about how she misses being touched and adored has my dick straining against my jeans. The desire and the tequila cloud everything else that’s happened tonight. The stuff she shared with me was huge. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have done that if it hadn't been for the liquid courage. I like to think she can trust me, but tonight she'd opened up with things that I hadn't even guessed. I'm not really sure what to do with it all. I need time to process it. But all I can think about right now is that last little bit. The part where she confessed how badly she missed being touched. Caressed. Shit. How was I supposed to walk away after she said something like that?
I should talk myself out of following her inside. I should get up, walk back to my car and sleep off this tequila buzz. I should. But my body doesn't listen to logic. It's already standing and following her into the kitchen. The wooden door bumps shut behind me and she glances over her shoulder with a smile as she places the bottle and the empty glass on the counter.
I don't say a word as I move towards her, stalking her like prey. I should just say goodnight, but the need to touch her is overwhelming every bit of my good sense. I move to stand directly behind her, pressing my body against hers, my hands resting on her narrow hips.
I hear her breath catch and I smile at her instant reaction. I love the way she leans back into me, inviting
me closer without a second thought. The alcohol has dulled both of our reservations and has made it easier to do exactly what we want.
"I keep thinking about what you said out there," I say, my voice low as I move my lips across the soft skin of her neck up to her ear.
"Which part?" she breathes. It's sounds like a sigh or a purr. It has me hard as stone and aching to feel her.
I let my hands drift from her hips and up her sides and then I slowly ghost them back down. I feel her shiver beneath the touch and I know that I won't stop until I give her the release that she craves. I want to be the one to give it back to her.
"You deserve to be touched. Caressed. Devoured. Let me remind you what it’s like to be taken care of," I rasp as I drop kisses on the skin where her neck meets her shoulders. Her soft whimper has me pushing forward.
"I want to touch you, Emery. I want to give you everything that you need. She throws her head back and moves her body against mine, searching for everything she's afraid to ask for.
I wait for her refusal. I wait for her to tell me to stop. To go home. But she doesn't. She doesn't say no. She simply moves against me, arching her back, her head falling to the side, exposing her slim, beautiful neck to me. The lingering scent of gardenia from her lotion envelopes my senses and I brush my lips across her skin. The soft moan that escapes her is all the permission that I need to keep going.
This time when I run my hands up her body I slide them beneath her shirt, running my calloused fingers across the smooth silk of her skin. She feels warm, soft and firm all at the same time. My hands move up her bare torso until I find her breasts. She pushes into my hands, rubbing the lace against my fingertips as I take a handful and tease her nipples through the material. I've barely started touching her and we're both strung so tightly that I fear where this abandonment of caution will take us.
She continues to let out soft moans as I move my lips across her skin and it ignites desire deep inside me. The kind that I've saved only for her. I slide my hands back down her body until they rest at the waistband of her shorts. My fingers release the button closure and I hear her soft gasp. I pause to see if she'll ask me to stop, but she only pushes against me and reaches her arm up and back so her fingers are twisting into my hair.
Green. Light.
Keeping one hand on her hip, holding her steady to me I slowly slide the other one into the opening of her shorts. I tease the lace panties beneath and feel her tug against hair. It makes me smile against the smooth skin of her long, delicious throat.
Finally, I let my fingers travel past the material and skim across her delicate areas. "You like this. You’ve missed the way this feels," I rasp into her ear. She squirms, her body begging me to stop with the feather like teasing and give her what she needs. I slip my finger past her folds and use her wetness to cover her clit as I move across it with steady strokes. I swear I can already feel her body begin to shiver, like a coil that is pulled too tight. She is a hair trigger waiting to be tripped.
I slide a finger inside her and begin to move it slowly. In. Out. My thumb rubbing her clit and bringing her to the brink of something she's gone way too long without.
"That's it, baby. Just let me take you where you need to go," I say as I slide a second digit into her wetness. She moves against me and I press into her from behind grinding my hard cock against her so she can feel what she's doing to me. "Do you feel that? Don't let anyone tell you that you aren't desirable. Don't let anyone ever make you feel less than perfect. Because you are fucking perfect. You are sexy as hell. You are everything, Emery. Everything." And she let's go. Just like that, she is falling apart around me, crying out and nearly collapsing to the floor. I grab her up and turn her around so that her back is against the counter and take a moment to admire the blush in her cheeks and the fire in her eyes. God, she's beautiful.
I should let her catch her breath, but the need to kiss her is so overwhelming that I can't deny it. I take her face in my hands and pull her to me, covering her lips with my own. She circles my neck with her arms and gives back exactly what I'm giving her. Our kiss deepens as we grip and pull at each other in an effort to close any distance between us.
I grab her waist, lifting her so that she's sitting on the counter. She immediately wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me in for another kiss. I can taste the tequila on her lips and it's the only thing reminding me why fucking her on the kitchen counter is a bad idea. But I want to. I want to more than I want anything else. But I know that tonight is about her. Her pleasure.
I break the kiss, but hold her gaze as slowly lift her shirt up and over her shoulders. Her chest rises and falls quick and shallow as she watches me. Tossing the shirt aside, I slide my hands up her back and release the clasp of her bra catching the lace as it falls, revealing her perfect breasts. I cover one with my mouth, flicking my tongue across her hardened nipple. Her head falls back and she lets out the softest of whimpers. I give her other breast the same attention before kissing my way down her stomach. She's tastes like sugar. How does her skin taste like sugar?
"Lie back." My voice is rough and thick in my throat. My entire body hums with desire and need, need to watch her fall apart again. The need to give her everything she’ll ever need. Once she is on her back I slide the tiny shorts over her hips and down her legs. Once they are gone I kiss my way back up her thighs and repeat the process with her sheer panties.
"Cole," she sighs, anticipating my next move.
"I'm right here, baby. Let me take care of you."
The moment my tongue touches her she moans. It's the sexiest damn sound in the world. My fingertip hold on her thighs tightens as the sound ignites pure fire in my veins. I take my time, teasing her with my tongue, flicking it against her sensitive bud and when she starts to move beneath me, seeking more I can't help but smile against her.
I've tasted Emery James before. These are not lines that have not been crossed, but somehow it is so much sweeter than any memory I have from our past. For me it feels like the first time, the first taste. It awakens a need in me that I'm not sure I'll ever satisfy. Not that I ever want to. I want to fall under her spell and live out the rest of my days there.
"Cole," she whimpers as I suck and lick every part of her.
"Feel it. Feel everything," I urge as I sink my teeth into her inner thigh. She moans louder her fingers tight in my hair, pulling me closer, her feet braced on my shoulders as if she may shoot off of the counter if I don't hold her down.
I slide one finger into her wet entrance, followed by a second, needing to see her teeter on the edge of pleasure once more. She's so close, I can feel her legs shake around me, feel her breaths as they come out in sharp, shallow staccato.
Part of me wants to keep her from falling over the edge so I can keep her just like this, wanting, needing, so lost to the world that she's only feeling this. But the need to see her come, to fall apart at my hands one more time is enough to push her over.
She screams out my name as her entire body quakes. It's so erotic that I feel like I might just come in my jeans from the sound. Shit, I wish I could just stand up and slide into her, bury myself so deep that I am lost in her.
Instead, I adjust myself painfully and kiss a path up her body until I pull her up and wrap my arms around her. She's shaking, but she looks completely relaxed. She buries her head into my neck and I kiss her shoulder, lightly drawing circles on her back with my fingertips while her breathing returns to normal.
If I said I wasn't worried about her reaction, I'd be lying. There is a big part of me that is afraid I went way over the line here. Still, I can't find it in me to regret it at all. Not when I know she needed it. She needed to feel the rush of pleasure, the desire, the need.
She pulls back and looks at me with sleepy, tipsy eyes. I hold my breath like I'm waiting on a verdict to be handed down. Not for the performance, but for my honor maybe. After all, I did promise her to be a gentleman.
"Thank you," she says simply cuing up
my cocky grin.
"Anytime," I promise.
"I don't think I can walk," she admits with a giggle.
I laugh, "Grab on."
She smiles and wraps her legs tight around my waist and her arms around my neck. She's completely naked and the feel of her pressed against my cock has me trying to concentrate on anything else besides how good she feels.
"Ready?" I whisper against her ear. She shivers in my embrace and nods her head.
"I'm ready."
Carrying her, I kick the back door shut and lock the door and then turn off lights as I move through the house. When we make it up to her room. I move to set her down on her feet so that I can pull the covers back, but she clings to me like a monkey and grunts out a protest.
This girl will be the death of me.
"I'm trying to put you to bed," I grumble.
I feel her mouth kiss my Adam’s apple and the painful bulge in my pants strains against my zipper even more.
"Em," I warn.
"Stay here with me tonight, Cole," she says.
This time I do set her down, not that the little bit of distance helps me gather my thoughts, because she's still standing there completely bare and tempting in front of me.
I swallow hard and then turn away from her, moving to her dresser. I open the drawers and find a t-shirt and bring it back over. "Arms up," I say. She does as I say, but her eyes lock on mine and don't move. She barely blinks as she holds my gaze.
"Bed," I say, my voice coming out nearly pained. Restraint is hard after tequila.
"Cole," she says my name, still waiting for me to respond to her request.
"Just get into bed, Emery," I beg.
"I want you to stay here with me. You can't drive and I want you here," she says. Her eyes are so honest that I'm considering it even if it's the worst idea ever.
"I don't think it's a good idea, James," I argue.
"We'll just sleep," she says taking my hand and pulling me towards her. "Please. I need to feel close to you."
"Baby, do you know how hard it will be for me to be that close to you and not touch you? I'm already close to the edge from what happened downstairs."
