Emily hadn’t wanted him to work during the weekend, but he figured it was all right when she was sleeping.
They grilled steaks for dinner and ate them with pasta salad. Then, at Emily’s suggestion, they built a fire and toasted marshmallows for s’mores.
Paul enjoyed the evening more than he’d expected. Despite the fact that camping would never be his favorite activity, it was nice to feel all alone in the world with Emily. They felt far away from everything—including her illness, including the doctors, including her impending death. To his surprise, Paul managed to relax. He was feeling pretty good when they went to the shower facilities to clean up before bed, as they had the night before.
Since the clouds had blown away completely, leaving the dark sky teaming with stars, Paul couldn’t object when Emily demanded that they sleep outside tonight.
They hauled the air mattress out of the tent and made up the bed again between the tent and the SUV. He’d left the lights of the SUV on while they worked, so they would have plenty of light, but then he turned them off, leaving only the fire to illuminate the campsite.
Emily was obviously thrilled by the effect, and she climbed under the sleeping bag happily, looking over to him expectantly when he didn’t move. Like the previous night, she wore flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt, so at least she wouldn’t get cold, despite the nip in the air.
“Come look, Paul,” Emily called out when he emerged again from the tent, where he’d changed into pajama pants.
He went to join her and got into the sleeping bag. He rolled onto his back as she had and stared up at the sky.
“Look at them!” she breathed, gazing up at the brilliance of the stars.
Paul had never seen stars so bright. In Philadelphia, he could hardly see them at all, except from the terrace of the apartment—and even then they looked rather dim. But even in the outskirts there didn’t seem to be so many stars as this, and they didn’t twinkle so fiercely.
He smiled and turned his head to look at Emily. She was smiling too, and she met his eyes. They gazed at each other in silence for a moment, and Paul’s chest tightened with feeling.
Then she scooted over and pressed her mouth against his in a kiss.
He responded immediately, pulling her into his arms and rolling her toward him so she was sprawled on top of him. The kiss grew hungry very quickly—probably because Paul’s urgency got the better of him. His lips devoured her as his hands skimmed over her soft curves, settling on her ass and pressing her pelvis down against his. Even through the layers of thick clothing she wore, her body was warm and tempting.
Emily was soon as passionate as he was. She groaned and gasped against his mouth, and she wriggled against his body. Her hands clutched at his ribcage and then started fisting the fabric of his shirt.
It took Paul a minute to realize she was trying to pull his shirt off.
He broke the kiss for long enough to help her, yanking his t-shirt off over his head. She made a husky sound of satisfaction as her hands started to stroke his bare skin.
Paul’s groin was already throbbing, and the way Emily shamelessly squirmed against it was exquisite torture. With a moan, he rolled them over so she was on her back, and then he hurriedly started to remove some of her clothes.
She giggled when her sweatshirt got twisted up around her wrist. And she giggled again when she accidentally kneed him in the gut when he was trying to get off her pajama pants. Paul smiled but didn’t let himself laugh. He was so far gone now that, if he let himself laugh, he was afraid he would let go completely.
When she was finally naked, Paul slipped one hand between her thighs and was thrilled and gratified to feel how hot and wet she already was. She gasped and arched up when he fingered her gently.
The night air was cool on his bare skin, and the dying flicker of the fire cast orange light over Emily’s fair skin and rich curves. Paul stared down, mesmerized at the hot desire in her eyes, the way her lips parted, the way her neck arched in response as he pleasured her with his hand.
Then the sight of her luscious breasts, bared to his sight, tipped with very tight nipples, became too irresistible. He leaned down to take one in his mouth. He suckled her with as much skill as he could muster as he thrust two of his fingers rhythmically inside her.
“Oh God!” she gasped, “Oh Paul!” She huffed out a series of eager, breathless sounds that grew louder and louder as her body started to tighten. He could feel her shaking, feel her digging her fingernails into the back of his neck.
Then he felt her let go, coming in helpless spasms and shudders. He knew she’d come very hard—he could feel her clamping down around his fingers, and the contractions lasted a really long time. She was almost choking on the pleasure.
Wanting to make sure she got all the sensations he could give her, when the contractions finally lessened, he moved his thumb to her clit and massaged it thoroughly.
Emily arched up jerkily with a loud cry as another orgasm ripped through her. Her hips bucked up with the new sensations and kept riding out the waves on his fingers.
When she was through, the throbbing in Paul’s erection had become dangerously intense. He reared up, panting loudly and staring down at her again. Her body had relaxed, and her expression had shifted into a drowsy smile. “Wow,” she gasped. “That was…wow.”
With a muffled groan, he leaned down to kiss her hungrily again, overwhelmed with feeling, with primitive pride, with desire, with need. With need. With need.
“Oh baby,” he groaned, when he finally pulled out of the kiss. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” She was smiling as she fumbled beneath him until she’d managed to get her hands hooked around the waistband of his pajama pants.
Paul raised himself up some more so they could remove his pants. Then they were both naked under the sleeping bag, with the crisp night air and the light of the stars pulsing all around them.
He lined himself up at her entrance, briefly concerned that he’d have to hurt her again. But she was eager and impatient, and she didn’t let him dawdle. Soon, he was sinking inside her, and she was so, so tight, so wet and hot as her body gripped him hard.
She choked out a sound and arched up, but he thought it was from discomfort rather than pleasure. He held himself perfectly still and tried to focus enough to see her expression.
She’d closed her eyes and turned her head.
“All right?”
“Yeah. Just give me a second. Who would have thought you’d be so ridiculously big?”
He bit back a laugh, since laughter would be a mistake at this stage. His arms shook as he braced himself above her on the air mattress, and he had to force himself not to thrust.
“Okay,” she breathed, after not very long. Her body was beginning to soften now, relax. “I’m good.”
When she smiled up at him, he had to kiss her. It was lovely—a little clumsy but passionate on both sides—but then her inner muscles clenched around him, and it was so incredibly good that he reared up with a hoarse exclamation.
To his surprise, she giggled. “Was that good or bad?”
“Good,” he said, managing to get it together enough to press another kiss against her lips. “But if you make it that good for me too often, it won’t be very good for you.”
She clenched around him again, and he bit his lip over a groan. “Emily,” he warned.
She stroked his neck gently, distracting him with the pleasure the light touch aroused. And then she tightened around him once more.
Unable to hold himself back, he began to rock his hips urgently, releasing a long, throaty sound as the friction intensified both his pleasure and his primal need. She started to move her hips with his. And occasionally he’d feel another hard intimate clench.
The pressure in his balls tightened so quickly there was nothing he could do to hold it back. He tucked his head to the side and tried to make himself stop, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He thrust into her in fast, clumsy pumps, try
ing not to be too forceful, trying not to hurt her.
It didn’t seem to be hurting her. If her eager little gasps were any evidence, she was enjoying it as much as he was. Her hands had slipped under his arms, around his ribcage again. And her fingers were starting to claw at him as her own motion got more urgent and enthusiastic.
His vision blurred over as his body was washed with waves of hot and cold. He knew he was about to come, but he clenched his jaw and tried desperately not to come too soon, not to come before she did.
“Oh Paul,” she gasped, tossing her head back and forth beneath him. Her features were twisted with pleasure and effort. “It’s so good. Gonna come!”
“Yes,” he hissed, his hips completely out of his control now. He was rocking into her fast and hard, overwhelmed by how it felt to be moving inside her like this. “Come, baby. Come."
She dug her fingernails into his back and clawed lines there. The pain only intensified his pleasure. “Yeah. Oh God!” Her eager huffing suddenly transformed into a loud, hoarse cry as her body erupted beneath him, thrashing clumsily as she tried to ride out her orgasm.
“Emily,” Paul bit out. “Oh, fuck.” His pelvis jerked helplessly as the agonizing pressure clenched like a fist, and then it all unleashed, spasming out in hot, deep waves of pleasure.
He came hard, the release ripping through him almost brutally. The pleasure continued as he came inside her, emptying himself, filling her.
He collapsed on top of her the way he had the first time. She gathered him in her arms, panting as helplessly as he was.
After a minute, her hands started to stroke his back. He still couldn’t seem to lift his head.
“Are you all right?” she asked gently, after another long moment.
“Yeah,” he managed to say.
His body had relaxed, his arousal had softened. He felt deliciously sated.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
He kissed her neck a little clumsily but couldn’t seem to focus enough yet to have a real conversation. “Yeah. Give me a minute.” She didn’t understand—she couldn’t understand—how much sex with her took out of him.
It leveled him. Physically and emotionally.
After a minute, he managed to pull out of her. He rolled over onto his back, exhausted and replete. He turned his head to smile at her.
She smiled back and scooted over so she was cuddled up at his side. Instead of wrapping an arm around his middle like she normally did, she lay on her back so she could look at the sky too.
“We’re pretty good together,” she said. “At least, I think so.”
“No doubt about it.” Then, because he felt like she needed to know it, even if it made him more vulnerable than he was comfortable with, he added, “Best sex I’ve ever had.”
When she brightened with pleasure and surprise, he was glad he’d told her the truth.
But then her mouth quirked. “Me too.”
He chuckled and squeezed her with one arm.
“Have you ever seen stars like this?” she asked, gazing up at the sky.
“Never,” he admitted.
“Thanks for taking me here.” She turned her head for just long enough to press a kiss on his shoulder.
Paul released a long breath, trying to force from his mind the bleak reality he knew was waiting for him when he returned to Philadelphia. He felt too good—Emily felt too good beside him—for him to process all of that now.
All he said was, “Thanks for taking me.”
***
They got home from PEI at around ten o’clock on Sunday evening.
Paul was usually pleased to return to the apartment—since it was as close to home now as anywhere else—but tonight he felt a deep heaviness sink onto him as soon as they walked in the door.
The art and furnishings were familiar and in their usual pristine order, since Ruth had come by earlier in the day to clean, stock the refrigerator, and put fresh flowers in the vases. Camping had been surprisingly enjoyable and intimate, despite the few inevitable annoyances, but it hadn’t felt real. Returning to Philadelphia was like returning to the real world.
And Paul had trouble thinking of anything but the fact that time was running out for Emily. She had a virus no one knew how to fight, a virus that was killing her more and more every day.
There was nothing he could do to stop it.
As soon as they’d gotten home, he’d gone to the study and called the private investigation firm. He’d been told—not for the first time—that they would have some progress to report by Wednesday, as promised. Then he’d called Dr. Franklin, who had told Paul what he always told him. He was looking, but so far there was nothing to try except the very unlikely long-shots.
Those calls were the only direct action Paul could take about finding a cure for Emily. So he sat behind his desk for almost a half-hour, staring blindly at his computer screen and trying to suppress his stewing angst and frustration.
His father might have the answer, but he’d vowed never to ask his father for anything again. That vow was as close to the core of his being as anything was.
But he couldn’t lose Emily. He just couldn’t.
He wouldn’t.
There had to be something he could do to save her.
Even if he couldn’t keep her in his home, in his bed, in his life forever, at least she would be alive. At least she could be happy.
And now there was something else, nudging at the back of his mind. He couldn’t let himself think too far about this new possibility—since the faint hope hurt him so much—but he couldn’t help but occasionally wonder whether, if Emily lived, she might be persuaded to stay with him as his wife after all.
She obviously cared about him. Maybe…maybe…
It hurt too much to even hope.
And he had to save her first.
When he finally shook himself out of the brooding stupor, he tried to clear out some of the email that had collected while he was gone. Well before midnight, he just gave up.
He was too tired to think clearly, and he wanted to see Emily.
He found her in her bedroom. She’d just taken a bath, and she told him she was really tired too so she’d be coming to bed shortly.
So Paul went to take a shower to wash off the lingering remnants of camping. Emily was in bed when he emerged from the bathroom.
She didn’t seem very talkative tonight. In fact, she seemed unusually quiet. She was probably as tired as he was, though, and maybe she was feeling some of that same letdown on returning to the real world.
So Paul turned off the lights without saying much. He knew sex was off the table when she just cuddled up at his side, wrapping her arm around his middle and sighing a few times before mumbling goodnight. He’d taken care of himself in the shower—thinking she might be too tired for sex—so he wasn’t particularly pained by her decision.
She fell asleep almost immediately, but it took a long time for Paul to turn his mind off enough to sleep. He kept trying to find new options, come up with workable scenarios that would lead to a treatment for Emily.
Obviously, late night brooding led to nothing constructive. So, when he finally fell asleep, his arm still holding Emily tightly against him, his slumbers were shallow and restless.
Which was why he woke up immediately at almost three o’clock in the morning when Emily rolled away from his side.
He looked over at her in the dark room. She was huddled up in a ball, facing away from him. He reached over to feel her forehead and was relieved to discover she wasn’t unusually warm.
He tried to go back to sleep. He tried for countless minutes. But, so late at night, awake by himself in the dark, he couldn’t help but imagine with dread, with an agonizing pressure in his heart, how he would feel if Emily died.
He wasn’t sure how he would survive it. Just imagining it almost leveled him.
He tried to exert mental control and reorder his thoughts, focusing on the next item on Emily’s list—she wanted to
climb to the top of a volcano. There were any number of options for this, and he tried to figure out what she might enjoy most and what could be done with the least difficulties.
He’d almost succeeded in concentrating on this much more innocuous problem when he was suddenly aware that Emily was shaking on the other side of their bed.
He turned his head to look at her again. Saw her shoulders were definitely shaking. Then he heard a harsh intake of breath that she was obviously trying to hide.
He reached over and put a hand on her shoulder to pull her over toward him. “Baby, what is it?”
“Nothing.” She was obviously lying. Her whole body was shuddering now, and she was trying to pull away from his grip, pull into a protective ball. “Sorry I woke you up.”
“You didn’t wake me up. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing,” she tried again. She was still struggling to get away from him, but he wouldn’t release her. He managed to turn her over so she was facing him.
Even in the dark room, he could see her face twisting helplessly with an emotion she was trying to suppress.
He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, almost desperately. She was small and shaking helplessly. She felt broken, and he just couldn’t fix her.
He let her cry, fighting against the ache in his throat, but eventually he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Emily, please. You have to tell me what’s wrong.”
“I try…” She eased away from him and peered at his face with dazed eyes and a wet face. After a couple of choked sobs, she started again. “I try not to feel sorry for myself.”
He made a guttural sound of objection. “Of course you don’t feel sorry for yourself. I’ve never seen anyone braver than you.”
“But…but…camping was so good. I loved it. I loved being with you. And…”
Paul understood. He felt it too. It was horrible, just horrible, to come back, knowing what was waiting for them. “I know. Me too.”
She sniffed and shook some more, burying her face against his bare chest. Then she pulled back enough to say in a weak voice, “I try to be brave and face reality without flinching, but I just don’t want to die.”
Listed: Volume IV Page 7
