How could she be curled against him, so trusting like that? After what he had done.
Why had she even come back here with him? He hadn't suggested it, hadn't bothered asking her. He just drove, like he couldn't get away from the cemetery fast enough. And he sure as hell hadn't been thinking. It was like he had been on autopilot, his mind completely blank.
No, not blank. But he had definitely shut down, forcing himself not to think as he drove. And he had come here, back home, wanting only to escape.
And Emily had been with him.
She didn't say a word and he wondered if she had been just as drained, just as lost, as he was. Like they were both shell-shocked.
So he had led her inside, offered her something to drink, sat down beside her. Neither one of them said a word.
Who had drifted off first? Did it matter? No, not when they were both stretched out on the sofa, their bodies pressed together.
JP glanced to the right, frowning as he tried to figure out what time it was. The light coming in between the curtains framing the French doors was gray, watery. Afternoon, definitely. But early afternoon? Later?
His gaze slid to the expansive entertainment system along the far wall. The digital clock was nothing more than a steady blink, the time frozen at 12:00 because he had never bothered to reset it. His cell phone was just out of reach on the oak coffee table, useless right now for learning the time.
And why did he suddenly care what time it was? He had nowhere to go, nothing to do.
He turned his head, letting his eyes drift down to Emily's hand, resting so still against his chest. The light weight of it against him, the slight warmth of it, was reassuring, and he wasn't sure why.
Before he could stop himself, before he could think too much about it, he eased his right hand down and gently took her hand in his. Her fingers curled around his, just a small movement, like she was seeking reassurance or taking comfort in her sleep.
It felt so small in his, her skin paler and more delicate against the rough skin of his own hand. He ran his thumb along her finger, gently stroking it as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes once more.
Time drifted away, the silence of the house surrounding them, cloaking them. JP drifted off again, maybe a few minutes, maybe longer. But he came awake as soon as Emily stiffened beside him and he knew without looking that she already regretted being here.
He tightened his arm around her for just a second, then released her when she pushed against him and tried to sit up. Their legs tangled together and she uttered a small sound of surprise as she pulled her hand from his.
JP opened his eyes, not daring to look at her, then eased himself to a sitting position. Emily did the same, quickly sliding away from him, putting space between them. He ran his hands over his face then up through his hair, willing his mind to completely wake up before he finally turned and looked at her.
Her back was rigid, almost uncomfortably straight as she sat on the edge of the sofa. Her head tilted forward and her face was hidden by a fall of honey-colored hair. He didn't need to see her face to know she was embarrassed, uncomfortable. Tension hummed around her, from the set of her shoulders to her hands, tightly clasped in front of her.
JP wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and hold her, reassure her. But he didn't move, worried that she would bolt from the sofa if he did.
Long minutes stretched around them, turning the silence into something oppressive and uncomfortable. JP shifted, turning to the side so he could better see her. And then he reached out and brushed the hair from her face, the silky strands soft against his finger as he tucked it behind her ear.
She jumped at his touch and he pulled his hand away, cursing beneath his breath. He didn't want her to jump at his touch, didn't want her sitting there, so stiff and cold.
She finally looked at him, her blue eyes wide in her pale face. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, what she was feeling. And he suddenly wanted to know.
He slid closer, waiting to see if she would move away or even stand up. But she didn't move, just kept looking at him with those wide eyes. So he reached out and cupped her cheek against his palm, his thumb gently stroking the soft fullness of her lower lip. And still she didn't move so he slid even closer, slowly, hesitantly, afraid that each inch would cause her to push him away and jump from the sofa.
And then he was next to her, their legs touching, the heat from her sleep-flushed body seeping into him.
"Jean-Pierre." She whispered his name, the sound nothing more than a soft breath between them as he lowered his face to hers.
And gently, so gently, he pressed his lips to hers. Not claiming, not forcing, just barely touching. Waiting. She stiffened at first, her hand closing around his wrist. He waited, wondering if she would push him away, if she would get up and put distance between them.
But then her body relaxed and she leaned closer, sliding her hand down to his chest. He pressed his mouth closer, coaxing now, his tongue sweeping the crease of her lips until her mouth opened under his.
Warm, welcoming.
He swallowed her soft sigh as his tongue plunged deeper, searching, exploring. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair that curled past the collar of his shirt. Desire flared, sudden, hot, intense.
JP cupped her face with his hands and deepened the kiss, needing more, so much more. He wanted to lose himself in her, needed to find an escape from the hell of this morning.
No. He wanted her. Emily. All of her.
He dragged his mouth along the delicate line of her jaw, down to the soft skin of her neck. Her head dropped back, her hand cupping his head as he kissed and nipped and licked.
He eased one hand to the hem of her sweater, pushing the soft material up, sliding his palm along the warmth of her smooth skin. Up to the soft mound of one firm breast. He stroked the hard peak of her nipple through the smooth fabric of her bra, felt it tighten it even more under his touch.
"Jean-Pierre." Her throaty whisper stroked the heat growing inside him, encouraging, empowering. He groaned and slid the sweater up, pulling back enough so he could pull it over her head.
He tossed it to the side and looked at her, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin, of her small firm breasts and the hardened peaks of her nipples pushing against the fabric of her bra.
He groaned again and pushed the straps of the bra from her shoulders, pulled the material down to bare her breasts to his hungry gaze. He cupped each breast in his hands, his thumbs teasing each hardened nipple. Then he leaned down and closed his mouth around one tightened peak. Licking, sucking. Her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. Her back arched, giving him fuller access as he feasted. First one breast, then the other.
Her fingers tightened in his hair, her hands holding his head in place as he sucked and nipped and teased. His cock hardened, the erection nearly painful against the worn denim of his jeans.
He reached down and popped the snap of his jeans, his fingers shaking as he fought the zipper. His erection sprung free between them, long and hard, thick, eager. He grabbed Emily's hand and guided it to his cock.
Her fingers closed around him, strong and cool. His breath caught on a hiss as she stroked him, slow, steady. JP's head fell back, his jaw clenched as each hard stroke unleashed a little more of his control.
He wanted. Needed. Now.
No. Not yet. This was Emily. Not some nameless pick-up, not some sure-thing puck bunny. He couldn't use her like that. He wouldn't.
He gritted his teeth and tried to ease away but she kept stroking him, harder, faster. Her touch was heaven, pulling him closer to the edge until he thought he'd explode right there in her hand.
No. He wouldn't give in. This was Emily.
He finally pulled away enough, nearly crying out in pain when her hand released him. A groan tore out of him and his hands fumbled with the snap and zipper of Emily's jeans. Each touch was frantic, desperate, his hands shaking with the strength of hi
s need as he pulled her jeans and underwear down her legs.
JP kneeled in front of her, his hands on her thighs, spreading her to his gaze. He heard her whimper, looked up as her head fell against the back of the sofa, her breasts thrust forward with the motion.
Then he lowered his mouth to her, his tongue darting out for one long lick against her clit. She was wet and warm against his tongue and he was suddenly starving. He fell on her, licking, stroking, teasing the tight nub of her clit with his teeth. Her hips bucked under his touch and he grabbed her hips with both hands, holding her still.
It wasn't enough.
He dragged his right hand along her hip and down the outside of her thigh, then ran the tips of his fingers along the sensitive flesh on the inside of her leg. Up, up further, until he spread her moist folds with his fingers, opening her even more. He ran his tongue along her, dipping inside as she thrust her hips toward him. His tongue swirled around her flesh as he slid a finger inside her. Muscles clenched around him, pulling him deeper, holding him even as he slid his finger out. In, out. He added a second finger, heard her gasp as his rhythm quickened. Harder, faster. Her body tensed, her muscles clenching for a second that felt like a lifetime. Then her climax exploded, her inner muscles squeezing around his fingers as her soft cries fell around him.
He refused to stop, holding her over the edge with his fingers and mouth and tongue until her hands fisted in his hair. She called his name, her voice hoarse and desperate as she tried to move away.
He shifted, reached up, leaning forward until his mouth closed over hers, hard and demanding. Not claiming—possessing. He fumbled for the wallet in his back pocket, opening it one-handed and reaching for a condom by feel. Emily's arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close as he finally sheathed himself with the condom.
He pulled away and laid her back on the sofa, his eyes drinking in the sight of her flushed skin, her body spread out before him. Her thick hair, the golden waves spread around her like a shining halo. Her soft lips, red and swollen and moist from his kisses. Her eyes, the deep blue glazed with passion, partially hidden by her lowered lids.
JP groaned and kneeled between her legs, sliding his hands under her hips and pulling her closer. He wrapped one hand around his cock, sliding the head along the moist folds of her opening, spreading the wetness of her climax. He looked down, watching, not daring to breathe, as he slowly entered her, his cock disappearing inch by inch inside her. He held himself still, then slowly eased out. In, then out.
She was tight, so fucking tight. And hot. Wet. His control slipped and he plunged into her, over and over, his hands tight on her hips, holding her in place. Her head tossed from side to side, her hands reaching behind her and grabbing the arm of the sofa. Her back arched, her breasts thrust forward, the tight peaks a dusky rose in the dim light.
JP pounded into her, unable to slow, unable to stop. Harder. Faster. Her body bucked beneath his and her lips parted on a sharp cry. He held himself still, reveling in the feel of her muscles clenching around him as her climax swept over her again.
Over him.
Then his control snapped and he plunged into her again, over and over until his own climax exploded. He threw his head back and clenched his jaw against his own groan, a thousand shards of sensation shredding him. He fell forward, careful to brace his weight on his arms so he wouldn't crush Emily, and tried to catch his breath.
Fuck. How had he forgotten this? Forgotten how potent she was, forgotten how easily he lost control with her.
He didn't lose control. He couldn't afford to.
Except he had. With Emily.
Always with Emily.
JP took a deep breath and rested his forehead against her shoulder, her skin warm and flushed against his. He waited for her arms to come around him, to feel the reassuring comfort of her hold. But her arms remained stretched above her, her body still except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
"Bordel de merde." He whispered the soft curse then slowly eased himself from Emily's warmth. He rolled off her and stood up, making his way to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean up. He refused to look in the mirror, refused to meet his own accusing stare.
Emily was sitting on the edge of the sofa when he returned, as far to the side as she could get without sitting on the arm. She was completely dressed, her hair neatly brushed back and tucked behind her ears.
And she wouldn't look at him.
He ran a hand down his face, felt the scratch of whiskers against his palm. Without saying a word, he gathered his own clothes and pulled them on, his movements rushed and jerky.
What the fuck had he done? Why hadn't he stopped? He should have known what would happen, should have known how she'd react. He hadn't seen her in five years and the history between them was too painful.
But had that stopped him from tossing her to the sofa and fucking her? No. What kind of man was he?
He smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt then stood there, not knowing what to do, only knowing he had to do something. He stepped closer to Emily, then dropped to his knees in front of her, reaching for her hands. He wasn't surprised when she tried to pull away so he tightened his grip.
"Emily. Ma douce. Please. Look at me."
"JP, don't."
"Look at me." He placed two fingers under her chin and gently tilted her head up until she was looking at him. She blinked and lowered her gaze, but not before he saw the shadows darkening the blue of her eyes, turning the color to that of a stormy sea.
"I need to get home. Monica's probably worried by now."
JP sighed but didn't release his hold on her. Not yet. "Emily, I'm sorry."
Her gaze flew to his, a flash of fire there and gone. "Sorry? Why?"
He sat back on his heels, the question surprising him. "I...this...I shouldn't have—"
"I'm a big girl, JP. I didn't do anything I didn't want to." She watched him for a few seconds, her eyes softening as the stiffness left her. Then she closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. Opened them again then gently placed her palm against his cheek. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth then stood up, stepping around him.
He stood up and faced her, his confusion no doubt clear on his face. "I don't understand. Then why—"
"Because I didn't think I'd still want to. Not with you." She tried to smile, one corner of her mouth barely lifting, trying to take the sting out of her words. But he felt them cut, deep and sharp. If Emily noticed, she didn't say so. She stood there, sadness and something else in her eyes as she watched him.
"Will you take me home now?"
JP nodded, not knowing what to say, not knowing if he could find his voice even if words came to him. He finally turned away and grabbed his cell phone and keys from the coffee table, then led Emily outside without another word.
Chapter Twelve
The lines of the report blurred on the computer screen, the numbers running together into one long cell that doubled then tripled. Emily closed her eyes, squeezing them tight in an attempt to clear her vision.
It didn't work.
She clicked out of the program then rolled her neck from side to side, trying to work the tight kinks from her muscles. The dull throbbing at the base of her skull continued to grow, radiating up and around to her temples. The headache had been with her the last two days and she had used it as an excuse to work from home.
Which would be perfect if she was actually getting any work done. But she wasn't, not enough to make her happy. Yes, she was ahead of her workload—she always was. But not as far as she wanted to be, not with the long holiday weekend coming up.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind her, quick, steady. Emily blew out a deep breath then swung her office chair around as Monica came toward her, a frown on her face.
"I need to leave for work. Will you be able to get Taylor from the bus stop?"
Emily glanced at her watch, surprised to see how late it was. Late, yes. But sti
ll too early for Monica to be heading into work. "Yeah. But aren't you leaving a little early?"
Her sister shrugged, her gaze darting around the small office Emily used when she worked from home. Apprehension filled her when Monica refused to meet her gaze and she wondered what was going on.
Monica had been distracted the last few days, almost distant. Had her sister somehow figured out what happened the other day?
Had she figured out Emily had slept with JP?
No, it couldn't be that. Monica would have said something if that had been the case. Which was fine by her, because it wasn't something Emily wanted to remember.
Except she hadn't been able to think of anything else for the last two days.
Emily leaned back in the chair and fixed a steady look on her sister. "You okay?"
"Hm? Yeah." Monica ran a hand through her hair then finally met Emily's gaze with a sigh. "No. I just...Em, I want to kill him. How can he do this to her?"
She knew instantly who 'he' was: Monica's ex, Jon. She straightened in the chair, her attention focused on her sister's frown, on the paleness of her complexion and the slight trembling of her pale lips. Emily knew what was coming, wasn't even the least bit surprised. But she didn't say anything, just waited until Monica was ready to get it out of her system.
Monica took a deep breath and held it, then slowly released it. She stepped over to the small bench pushed against the wall and lowered herself onto it, her body sagging as if just that little bit of movement drained her. "He cancelled everything this weekend. All of it. His new 'girlfriend' decided they'd have more fun going to New York. Adults only."
Sadness filled Emily, but only briefly. And she knew she should be disappointed but she couldn't be, not when this is exactly what she expected to happen. And why wouldn't it be? Jon had been doing this for the last few years, ever since the divorce. Why was Monica even surprised?
"Monica, I..." Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the right words, tried not to make it even worse. "I know you're upset, but I honestly don't think Taylor expected to see Jon this weekend. And what she doesn't know can't hurt her, right?"
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