Sophie Ryder. Journalist and sweet seductress.
She’d crept into his heart and carved her name there.
His lover stirred, nuzzling into his neck, her breath fanning his skin as she sighed and drifted back to sleep.
If only they never had to leave his bed again. He shifted his body so that he faced her. Her beauty was intoxicating. She had creamy skin, pale rather than tan, and her long lashes looked as if they were tipped with dark gold. Her light, wheat-colored hair tumbled in a gleaming mass around her face. Her slightly upturned nose animated her face when she wrinkled it in displeasure. Her lips were a light pink shade with a hint of dusk that matched the tips of her breasts. He could spend years stroking her mouth with his fingertips, just to feel their silky texture.
Sophie licked her lips, her pink tongue swiping delicately over his finger. He swallowed a laugh at the puzzled look she gave him when her lashes drifted up.
Last night could have gone so differently. He could have died. Funny; it was his second brush with death and he hadn’t realized how long he’d been expecting it to happen again. As though he’d lived years in an awful stasis, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even though they’d all survived last night, it wasn’t over. The man who’d taken Cody was on the loose. Sophie had come to him at the Gilded Cuff, warning him he might be in danger and he hadn’t taken her seriously. She’d been right. Antonio was back and wanted to finish the job. Everyone he loved, especially Sophie, was now in danger because of him.
Panic hit him like a punch to the gut. They were all still exposed, too vulnerable. He had to get Sophie out of here. She’d never leave willingly. She was too stubborn. If he told her to go, she wouldn’t leave unless it was for a good reason. The woman thought she could protect him. Maybe she’d stood up to those other criminals she’d battled, but he wouldn’t let her stick around and die for him.
Emery kissed her temple and she cuddled deeper into the curve of his body. He liked her tucked into his side, the way they molded together.
How was he going to protect her?
She shifted restlessly against him, her eyes closing again, and she gave a little sigh. Her arms tightened about his chest, causing his body to stir. Never before had a woman tempted him to the point of mindless madness. She’d reduced his world to one tiny yet infinite universe. Half of him wanted to send her away, remove the source of confusion which had upset his carefully controlled environment. The other half of him refused to let her leave his sight for even a moment. She belonged to him, and he never relinquished what was his.
As much as he craved staying in bed with her forever, he needed to get back to the hospital and check on Cody. Hans, fortunately, had only suffered a concussion from the blast and they’d kept him overnight for observation. Even though the police had posted a guard, Wes and Royce had volunteered to take turns watching over the rooms until Emery could get Cody and Hans home. If there was one thing Emery had learned from his bodyguard, you never left yourself exposed. Policemen could be bought off; so could nurses and doctors. Only Royce and Wes could be trusted to keep watch over his other friends.
Emery carefully disentangled himself from Sophie and headed to the bathroom to shower. Already naked, he stepped into the stall and turned the hot water on.
His hands shook slightly as he rubbed his sore muscles and let the water work its magic. Shutting his eyes, he struggled against the memories of the moment before the explosion, which ran rampant behind his eyelids. The blaring red digital numbers counting down. The rush of heat and pain as the explosion chased him into the dark water. He sucked in a breath and forced himself to focus. The police had questions and had agreed to meet him at the hospital at four p.m. That gave him two hours.
Dizziness swamped him and his entire body went rigid in an attempt to quell the spinning sensation. It was as though something was stabbing at the base of his spine, sending violent shivers up the length of his back. That sense of a self outside him took hold.
His face, in the mirror, days old stubble. Flickering fluorescent lights painted thick shadows around his eyes. Pain radiated out from his shoulder, an old injury from a bull kicking him. Another day, another day to work until his palms cracked and bled, another day to pray the bank wouldn’t foreclose on his dream…
Emery surged back into himself with a sharp gasp, his chest burned with the lack of oxygen until several deep breaths later. He had to stay in control. These dreams, these…visions, his descent into madness, it had to stop. Everyone he loved was still in danger. The question was, what was he going to do about it?
* * *
Sophie woke to an empty bed, reaching across the vast expanse of the sheets for Emery. A hint of warmth lingered beneath her palm. Emery’s dented pillow looked lonely. It was the man that should have been next to her that she missed. She sat up and searched the room, hungry for a glimpse of him.
Even though he’d flinched with pain and shouldn’t have exerted himself, he’d made love to her—slowly, sweetly. When she’d protested, telling him to wait until he was better, he’d murmured that he had to touch her, kiss her, be inside her, with such desperation she couldn’t deny him. It was in that moment when he’d slid home inside her, and she’d cushioned him with her body, that she’d come undone. He hadn’t moved at first, only gazed down at her, the entire world shining from his eyes. Her breath had caught in her throat, and she’d ceased to exist outside that embrace, outside him.
All of it was terrifying but enthralling at the same time. Like Alice before the looking glass, she’d marveled at the change in the way she saw the world. She’d chased a white rabbit down an unexpected trail and met the King of Hearts. She was still Sophie, still the same woman, but something inside her had been set free, unleashed from a cold, dark prison. The fire of her passion and the need to love and be loved burst from her without the strict restraint she’d once had.
The sex that had followed Emery’s brush with death had been nothing short of mind-blowing. They’d both collapsed in a tangle of limbs, gleaming with sweat. He’d taken her into his arms, and covered her face and neck with soft, teasing kisses that held so much raw emotion she’d had to rub tears from her cheeks.
Yet neither of them had been brave enough to speak.
I love you.
Three words heavy with consequences. Until she was brave enough to say them, she’d breathe life into them with her kisses, her caresses, and hopefully he’d feel what her heart wanted so desperately to tell him.
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. The faint whisper of water on tile drifted to her ears. Curious and also shy, she slipped out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her body. Holding it tight with one fist above her breasts, she walked toward the bathroom. She eased the door open and padded inside on bare feet. Inside the glass shower stall, Emery had his back to her. His tanned skin was riddled with hundreds of tiny cuts and bruises. He pressed one forearm on the wall, his head resting on his arm as he drew in slow breaths. He looked so broken, so wounded. An invisible fist clenched her heart and squeezed.
She dropped the sheet and reached for the door. She needed to touch him, hold him in her arms. Never in her life had she had someone who belonged to her, someone she could reach out and touch whenever she wished. She’d envied lovers who had such freedoms. To be so open with another person that you could hug them, brush your lips over theirs and link hands. It was a gift often taken for granted. For the first time, she felt brave enough with Emery to be open.
When she laid a hand on his left shoulder, his tension eased and he turned around to face her. Hot water ran in tantalizing rivulets down his well-toned chest and the rippling cords of muscle that formed his abs. Unable to resist, she smoothed her palms over his pectorals. His muscles leapt beneath her touch and his gaze zeroed in on her mouth.
“May I touch you like this, Master Emery?” she asked, almost teasing him, as she continued to stroke him. He curled his hands around the flare of her hips and pulled her deeper in
to the shower, closer to him.
“You may always touch me, unless I order you not to.” His gruff response and the heavy-lidded gaze he gave her shot her full of desire and fresh hunger.
His words lit a fire in her. She unleashed every decadent thought and fantasy she’d ever had. A man to touch, to kiss, a beautiful body to lay her hands upon, to explore in delight and satisfaction. Not that she would ever be satisfied. Being with Emery was as addictive as any drug. She’d never get enough of him.
He remained still, his hands resting on her hips as she explored him. When she took his length in her hand, stroking and squeezing the impressive erection, he sighed. His head fell back against the shower wall. He was hard as marble yet the skin was silky, and she marveled at the way he felt in her hand. He was nothing like her other lovers. Those had been hasty fumblings in the dark—quick, momentarily satisfying. None of those nights compared to even one minute with Emery, amorous or not.
“Harder, grip me harder!” His voice was a low growl that gave her body goose bumps.
She forced her gaze up to his face, startled by his pained expression. He met her stare and nodded in silent encouragement. Sophie tightened her hand around him and continued to stroke. His fingers dug into her skin. She rocked forward, teased by the water droplets trickling down his neck. She licked the water away to kiss her way up to his mouth. He dropped his head to hers, to give her easier access to his mouth. The kiss was slow, deep, full of heat and tenderness and something she was too afraid to examine closely.
Emery tensed in her palm and jerked away. A wave of embarrassment and disappointment tore through her with devastation. Had she done it wrong? Then she glimpsed the passion in his face as his jaw clenched and he tossed his head back, inhaling a ragged breath. He rotated their bodies, putting her against the tile, and then he turned her to face the shower wall.
“Put your hands on the wall and bend forward,” he instructed in a guttural whisper.
Sophie did as he commanded. The water from the showerhead struck her back, making a waterfall of blissful heat down her ribs and backside. He was behind her, shoving a strong thigh between her knees, kicking her feet apart. He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance and thrust home. She rocked up on her toes at the power of their union and the delicious vulnerability. A moan of need escaped her lips as he withdrew. His hard length dragged against newly awakened nerve endings inside her and she tried to push back against him. He curled the fingers of his right hand around the nape of her neck, holding her in place while his left hand roamed from her breasts to her mound to her thighs where her hips met her legs. The way he held her made her helpless, but she trusted him. When he slammed into her with such force that stars burst behind her closed eyes, she cried out at the sudden unexpected pleasure of the hard penetration.
Emery made a rumbling, purring noise of pleasure as he rode her hard. The intense pleasure between them built into an almost tangible force. Then he slid in a sharp, slow rhythm as though he had all the time in the world to possess her. The feel of their slick bodies meeting, the soft sounds of flesh upon flesh and the heat of the water and the silken hardness of him inside her made her lightheaded. The climax she so desperately needed hovered at the edge of her awareness. His hard thrusts, digging fingers and their shared moans surrounded her, filled her.
“Who do you belong to?” Emery demanded in a husky whisper that bounced off the tile and wove through the spray of water to caress her ears. Sophie’s arousal spiked and her body clenched around him.
“Who?” he rasped again, his own control seeming to shred. He punished her with a deep pumping movement and smacked her bottom. The combination of pleasure with the zing of pain set her spiraling toward the rush of ecstasy that awaited her.
“I belong to you, only you,” she gasped and he sank deep, hard into her hot willing flesh. Her knees buckled under the weight of her climax. She collapsed against the shower wall. Dimly, she was aware of him as he cursed, thrusting once more into her spasming sheath before he joined her in the rush of bliss. His arms locked about her waist, and he held her up, even as he shook around her. He pressed his lips into her neck, nibbling and nuzzling while he held her in the gentle prison of his embrace.
“God, Sophie…God.” He groaned and finally withdrew, turning from her body, and turned her to face him.
Sophie covered his mouth with hers, preventing him from saying anything else. He met her kiss with raw hunger which soon softened. The electric tingles that sparked to life between their every touch seemed to intensify with the simple kiss.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she breathed between kisses. “I couldn’t bear to lose you too.” Could he hear what was hidden in her gasping breaths? She loved him. “You’re not allowed to do something like that ever again.”
His rough laugh teased her ears, sending a flurry of shivers dancing down her spine.
“So you’re giving me orders now?” He spanked her hard, and she jumped against his body.
He was not going to distract her. “You’re damn right I am.”
She dug her nails into his shoulders in retaliation for her stinging bottom.
Leaning into her, crowding her against the tile, his lips curved in a smile against her mouth as he stole a kiss. When she tried to deepen it, he pulled back.
“Not that I don’t want to continue this discussion, but we’ve got to get to the hospital. I need you to watch over Cody while I talk to the police.”
Finally, Emery would allow her to carry part of his burden. Her love for him only strengthened, like an ever growing oak tree, the roots sinking deeper, lodging in the rich soil.
“Okay.” She smoothed her hands up his arms, over his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him back down for one more kiss.
Chapter 17
THERE WAS A TEARFUL REUNION OF THE LOCKWOOD FAMILY WITH THEIR MISSING CHILD AT ST. AUGUSTUS HOSPITAL, WHERE THE BOY WAS TAKEN FOR EXAMINATION AND POLICE PHOTOGRAPHS. EMERY’S SUFFERED FROM SEVERE DEHYDRATION, BRUISED RIBS, STARVATION AND BITE WOUNDS FROM VERMIN.
—New York Times, September 30, 1990
Sophie had never been a fan of hospitals. The pungent aroma of death and the scent of sterile disinfectants made her stomach churn. Emery walked with long purposeful strides beside her. His face was a mask of stone, betraying no emotion, but his jaw popped once or twice as they headed down the hall to Cody’s room. The last time Emery had been here must have been when they’d brought him in after he’d escaped Antonio. Sophie’s throat burned as she imagined the little boy, scared and hurt, with his brother dead. Her hand sought his as she laced her fingers through his, tightening her hold. He didn’t react except to shut his eyes for a second before opening them again.
At the end of the hall, Royce sat in a stiff-looking metal chair with a stack of papers in his lap. A red pen cap jutted out from between his lips as his pen skated across the top of the page. He glanced up through weary eyes. Relief softened the stress that tightened his features as he watched them approach. He blinked, scrubbed his face with his hands, capped his pen and dropped the papers on top of a worn leather briefcase next to his chair. He stood as they reached him.
“How is he?” Emery asked in a hushed tone.
Royce grimaced. “Not good. He’s quiet, which isn’t like him. The doctor said he’s out of the woods, but the healing will take time…” He rubbed his neck, glanced away before his eyes returned to Emery. “The man who took Cody…he shattered his hand with a metal mallet. Most of the bones were broken, even the small ones. It may be years before he gets control back over his hand, if ever. The doctor is worried about nerve damage, too.”
“Christ.” Emery hissed under his breath.
“Yeah. That’s not all. He’s got broken ribs, a broken leg, bruising all over his body. The kid took one hell of a beating. If I ever get my hands on the bastard who—”
“He’s mine. You can finish off whatever pieces I leave behind.” Emery growled low, like an alpha wol
f issuing a challenge. A storm brewed behind his eyes. Tension emanated from him like static sparks.
Desperate to distract him, Sophie spoke. “Is Cody allowed to have visitors?”
Both men focused on her. After a moment Royce nodded. “Yes. Go on in.”
Emery pushed the door open, then put a gentle hand on Sophie’s back as he ushered her into the room first.
Cody was in a bed, blankets tucked around him, except for one of his legs, which was in traction. White wires and clear tubes were everywhere, connecting to bags and IVs in Cody’s arms. A saline bag hung from a metal rod by the bed and several machines beeped, sending numbers skipping across their black screens. Cody’s head was angled toward the window, but he turned to face them as they approached.
It took everything in Sophie not to cry out, not to run over and hug him. Black and purple bruises covered his face, and one eye was swollen shut. She could barely recognize the handsome carefree man she’d come to care so much about.
“You start to cry, babe, and we’ll have a problem.” Cody’s raspy voice ended on a rough chuckle.
She answered him with a watery laugh and went to him, pulling up a chair by his bedside. She blinked away the stinging tears, refusing to let them fall, and smiled.
“Well, I’m sorry, but you look like crap,” she teased, knowing humor would make him feel better.
Cody cracked a grin, even if it was one obviously faded with pain. He switched his attention to Emery. “Hey, bossman.”
Emery reached out as though to touch Cody, but froze inches from his shoulder and pulled his hand back. His hazel eyes swirled with a torrent of greens and browns, matching the array of emotions that warred on his face.
The Gilded Cuff Page 24