by Tamara Lush
“Tell me what you need, Emma,” he purred. “Tell me.”
“You. You, Caleb. I need you.”
“And I need you. Only you.”
He cupped my jaw in his big hand and pressed his open mouth to my cheek when he came, gasping my name again and again. I’d never heard a sweeter sound.
* * *
We sprawled in his big bed, sated.
“I’m sorry, Emma. I would have stepped in on the condo deal and made things right had I known. I was so caught up in Brazil, and…and in you. For the first time in years, I delegated some of my work so I could have some free time. To be with you. I don’t think you understand how you’ve opened up my life.”
I shuddered in a breath, on the verge of tears, and he kept talking.
“Emma, sweetheart, I hope you believe me. And I think the project’s better this way, if that’s any consolation. I think you’re right to want to preserve the history.” His voice had a pleading tone, and when I scrutinized his face, I saw the dark circles under his eyes.
“I do believe you. But I didn’t want to rely on you solve my problems for me. I started my business myself, and I wanted to fix things myself. It’s how I operate. I’ve had to do so much for myself, and I don’t like to rely on anyone else.”
He nodded slowly. “I get that. Really. I do.”
“So I should apologize. I shouldn’t have been so nasty to you. I’m sorry. Truly. And I wanted to say thank you for the offer, for letting all of us stay in the building. For saving the building. It’s a generous thing to do.” I buried my face in his side.
Caleb kissed my forehead. “I hope you know I’d do anything to help you. And you don’t owe me anything, okay?”
I bobbed my head up and down, shame churning in my gut.
“But if we’re going to continue this, Emma, if you want to be with me, all I ask is for honesty. Like that story you told at the meeting. Why didn’t you tell me about that during our conversations? Why won’t you let me into your life?”
I looked at him, wincing. “I grew up poor, in a trailer park next to an orange grove. Why would I ever, in a million years, tell someone like you about my childhood? You’d only look at me with pity.”
“Oh, Emma. No. No.” He wrapped his arms around me, and I repeated an old mantra to myself, one I used to say to myself all the time when I was in college and the rich sorority girls looked sideways at my Goodwill outfits.
Don’t cry. Have some pride. Don’t cry.
I started to sniffle and then maneuvered on top of him. His arms circled me and I sighed.
“Don’t you get it, Emma? I don’t care where you grew up or how you grew up. I want to know about your past because it’s shaped you. I care about here and now. I want you to share these details with me because I care. We’re equals—that’s how I see us. This isn’t just sex. Not for me. This is real. You make me think about something other than work. You make me want to experience life outside of my office. You make me think and laugh. You make me happy again. It’s been so long. So damned long.”
I folded onto him, my body boneless, and nodded into the hollow of his neck. His skin became wet from my tears, and I used my hand to wipe the moisture away.
“Remember how you said that you could fall for me?”
I leaned back so I could look in his eyes. “Yeah. I do. How could I forget?”
“If you’re falling, I’m falling faster. Which means I’ll be there to catch you at the bottom. Is that okay?”
I nodded, unable to speak because I was afraid I’d start sobbing after holding everything in for so long.
“What are you listening to?” I murmured, suddenly aware of the music that wafted from the other room. I’d been so focused on consuming him physically that I’d ignored everything else.
“Ella Fitzgerald.”
“I love it.”
How could I have been so angry with him?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Don’t be. If this is the worst we face together, we’ll be the luckiest couple in the world.”
As my lips found his neck, he whisper-sung a few song lyrics into my ear.
I cupped his face in my hands and then kissed him until I couldn’t breathe.
* * *
After we made love again, snacked on frozen cheese pizza, and kissed some more, we lazed on the sofa, naked.
“You don’t seem like the frozen pizza type,” I said.
“I’m not. I’ve been eating like crap because I was upset about you.”
I sighed. “I’ve been trying to distract myself by working on a new story these past couple of weeks.”
“Oh, yeah? Did it work? Did you distract yourself?”
How I loved his smile…
I shook my head. “Nope. I realized after typing ten pages that I was really writing about you. About us.”
He planted a kiss on my temple and tickled my side. “Oh, yeah? Now I want to hear this. Will you read for me?”
I yelped and reached for my purse to get my tablet, then snuggled back into his body. I threw my legs over his, wanting as much flesh-to-flesh contact as possible. He smoothed back my hair, which was everywhere because he’d been playing with it all night.
“Okay, here goes.”
I began reading and grinned as I spoke. My heart beat fast, because Caleb and I were lying on his sofa, my soft, smaller body curled next to his warm muscular frame. Because I’d chosen to let him into my life and vowed to not build walls between us. Because we were giving each other a chance.
Because we had the very real possibility of creating something pure and permanent.
“Emma, slow down. Don’t speak so fast,” he whispered. “I want to savor your words. We’ve got all the time in the world for this story.”
Taking a deep breath, I started from the top.
I wanted him the second I looked into his steel-blue eyes.
THE END
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my critique partner, Kat Faitour. Your wisdom and wit sustain me. Also to Tiffany Razzano, the creator of Story Brothel in St. Petersburg, Florida. I also owe a huge thank you to G.G. Andrew and Tina Ellery for the early read.
And to my husband, Marco: I’m eternally grateful for all you do. I love you.
Also by Tamara Lush
Hot Shade
Into the Heat
About the Author
During the day, Tamara Lush is a journalist. At night, she writes fictional romance tales about complicated, sexy men and the women who love them.
When Tamara isn’t reporting, writing or reading, she’s doing yoga, cooking for her Italian husband or chasing her dogs on a beach on Florida's Gulf Coast.
She loves connecting with people on social media. Go to her website and sign up for her newsletter if you’d like details on new releases, exclusive content and adorable photos of her dogs.
@tamaralush
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www.tamaralush.com