Yet he hadn’t given her too much space, thank God. He wouldn’t have wanted to miss her showdown with Jack. When he saw her in action, facing up to her family, owning up to her flaws, he’d been speechless. This amazing woman who had such a clear insight into herself just floored him and he could only be more glad he’d operated on impulse and instinct those months before. Who knew his gut could be so wise? And she’d shown him something
She hadn’t wanted to disappoint her family by upsetting their image of her as the perfect princess. His family had an image of him as well, and he was keeping his own silence because of it. Thank God for Roxanne. Without her he might have seen too late that the path he’d been feeling was so wrong wasn’t the one he wanted to travel with her, but -
“If you don’t want to get married anymore, that’s all right. I understand.”
He just stared at her. “What?”
“Because now you know all my secrets.” She sat down on the couch in the sitting area and folded her hands in her lap, her expression composed, her posture finishing-school perfect. “I completely understand -”
“I can’t let you go, Roxanne.” He strode over to take a place on the cushions beside her. “You need to understand that. I won’t let you go.”
“But -”
“I can be as ruthless as any royal princess,” he warned.
Her fingers, in their good-little-girl position, turned white-knuckled. “Emerson, I don’t know.”
“I know. And I know that I need you -”
“What?” She moved suddenly, one hand clutching his forearm. “Say that again.
“I need you?”
“Again,” she whispered.
He smiled, knowing that he’d finally found the right words, the right sentiment that would sway this sweet creature. “I need you in my life. I need you in my life so that I remember to appreciate that snap decisions can lead to spectacular things. To understand that my heart knows as much as my head. I need your example - as a person who is owning up to her mistakes and claiming what she wants for her own life.”
“Emerson.” There were tears in her eyes, but he didn’t mind them. “I didn’t want our marriage to be a one-way street. I couldn’t let you think you were the big strong guy that needed to stand between me and my weaknesses.”
Leaning over, he hauled her into his lap so he could hold her closer to his heart, which was beating sure and strong. “Hell, Rox, I’ve been standing here admiring your strength. I’m going to be thinking of you every time I tell the world who I am and what I want. To do that, I need you, sweetheart. I need you to be my wife.”
Her weight was light and warm in his lap and her cheeks damp as he met her mouth with his. The kiss was tender, then not so tender, and next thing he knew his palm was caressing her breast and she was unbuttoning his shirt. Lifting his head, he groaned. “Roxanne…”
“Make love to me, Emerson.”
“We’re waiting until -” But he couldn’t think when her small thumb slid across the point of his nipple. Good God, his pants were tight. He took two deep breaths, trying to find that center line again, swerving back from the sweet, dark side of the road. His hand captured hers to flatten it against his thudding heart. “We’re waiting until we’re married.”
“Then let’s get married right now.” Roxanne had that light in her eyes he was starting to recognize. Militant princess, on the path for a cup of coffee and a man. Him.
Funny how that gleam made him feel a hundred feet tall and strong enough to confront giants - and maybe even a political committee or two. Grinning, he brushed his knuckles down the side of her face. “You want to take a quick trip to Nevada? Is that what you’re saying?”
She was already shaking her head and popped off his lap to grab a notebook from the desk. “Let’s say our vows to each other, right now. And then we’ll make love, Emerson, because in our hearts, we’ll be married.”
“I haven’t written any vows yet.” He remembered that day when the idea of doing so had made a cold chill run down his spine. Now he just knew he needed time to find the exact right thing to promise her.
“You said the perfect words to me just the other day.”
And she didn’t have to remind him more, because he knew the words she meant. He agreed, they were the perfect ones to say. But somehow, they didn’t get to their exchange immediately. He stood up to take her in his arms again, and from there it was just a few kisses before half their clothes were gone.
It was a dozen steps to the bedroom and the soft mattress and the cool sheets. She was sleek and so beautiful naked. He left his pants on, knowing it would help him hold back so he could touch every millimeter of her exposed skin.
And he did touch her everywhere, running the edge of his jaw over her pink nipples. Tasting the tender skin between her breasts with his lips. Palming the inner surface of her thighs to open them for his gaze.
“Emerson.” Her face was bright with a mix of desire and embarrassment. She tried to close her legs, but he cupped her sex to establish his place there. She was hot and soft against his hand.
God. “No man has ever touched you like this,” he murmured.
Her flush deepened and her hips lifted, just the slightest, toward his possession, as if she couldn’t help herself. “You know I never dated.”
“Until me.” Going slow, he caressed with his fingers, opening her folds and finding that she was warmer, wetter, than he thought a virgin could be so quickly. He sought the moisture with his long middle finger, going deep.
Her hips lifted again, her gaze riveted to his face. “Good?” he asked, using his thumb to find the throbbing button at the top of her sex.
She swallowed a little noise.
He smiled. “Good.”
Her hand reached up to clutch his shoulder as he continued a gentle glide and press. Then he leaned down to take a tender nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it, his eyes closing at the rightness: it hardening against his tongue, her nails digging into his skin, the flow of heated wetness around his finger.
Her thighs were relaxed now, and he luxuriated in the textures of her body. He bounced kisses off the drum of her belly and ran his teeth over the sharp thrust of her hip bones. His tongue tickled the tiny whorl of her navel. He pillowed his cheek on her thigh and watched his hand dabble in the playground he’d been dreaming of, smiling at how she was moving in counterpoint against his touch.
“Emerson.” Roxanne sounded breathless. “Please.”
“Baby.” He slid up her body so he could sample her mouth again, but she wasn’t willing to be so patient now. She plucked at the waistband of his pants, making him suck in air as her fingers brushed against his erection.
“Take these off,” the princess commanded.
“Okay, okay.” He was feeling a little breathless himself. And it only got worse when his bare legs tangled with hers and his shaft met the silky skin of her thigh.
He groaned, leaning his forehead against her delicate shoulder. “Roxanne…”
“Now, Emerson.”
Now, Emerson, his libido echoed.
Oh, God, oh, God. His nerves started chattering at him again - she’s a virgin! - but his body knew what it wanted. He rolled between her thighs and used his hands to draw up her knees against his flanks. The head of his shaft kissed the sweet wet heat at the center of her body.
Her hips tilted. He lowered, beginning to enter the tight clasp of her. Framing her face with his hands, he smiled down at her. “I love you.”
“I love you.” Her mouth was red and swollen from his kisses. “I want you.”
Emerson pushed inside her. She twitched at the intrusion. “Hurt?”
“Not really. It’s just … new.” Her knees tightened on his hips. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.”
He slid deeper. “We fit together.” That was so clear to him now - and something to celebrate.
“You’re inside me.”
His heart was slamming against his chest. �
�All the way, baby.”
Her voice went husky. “You walked into my life as if I’d wished you there. You made me feel safe and at risk - both at once. I want to take chances with you. I want to stay safe with you by the fireside. I want to keep you close as my own and also share our love with the whole world.”
He smiled. “You do?”
A tear slid from the edge of her lashes to her temple, but Roxanne was smiling, too. “I do.”
And that was his cue, he knew. He slid out to the tip, then slid back in, connecting them once again. He was besotted, and it was the best damn feeling he’d ever had in his entire life.
“My favorite color?” he said. “You. My favorite flavor? You. My favorite woman?”
He watched another happy tear join the first. “Always you, Roxanne. Always and forever you.”
Later, while she slept in his arms, Emerson remembered his father talking during the wine walk. It seemed to fit Roxanne, himself, their relationship, and the bumps and obstacles it had survived these last weeks. The struggle to grow makes the vine work harder, extending its roots and absorbing elements that make it produce a more interesting fruit.
Yeah. That.
*****
Jack pounded on the back door of the Baci farmhouse. Frustrated when he perceived no response from the other side, he pounded again. Finally, footsteps could be heard crossing the old linoleum. Stevie swung open the door.
He was breathing too fast. It didn’t help that she wore a rib-hugging T-shirt and another pair of those thin, low-riding jeans. His fingers were longer than their zipper, which meant he could slide under the waistband and be only a hand span from heaven.
Except she was eyeing him with alarm instead of lust. “What are you doing here?”
His mouth opened even as his fingers closed over the bride and groom in his jacket pocket. You’ve found everything, Roxanne had told him yesterday, and he’d spent hours trying to get the words out of his head. Still, he’d caught himself turning his scratch pad, adding lines, erasing lines, modifying spaces within the castle winery at My Aching Back.
Drawing walls designed to keep him in Edenville.
“I’ve not been sleeping,” he said, his voice guttural. There was that, too. Not that he’d had a decent eight hours in a decade, but he’d kept coming awake the night before, remembering that moment when Roxy walked into that lake house in Ardenia. In his dreams, it would morph into the moment that he’d walked toward Stevie standing by her limousine on New Year’s Eve.
In both cases, his mind would be screaming, Go back! Go back! In both cases his nightmare self continued onward, unaware of the consequences ahead. Those damn consequences, the worst of which was a profound sense of powerlessness.
When you cared about someone else, you surrendered control. He couldn’t let that happen again.
Stevie was still staring at him. “Did you want to come in?”
No. Yes. No.
“Yes.” Still, he hesitated as he crossed the threshold. “Were you searching the attic again tonight?”
She yanked on his arm to draw him into the kitchen. “It’s cold out there,” she said, shutting the door behind him. “And, yes, I was looking again, but I admit defeat. I don’t see any sign of the treasure or anything that looks like it could be opened with the key. I’m about to give up altogether.”
He shrugged. “Stevie -”
“I think I’ve been wasting time in the house. Anne and Alonzo never lived here. But the cottage was thoroughly gutted for the rehab, so it can’t be there, either.” She sighed, then slid him an assessing look. “How interested are you in wandering the vineyard with a metal detector and a shovel?”
“Tonight?” He stepped toward her and was unsurprised when she stepped back. Her instincts were good and he was feeling particularly on edge. “Not interested at all.”
“Okay. So what did you want?” She took another step back.
He reached out to halt her movement, realizing too late he’d reached with the hand still grasping the wedding cake topper. They both stared at it.
“I came to return this,” he said quickly.
“Ah.” She took it from him, set it aside. “I noticed it was missing from the office.”
“Yes. Well.” He forked a hand through his hair, agitated. His intention had been to leave it somewhere when she wasn’t looking. And then get away … from here, from her.
“Roxy took it, didn’t she?”
Shit. “I - uh…”
“I know she has a problem, Jack. Emerson made a comment and then I put two-and-two together.”
His empty hand curled into a fist. Ten years had passed and it still cut deep that he hadn’t protected his sister in every way. It’s why relationships weren’t his thing. It’s why he couldn’t start caring for Stevie. “Don’t say anything to anyone. She’s getting help.”
Stevie half turned from him. “You still think I’d sabotage her, Jack? Great.”
“I don’t … I didn’t mean to insult you, but -” Damn. His mood erupted. He grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her around to face him. “You’ve got to stop doing this.”
Color flagged her cheekbones. “Doing what?”
“Digging under my skin. Always buzzing around in my head.”
She was breathing through her nose like her temper was suddenly running as hot as his. “You asked for it, Jack. ‘Fly in your champagne,’ you said. ‘Thorn on your rose.’”
“All right, then. All right.” Muttering, he hauled her closer. “Maybe your way is right. Something’s got to get you out of my system.”
He slammed his mouth against hers. She bit his bottom lip. His hands raced to the curves of her ass to push her closer, though her mons was already pressed against his rigid cock. They both groaned as her hands dove beneath his shirt and her nails scored the skin at his shoulders.
The sting only further enflamed him. “You make me burn,” he said against her mouth. He ran his lips along her jaw so he could nip her earlobe. She shuddered in his arms and molded herself against his chest.
“Sex like a man, but a bed this time,” he said, and they careened like two drunks through the kitchen, off the walls, and into the guest bedroom, where he’d slept that other time. The bedside light glowed. Their frenzied dance took them to the edge of the bed, and without a qualm, he pushed her, tumbling her onto the mattress. At the last second, she grabbed the waistband of his jeans and he fell on top of her, his head between her breasts.
She moaned as he took advantage of the position, his mouth latching on to one of her nipples over her clothes. His tongue wet the thin fabric so he could feel the berried crest against his tongue and then take it between his teeth. He bit her there, too, with less care than he might have some other time, but it didn’t matter, because she shuddered in his hold and fought him to throw off her T-shirt. He yanked at her bra, its bindings beyond him when he felt this greedy, and finally there was a ripping sound and the sleek bounty of her breasts spilled into his hands.
He held them against his stubbled cheeks, kissing that soft valley until he had to suck again. He ringed her areolas with stinging kisses, then scraped his teeth over her erect nipples.
Stevie had his pants unfastened. She shoved at them, while he kicked off his shoes. Then she rolled on top, and his shirt was gone, he was naked, and she was using that hot mouth of hers to set fires at his throat, along his collarbone, down the center of his torso. She found his cock - oh, God, she took him deep in her mouth in one long slide of molten heat. His heart jolted, his hips rose, even as his hand cupped the back of her head in desperation.
That’s what he was - desperate. He had to get her out of his system, pull her loose from him in a quick tear of sinew and bone, whatever it took to be free. Except, of course, this act was just the opposite of that. Instead of out it was in, instead of freedom it was constraints. He had her naked, too, now, and she was so damn tight inside as he slid a finger, two, inside her.
She was on he
r knees, her magnificent ass in the air as she continued to take him into her mouth, but he tortured her with that same rhythm as he worked his digits inside her clasping, confining, sweet little tunnel.
The orgasm was building in his balls. They were pulling tight, as if seeking to meet that quadruple-score-for-appearance blow-job mouth. He squeezed yet another finger into her slippery warmth and she hummed against his cock.
Gasping, Jack jerked away from her, wanting more before it was over. He shoved her onto her back, and slid down her body, spreading her legs with implacable hands.
She was wide open to him, splayed for his feast, and he slid his tongue hungrily over all the wet and pink flesh, tasting, taking, hoping to drive her into that same crazed state that had his head buzzing and his blood pumping.
His fingers slid inside her again, and he groaned at how the wet walls squeezed him. He lashed at her with his tongue and slid his hand up her belly to palm a breast. Then he found her nipple and pinched it, just as his teeth scraped over the hard jut of her clitoris.
Stevie’s body froze. He heard her suck in a gasping breath, but he didn’t give her mercy - she’d never shown a crumb of it for him. He pinched tighter, delved deeper, scraped again.
Her body quaked. She cried out. He rode the waves with her, not letting up until the quivers turned to trembles, turned to a tiny whimper. “Jack,” she said, her voice sounding drugged. “Oh, God, I need you.”
No. No, she didn’t need him, any more than he did her. That’s what he was here to prove, right? But his body needed release and so he crawled up her damp and heated skin. He’d left condoms in the bedside table before and they were still there. His hands shaking, he rolled one on, then rolled into the cradle of her body.
Lust shot up his spine like a flame up a fuse as she lifted her knees. He took them in the palms of his hands and pushed them toward her chest, keeping her open to him while he thrust against her soft, wet tissue.
His heart slammed in his chest as he pistoned into her body, driving again and again and again, as if each move was a mile taking him farther from her and this indecent desperation.
Then He Kissed Me Page 23