by Lori Ryan
Emmett listened to the words of the song, the lyrics speaking about simple days and old friends. Elle raised on her toes, twirling around him, a slow smile spreading across her face, but not at him, at memories he had a feeling she was reliving in her mind. He could see she’d lost herself in the feel of dancing. She was home.
Elle backed away, falling to her knees as she slunk down to the floor, her arms cast out in front. As if pulled by an invisible string, her back arched up and she lifted her body in a backbend, then coming to stand on her toes, twirling as the skirt of her dress fanned out.
She slowed, reaching out her arms to him as if he were her saving grace but slowly turned before he could grasp her. The song sang of leaving, of disappointing, asking for forgiveness, and promising to return one day. Emmett wondered if she’d chosen this song for him. Or maybe it was an anthem, for herself.
Emmett watched, mesmerized as Elle twirled and jumped and danced in perfect rhythm to the music, the lyrics both haunting and hopeful. He felt something in his chest break. It was forgiveness, surrender, hope. He couldn’t resist her any longer.
The music came to a crescendo and Elle jumped high in the air, neck arched back, legs split so wide her toe nearly touched her head. She was breathtaking. Every move she made was filled with angst and emotion, choreographed with precision to match the drama of the song. He had the sense this was her song, her apology, her plea. To him.
She didn’t need his forgiveness. He’d given her that. What he couldn’t do was give her his heart again. But maybe they could have something less than that. Maybe he could have her again the way he had in New York, but keep his heart protected. So long as he reminded himself he couldn’t fall into the trap of thinking this would be forever with her, then maybe…
The song came to a close and Elle danced in front of him, her hands gently touching his face as if she couldn’t believe he was real. Her expression was filled with regret and hope, her blue eyes shimmering with tears. Emmett wanted to kiss them away. He closed his eyes, leaning in until their foreheads touched.
“Elle,” he whispered.
She remained silent, and slowly he felt her hands slip away. He opened his eyes, and just as the lyrics predicted, he reached out for her, but she was gone. She’d already turned to face the mirror, glancing at him in the reflection.
His chest ached with the pain she’d obviously endured over the years, the agony evident in every hauntingly beautiful move she made. Their souls had been connected once and he felt her pain acutely. She’d been the center of his life. Never had he been so attuned to another human being as he was now, standing in an empty dance studio, watching his Elle dance only for him.
The song ended and she stood, her back still to Emmett, head hanging down as she gripped the bar.
Without thinking, he moved, his hands grasping the bar on either side of hers. He pressed his body into hers, wanting her more now than he ever had.
She raised her head, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, Emmett,” she whispered as she stared at his reflection.
“Don’t be sorry, Elle. You came back to me.” He smiled but she only stared, her expression so bleak it broke his heart.
“I don’t deserve you,” she said.
“I want you,” he said quietly against her ear. What he couldn’t tell her was that he could never fully come back to her. He needed to hold a small piece of himself back, to protect his heart from ever being hurt by her again. But that didn’t mean he had the power to resist her completely. He didn’t.
“I, I…” she stuttered.
Emmett wrapped one arm around her slender waist and stepped them both back so he could see her fully in the mirror. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed her neck. “And I want you so much it hurts.”
Her body trembled as he trailed his hand up the soft material of her dress. His gaze never left hers in the dim reflection of the mirror. His palm skimmed over her thigh and slipped around her waist, sliding toward the belt of her wraparound dress.
“Emmett,” Elle whispered.
He studied her intently. Her pulse beat fast against her neck and she blinked rapidly, her chin trembling as she fought for control. He almost stopped. She was scared, he knew that. Hell, so was he.
“I haven’t,” she whispered, but didn’t finish the thought.
“You haven’t been with anyone since the surgery, Els?” he whispered back.
She shook her head.
“Trust me. Can you do that?” He bent to meet her eyes. “Can you trust me, Els?”
“Yes. Always.” Her answer was so quiet he almost didn’t hear it. She raised her chin and looked him in the eye, giving a small nod.
Slowly, Emmett tugged on the bow of her dress. The material gave way like a curtain, revealing her smooth skin.
Underneath she wore a black lace bra and matching panties. He knew from her journal that the bra was padded with an insert on one side to match her other breast. That fact didn’t make him want her any less.
Emmett trailed his fingers across her collar bone, catching the material of the dress and dragging it down her shoulders.
“Emmett,” Elle pleaded, reaching up to stop him. Tears filled her red-rimmed eyes. Her pain ripped through him as if it were his own. “What if you don’t like me?”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Elle, I could never not like you. I want you.” He let the dress fall to the floor. “I will never not want you, not love everything I see about you. Never.”
She drew in a ragged breath.
He studied her in the mirror. “What’s this?” he asked, running his fingers of a tattoo across her ribs.
She shivered and glanced at her reflection where his finger danced on her skin. “It’s a tattoo.”
He laughed. “I know that. What does it say?”
“There is no tomorrow,” she said quietly.
He stiffened. The thought of Elle not being here tomorrow scared the shit out of him. He stared at her reflection. She held his gaze but he could see the anxiety in her eyes. He didn’t want her to have any reservations about tonight.
He softly kissed her neck, then her ear. “There is no tomorrow,” he said.
She gave a small smile and that was enough. His hands moved to the straps of her bra.
She clutched his wrists to stop him but let her hands fall away in surrender, closing her eyes.
He drew the material down over her shoulders before sliding his hands to her back, unhooking the material and letting the lingerie fall to the floor.
Elle stood bared to him, her image so beautiful it physically hurt.
Emmett leaned down and kissed her shoulder, trailing his lips up her neck, stopping just under her ear. “You are my heart, Elle.”
She drew in a ragged breath. “Emmett,” she choked on a sob. “I’m afraid.”
His hands slid up her arms and he felt her tremble under his touch but he pushed on, nuzzling the soft skin of her neck.
Her eyes remained closed and he watched helplessly as several tears trailed down her cheeks. It pained him to watch her suffer but he knew, deep in his soul, she needed to rid herself of these demons that filled her with doubt. And he wouldn’t let her do it with any man but him.
Emmett kissed one side of her neck and then let his mouth trail along her skin to the other. “You’re still you, Elle. I want you to see that.”
His soul seemed to scream at him to tell her he loved her, but that was the one thing he couldn’t do. Instead, he loved her with his hands, his mouth, his touch.
“I love everything about your body, Elle.” He ran his mouth down the curve from her neck to her shoulder. “It’s softness.” Slowly he turned her in his arms until she faced him.
Her lids fluttered but stayed closed.
He bent his head, laying kisses across her delicate collar bone. “It’s sweetness.”
She shivered.
He ran his lips up her neck again until his mouth found hers, pressing gently in to her body.
He purposely kept the kiss light. There would be time for more later. Finally, Emmett drew away, smiling as Elle leaned into him.
This time, he lowered his head to her chest, his lips skimming over the scars of her mastectomy.
Her fingers tightened around his upper arms.
He silently gave thanks for her courage, her strength, her bravery. She’d fought the cancer, and won. She was a survivor. The scars were her trophies.
“But most of all,” Emmett whispered against her skin, “I love your strength.”
Elle stilled but he could feel her softening as he continued to kiss her and run his hands over her body. A body that was still so achingly sweet, it slayed him.
He turned her back to face the mirror. “Elle,” he said quietly.
She raised her gaze, but she didn’t look at her reflection.
“Look at yourself,” he whispered against her neck, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Look at this beauty I see.”
She shook her head.
Emmett interlaced their fingers and placed her palm on her torso, his own hand covering hers. He ran their fingertips up to the scars that laced her body. That’s all they were. Lacings, like the ribbons on her ballet shoes.
He held their hands over her bared chest but didn’t move them. Sharing this intimate part of herself, the scars she thought defined her, was her journey to lead.
Slowly taking control, Elle moved their hands, trailing their fingers against her skin. Her eyes drifted up and met his in the mirror, burning with an emotion he couldn’t describe. Hope? Peace?
No, there wasn’t peace there, not yet, but there was trust.
Slowly their hands worked down her body and he caressed the soft skin of her abdomen, his gaze holding hers in the mirror. He was transfixed by her beauty and strength.
Her lids lowered to stare at their joined fingers as he moved their hands to her other breast now. Her breath caught when he ran his fingers around the taut nipple. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, drawing her in tight.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered gently against her shoulder.
She raised her free hand and skated her fingertips across the long, jagged scar on her chest.
His eyes remained fixed on her beautiful face. The only thing he felt was the soul-deep connection they’d always shared.
“It’s ugly,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.
“Not true.” Emmett’s gaze fall to where her fingertips traced along her chest in the mirror in front of them. “Your scar is beautiful, Elle. Just like you. Nothing else matters to me.”
She turned in his arms, her hands wrapping around his neck as she clung to him.
He gripped her tight, holding her close as she cried.
They remained silent, needing no words to express how they felt. They were soulmates. His heartbeat told her everything she needed to hear.
I admire you.
I cherish you.
I love you.
Chapter Fifteen
Elle clung to Emmett as she sobbed, his words echoing in her mind.
Your scar is beautiful, Elle. Just like you. Nothing else matters to me.
She worked to control her emotions as Emmett held her tight. Slowly her tears eased, her breathing returning to normal.
Emmett pulled away, staring down at her face. His thumbs slid across her cheeks, wiping away the tears as his fingers wrapped around her head, bringing his lips to her face, kissing each cheek. Her lids fluttered closed and he kissed those as well.
She opened her eyes and studied his face. Was it love she saw staring back? Love for her? She hoped so, because she was falling in love with him all over again. She’d probably never really stopped loving Emmett Sumner. He gave her strength.
Elle released him, stepping back and exposing her chest. She fought the need to cover herself, drawing in a deep breath and holding it for several heartbeats before releasing the words on a sigh. “I’m ready.”
Elle watched as Emmett slowly raised his hand, reaching out to touch her scar again. When his fingertips traced over her skin, she felt his touch down to her toes.
“It’s not bad,” he whispered. “It’s actually not like others I’ve seen online.”
Elle shrugged. He was right. She’d had an excellent surgeon and was thankful, but still she felt self-conscious.
“I love it,” he said, leaning down to press his mouth against her chest, his lips lightly skimming over the scar. He pulled back and looked at her, his eyes dark with desire. “Don’t ever run from me again, Elle.” Emmett’s words rumbled through her body. His statement wasn’t a command but a plea from a man who had been hurt, by her. She’d tried to save him the agony of going through her journey, but instead she had broken him, and in doing so had broken herself.
He kissed her forehead. “I understand why you did, both times. I’m just asking that next time you have more faith in me. In us.”
She nodded and her head slipped to his shoulder. She pressed her cheek into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.
Emmett’s hands slipped down her hips, cupping her bottom. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he whispered as he lifted her in the air. “Where’s old lady Payne’s apartment?”
She laughed out loud. “Are you serious?” She wanted to be intimate with Emmett again more than she wanted to breathe, but still. “Here?”
“I can’t wait for you, Elle.” His words were strained and she felt the bulge in his pants pressing against her center.
Had she done that? Elle had thought it impossible for a man to ever want her that way again after losing her breast.
Emmett lifted her with ease and she tightened her legs around his waist, her arms wrapped solidly around his broad shoulders.
He groaned. Apparently, she was wrong.
A small smile tugged at her lips. She knew now she could affect a man. But the only one she wanted to was carrying her through the dance studio and toward the steps she’d shown him earlier.
“Up there?” he growled.
Elle nodded, unable to speak.
Emmett released one hand and opened the door, rushing up the stairs like a sprinter.
As they made their way to the top, Elle pointed to another door that held the small efficiency apartment.
Moonlight streamed from a window at the back of the small space, washing the room in a low glow. Emmett walked them both toward the bed and lowered her onto the mattress. She repeated the mantra, You can do this, you can do this, reminding herself it was only Emmett.
Suddenly she remembered she wasn’t wearing a top. Thankfully Emmett came down on top of her, shielding her nakedness.
“Elle,” he whispered.
“Yes?”
“I want you.” Emmett moved to pull away but Elle held his neck tight, preventing him from moving.
He tugged her hands away. “It’s me, Elle. I’ve seen you. I’ve touched you. I want to touch more of you.” A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
Her hands slipped away. “Okay,” she whispered.
Emmett sat back on his knees, staring down at her. His eyes roamed over every inch of her body. She moved to cover her chest, but he grabbed her hands mid-motion and brought them to her sides.
Emmett’s hands spread wide across her ribs, his thumbs caressing the underside of her breast while the other trailed over her scar. His eyes were fixated on her body, his expression one of awe. It wasn’t something she ever thought she’d see in a man’s eyes again.
Elle’s breath steadied and her heartbeat settled in to a more even pace.
He slowly scooted down her body, his hands tracing her skin as he moved. His fingers stopped at the edge of her underwear, his eyes now locked on hers.
Elle cocked her head, her hands still by her side, gripping the sheet. She wanted to feel Emmett’s body against hers, feel his mouth caress her skin like it had the one night they’d spent together. He was obviously not affected by her scar.
&
nbsp; His body remained still, his eyes pleading.
She realized he was waiting for permission. “Yes,” she whispered.
Emmett needed no more encouragement. His fingers tucked into the waist of her underwear and slowly slid them down her hips.
The cool air brushed against Elle’s bare skin and she drew in a breath as she watched Emmett pull her panties away and toss them on the floor.
He stared down at her exposed body, his hands sliding up her outer thighs. Goose bumps skittered along her skin.
“What about you?” she asked with a small smile, finally feeling comfortable with him, almost as much as she had in New York.
His eyes met hers as he tugged at the buttons of his shirt. The material fell open and Elle slid her hands across his broad chest and over muscular shoulders, reveling in the feel of his hardness. She watched as he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, obviously as affected by her touch as much as she was his. Elle slipped the shirt down his arms and tossed it to the side as he had her underwear.
Emmett Sumner with clothes on was a sight to behold, but Emmett Sumner shirtless was a vision, one she would never tire of.
“All of it.” She smirked.
He laughed. “My, my, someone’s getting brave.”
Elle reached out to caress his chest, scraping her fingernails down his skin. “You made me brave,” she said.
This stopped him. “You’ve always had strength and courage. I didn’t have to give you anything in that department. It’s you who makes me brave.”
She glanced down at his jeans. “Brave enough to take those off?”
Emmett laughed as he jumped off the bed, working fast to rid himself of his pants and underwear.
Her eyes went wide, her mouth-watering as she gawked, all thoughts of self-consciousness gone. She sighed. His body was smooth and hard and filled out in just the right places.