Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
EMERY
“Woah.” Izzy blinks wide, dazzling blue eyes as she crawls through the doorway of the tree house. “I didn’t know these things actually existed.”
“You thought tree houses were made up?” I ask, amused.
She’s so freaking adorable.
“Of course not.” A blush tints her cheeks, and I’m grateful that, for the first time ever, she’s the one embarrassed instead of me.
“Flustered” seems to be my perpetual state around her.
And horny.
“I just thought they were something people did in movies, not in real life. Foster child, remember?”
I chuckle, even as a whip lacerates my heart, making it ache.
I hate thinking of Izzy in the foster system—all alone, desperate to find someone, anyone, to love her.
It makes me angry at her bio dads all over again, despite knowing they're not to blame.
She wants someone to love her. Care for her. Protect her.
I vow to myself that I will be that person. Now and always.
“We made this years ago. Me, Ethan, and our father.” I grin as I remember that day years ago.
Dad asked us if we wanted to build a tree house with him and his other pack mates, and of course, Ethan and I said yes. What ten-year-old boy wouldn’t want a super-secret hideout built in a tree?
Sydney declared herself the “boss” of the entire operation and sat in a camping chair below, shouting out orders. It took us an entire day of hard, sweaty work, but the result was worth it.
A hanging ladder leads to a doorway you have to crawl through.
Natural wood dominates the interior—smooth, warm-toned planks make up the floors, walls, and beams. The scent of pine and cedar lingers in the air.
Moonlight filters through the windows cut into the walls, framed by wooden shutters, casting dappled patterns on the floor.
Out one window, you can see the back of my house. Out the other, you can only make out leaves that shift in the breeze. The only items in the tiny house are blankets—worn with age and use—and a few pillows, as well as a novel Ethan used to read years ago.
It’s cozy and homey and exactly the vibe I want for my time with Izzy.
“God, it’s been…years since we’ve been up here.” I throw myself down on the mound of blankets. “Mom will come here every once in a while to wash the blankets, but…”
I shake my head, at a loss for words. Honestly, I don’t know why we stopped climbing up here. Maybe we thought we were too cool to enjoy something as childish as a tree house? Whatever the reason, I find that I miss this place.
Miss the late-night chats with my brother.
At some point, probably when we turned into surly pre-teens, we moved to the basement of our house, which also serves as a makeshift game room. Then we got too old for even that.
But things are changing between the two of us, and Izzy’s the leading cause of that.
“So you don’t bring all the girls up here?” Izzy asks teasingly, though there’s a note of hesitation in her voice. Unease. Trepidation.
I realize with a start that she’s not as confident in this relationship as she may appear.
“Only you,” I tell her seriously.
Only ever you.
Yeah, I may have acted flirty and confident at school, but that was only ever a front. Ethan was known as the smart twin, so I had to develop an identity for myself to separate from him. Thus, the “flirty twin” came to fruition.
But that’s not who I am, not who I want to be.
Bolstering my courage, I grab Izzy’s hands in both of mine. “Look, I’m not good at talking about feelings and all that crap, but it has to be pretty obvious by now that I like you. A lot.”
Fuck, I need to get this all out before I lose my courage, before I swallow the words back down, lock them away, and refuse to let them see the light of day again.
“And I know you’re with Ethan and Reid and that vampire, Grayson. I also see the way you look at Ansel. What I’m saying is… Fuck, why is this so hard?” I scrub a hand down my face, my mind whirling, the familiar claws of panic raking down my chest.
What if she rejects me?
Sends me away?
I don’t think she will, but…
“I like you too, Em.” Izzy’s words vanquish the tempest in my head. “I don’t know what this all means yet, and I’m fucking terrified, but I like you. I really, really like you.”
“You mean it?” I smile widely, scarcely able to believe it.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted but didn’t know how to ask for.
She leans closer, and my heart thunders at her proximity. She’s so fucking beautiful that it isn’t fair. She has to know what her mere presence does to me and my brain, which turns to mush at every touch, every word, every coy glance.
I struggle to speak. “Look, you don’t have to…you know…if you don’t want to. I mean, you can, if you want, but you don’t, and I wouldn’t expect you to, and—”
“Em?”
“Yes?” I blink at her, dumbstruck.
“Just kiss me already.” She grabs at my shirt and tugs, forcing my lips to hers.
Ho-ly fuck.
I never imagined in my wildest dreams that it would be like this.
She pries my lips apart with hers, and her tongue darts in, tangling with mine. I moan low in my throat as she shifts to straddle me.
My cock strains against my jeans, and it takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to rock against her. Fuck, she just feels so damn good in my arms, and with her smell surrounding me…
She deepens the kiss, and blood sluices in my head as Fourth of July fireworks burst to life behind my closed eyes. I didn’t even realize I shut them.
But I want to see her expression, see every minuscule twitch as she falls apart in my arms.
I rip my lips away from hers, struggling to regain control, to modulate my breathing.
“Fuck, pretty girl. We have to stop. We have to…”
She begins to plant open-mouthed kisses against my neck.
“Do you want to stop?” Her words are husky, laced with desire and unbridled heat.
“What type of question is that?” My lashes flutter as sensations overwhelm me. “But I’m trying to be a gentleman here and—”
Izzy leans away from me, whips off her shirt, and tosses it aside. Her bra follows next.
Me no brain. No brain me. Words no.
My mouth waters as I stare at her perfect tits and those tight nipples desperate for my mouth.
“Be a good boy and kiss me right…” She trails a finger up her bare stomach, between the valley of her breasts, until she reaches her right nipple. Slowly, her eyes never leaving mine, she circles it until the nub hardens. “Here.”
My cock jerks to life, and I immediately lean forward to capture her dusky nipple in my mouth. I run my tongue back and forth over the tip, flicking it repeatedly, before sucking it roughly.
She moans and scrapes her fingernails up and down my back, catching them in the fabric of my shirt and pulling it up in the process. I release her tit to remove my shirt and then immediately pick up where I left off.
I swear I could play with her nipples for hours, but Izzy has other ideas.
With an impish smirk, she pushes at my shoulders, forcing me to sit upright once more.
“Lie on your back,” she instructs, her husky voice cascading through me like magma, lighting my body on fire.
I do as she says, my heart racing, my palms damp with sweat, my cock chafing against my damn jeans.
“Holy fuck, pretty girl,” I rasp. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Izzy straddles my waist once more, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than a shirtless Izzy on top of me.
“I’m going to make you beg for me, Emery,” she warns. “And you’re going to be a good boy and accept only what I give you.”
A whimper catches in my throat, and I instinctively reach for her waist, my fingers flexing on her bare skin.
“Hands to yourself,” she barks.
“But…”
“Hands to yourself,” she repeats, and I immediately lower my hands back to my sides.
Fuck, I want to touch her, feel her, run the pads of my fingers across her satiny skin.
But more than anything, I want her to praise me again. Call me a good boy. Reward me.
Holy fuck.
Izzy grins deviously and then lowers her lips to my jawline, planting chaste, gentle kisses down the column of my throat. Every once in a while, her teeth scrape against my skin, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
Her mouth moves lower, and a shock of sensation rushes through me when she captures one of my nipples in her mouth.
“Holy fuck!” I pant out, writhing. “That feels so good, baby. So fucking good. Please let me touch you. Please. I want to make you feel good.”
“I’m not done with you yet,” she tells me silkily as she continues kissing down my toned stomach, stopping to pay particular attention to each ab.
Her nipples graze against my skin with each slide of her tongue, only adding to the sensation.
Lower and lower she travels, until she reaches the waistband of my jeans. With a flick of her wrist, she undoes the button then begins to pull them down.
I lift my hips instinctively, and she wiggles the pants and boxers down my ass and then stops when they reach my knees.
“Look how hard you are for me,” she murmurs, reaching for my shaft and wrapping her hand around it. “Do you want to fuck me, Emery?”
A coy smile unfurls on her lips as she lowers her head to my throbbing cock and licks the tip.
My heart pounds in my ears, my whole body feverish with need. Need for her.
“Izzy, please,” I cry, honest-to-fuck whimpering.
“Please what?”
“Please let me fuck you. I want to make you feel good, baby.”
“Hmm. Let me think about it.” Izzy taps her chin in mock contemplation…then lowers her mouth over my cock, taking me in deep.
“Holy fuck.” I dig my nails into the tree-house floor as Izzy’s mouth works over my cock, her head bobbing up and down repeatedly. One of her hands snakes between our bodies to fondle my balls, and the dual sensations nearly send me spiraling over the edge.
“Fuck, Izzy. Holy fuck. I need to fuck you so bad. So fucking bad.”
Love for her sinks its teeth into me in a way that’s almost painful. Never in a million years would I have believed that falling in love would equate to pain, but here we are.
And it’s the sweetest fucking ache imaginable.
Izzy releases my cock and smiles at me, her blue eyes dazzling. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. I think you deserve a reward.” She licks her lower lip, the sight almost sinful. “Do you have a condom?”
“Oh…fuck.” I drop my head to the floor with an audible thunk.
Of course I fucking don’t. I’m an eighteen-year-old virgin who has been waiting for his mate. And of course I didn’t take Izzy out tonight expecting sex.
“I’m sorry. Fuck. Maybe I could—”
“What the hell is going on in here?” a familiar voice demands.
Izzy screeches, and I’m moving before my brain can even catch up, lunging for Izzy and covering her half-naked body with my own.
She reaches for the blanket beneath us and awkwardly attempts to pull it over her shoulders to cover herself.
I hastily pull up my jeans and boxers, though I don’t bother to button them up.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My father looks almost comical on his hands and knees, gaping at us through the tiny door to the tree house. His shocked gaze flicks from my half-naked body to Izzy’s covered one. Anyone with eyes can see what we’ve been up to.
I see a plethora of emotions flicker across my father’s face before it settles on one—anger.
“Emery! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you know how late it is?”
I can’t remember the last time my father yelled at me. It’s certainly been a few years.
“Sorry, Dad. We were on a date, and—” I begin, but his incandescent glare causes the words to shrivel into a tight ball and get caught in my throat.
“Your mother has been worried sick! And I’m sure Isabella’s parents are worried too.” He levels his angry glare on my mate, and immediately I bristle, wanting to protect her from his ire.
I know it’s irrational, but my mate instincts are riding me in a way they never have before. Protect. Protect. Protect.
“It’s not her fault,” I exclaim.
“Isabella, I think you should leave.” My father’s voice is glacial.
Izzy’s cheeks are as red as the blanket around her.
“Yes. Of course. I’m…um…sorry.” She awkwardly reaches for her shirt and bra, my father’s gaze tracking her movements with a laser-like focus.
“Dad,” I snap. “A little privacy?”
That only seems to piss him off further, his face turning purple, but he huffs and wiggles back out of the door.
Izzy quickly dresses, the color in her cheeks refusing to recede.
“I’m sorry about this,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice low so my dad won’t overhear—though he probably will with his shifter hearing. “I had no idea he would act like this. I’ve never had a girl over before, but I should’ve assumed—”
“It’s okay.” She places her hand over mine. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”
“I did too.”
Her lips are so plump, so kissable, so—
She leans towards me, our lips only inches apart.
“Emery!” Dad barks.
Fuck.
“Sorry,” I mouth, cringing.
Why does my father have to be so damn embarrassing?
“I’m sorry I got you in trouble.” She winces.
“Worth it.” Heat pervades me instantly at just the memory of what we got up to.
Her touch, her kiss, her mouth… Ugh. That goddamn mouth of hers. It’ll feature prominently in my dreams for the foreseeable future.
“You have five seconds to get your ass out here!” Dad snarls.
Fuck.
Izzy chuckles. “So much for making a good impression on your parents.”
“Don’t worry about them. They don’t have to love you.”
Because I already do.
I don’t say those words out loud, of course. Saying them will make them real, and that’s terrifying. Absolutely, one hundred percent terrifying. I’m not ready to confess that truth just yet.
I allow Izzy to crawl out of the tree house in front of me, and I find my gaze drawn to the rounded globes of her ass.
Fuck.
She’s perfect.
And she’s mine.
Soon, she’ll be mine in every way imaginable. There’s no takesies-backsies. She already agreed to it, and I’ll hold her to her word.
After all, there’s no going back for me. She owns me—heart, body, and soul.
She just doesn’t know it yet.