Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Declan
The Sterling house groans around me. Normally I don’t notice all the little noises, but with Emery here, I need to stay vigilant. Every sound could be a threat.
Knowing she’s just on the other side of the wall won’t allow my body to settle. My ink crawls restlessly under my skin, itching like it remembers the way she touched it. The way she was marked.
I press my palm over my chest, willing the lines there to still. They don’t. They haven’t since she came prying into my life.
I focus on the quiet. The wind sliding through the trees outside my windows. Nothing else. No hoofbeats. No iron tang in the air. No pressure in my skull that tells me the Rider’s near.
For now, she’s safe, and I’m able to drift into sleep.
A floorboard creaks outside my door. More than the usual creaking of this old house. I cock my head, listening for it again. There.
I toss the covers aside and hurry to the door. I left it ajar earlier to make sure I’d be able to hear Emery if she needed me. I open it wider and step into the hallway.
A shadowy figure. Slight green glow moving through the shadow. Coming closer.
“Emery?”
“Ack!” Thud. Bang.
I flick the hall light on.
“Ow,” Emery moans, rubbing her hip. The movement draws my attention to the shirt she’s wearing.
My T-shirt. With my shop’s logo flowing softly over her generous breasts, fabric tight where her nipples press against it.
The sight squeezes my balls, heat flashing down my spine before I can stop it.
I slide my hungry gaze over her body. The hem stops above her knees, showing off her bare legs and feet.
Desire thrums through me, low and insistent. “Aren’t you cold?” I snap.
“What?” She screws her face into a scowl.
“No. I thought I heard something. And this,” she holds up her wrist, the green light glowing and swirling around her wrist. “Doesn’t have an off switch.
” She glowers at the table. “Then I banged my hip into this lovely thing, that I assume is some fancy antique?”
She raises her eyebrows but continues rubbing her hip.
I should ask if she’s okay, but my tongue’s glued to the roof of my mouth. I can’t tear my gaze away from the hem of my shirt where it keeps moving up and down, revealing then shielding her smooth thighs.
Two snaps break me out of my trance. Emery’s fingers move in a zigzag in front of her and she snaps again. “Uh, hello? Did you go back to sleep while you’re standing there?”
“No.” My gaze shifts to her wrist. To the green mark. “Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore.” She frowns and twists her arm back and forth. “It’s just bright.”
Because we’re so close.
It would burn if the Rider were near.
What if we were even closer?
I curl my fingers around the edge of the table she bumped into, hard enough the wood bites into my palm. My gaze drags down her legs again. “Why aren’t you wearing the pants I brought you?”
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” She jerks her chin at my bare chest.
A rumble of laughter rolls out of me, the sound foreign in my throat.
She throws a dramatic hand against her chest. “Oh my God,” she drawls. “Did Declan Sterling just laugh?”
I wipe the grin off my face and rub my hand over my stomach. “I’m more comfortable sleeping like this.”
She tugs at the hem of the T-shirt. “Well, I’m comfy too.” She slides her gaze over me. “And I’m not complaining about your attire. Not at all. But I guess you think I look like a toad and want me to cover up, so…” she jerks her thumb over her shoulder, “I’m gonna go back to bed.”
“No, don’t.” I reach for her, wrapping my fingers over her wrist. My ink reacts immediately, pulsing and quivering with excitement. This time it’s not exactly unpleasant. More like the sensation of warm water ebbing against my skin.
Emery gasps. “What…what is that?”
Her wide eyes lock on mine, and for a split second, I forget to breathe. My heart thunders louder than hoof beats.
I tug her closer, her feet whispering over the old wood floors. She stops about an inch away.
“I’m afraid to touch you again,” she whispers.
“I know.” I run my gaze over her again and give her the most important truth. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She lowers her lashes and stares at our linked hands. “We’re touching now and it feels good.”
I hold out her arm, searching to see if the green has crept elsewhere. It’s still just the single thin green line. Relief loosens my chest, but my need for her coils tighter.
If I don’t let her go soon, I won’t let her go at all.
“Emery…” Her name grates out of me, rougher than I intend. More like a warning.
Run. Go back to your room and lock the door behind you.
She tips her chin up. “What?”
“You should go back to bed,” I rasp.
“Why?” She stares at me, pure challenge in her eyes and steps closer.
“Don’t.”
She carefully slides her arms around my neck and presses herself against me. “You’re all nice and warm.” Her bottom lip juts out. “And I’m chilly.”
“There’re extra blankets in the trunk.” For fuck’s sake, I can’t come up with something better than that?
She leans up on tiptoes but I’m already bending down. Our lips crash together before I can list all the reasons I shouldn’t allow this.
Her lips are warm, eager, and part under mine. She tastes like sleep and cinnamon. My free hand fists in the fabric of my T-shirt, loose around her body, dragging her closer until her curves press into my bare chest.
“Emery…” I grind her name against her lips, kissing her again, slower now, reverent and reckless all at once. My hands map the curve of her waist, the softness of her skin beneath my shirt.
The mark on her wrist flares hot against my skin where we’re still touching. I release her, expecting her to wince in pain. Instead, her kisses turn more insistent. No iron tang, just the sweet taste of her filling my mouth. No hoofbeats. The Rider isn’t close.
We’re safe.
For now.
The thought that this might be our only time together rattles through my head, loosening the desire I’ve kept shackled down since the moment she walked into my shop. I cup her face in both hands and kiss her deeper, slower, savoring the slide of her tongue against mine.
A small, needy whimper from her throat shoots straight through me.
Her arms tighten around my neck, like she’s trying to get closer, fuse our bodies together.
I slide my hands to the small of her back, then lower, cupping her behind and pulling her into me.
I fist the shirt in my hands and drag the material up until my knuckles graze warm skin.
“You’re not wearing underwear,” I groan.
She smiles against my lips. “Nope.”
The last shred of self-control I have snaps. I grip her hips and back her against the table, lifting her and setting her on top.
Emery
The table I’d bumped into earlier is cool under my butt. Afraid I’ll tip it over, I scoot back from the edge. But Declan’s right there, wedging himself between my knees and anchoring me in place.
“Emery,” Declan breathes in my ear, sliding his fingers through my wetness. I can’t help but spread my legs wider, granting him access. “You’re really not wearing anything.”
“Look at you, so observant.” I was trying to be playful but I just sound desperate.
Shivers dance over my skin as he traces one finger along my hip. “Not even a tiny little thong.” Pure male amazement colors his words.
“I don’t like thongs,” I pant.
He groans and squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds like he’s savoring the feel of me. “You’re so wet.”
Heat flames over my cheeks. Not embarrassment. Excitement that he’s touching me. That he’s discovering how much of an effect he has on me.
“The ride here…” I gasp. “I’ve been turned on ever since.”
“Good to know,” he growls. “You liked that, huh?”
“God, yes.” I whimper and tighten my arms around his neck, lifting myself to get closer. None of the usual shyness or anxiety about getting physical with someone touches me. I’m too keyed up. “Please.”
His lips curl into a cocky smirk. “Please what?”
Not in the mood for games, I hook my arm around his neck and tug him closer. “Can you make me come?” I shove as much challenge into the question as I can.
“I’d be honored to try.” He brushes a kiss against my cheek while his thumb rubs a distracting circle on my inner thigh. “I owe you that much, since riding on the back of my bike got you so hot and bothered.”
“It wasn’t the bike,” I admit, practically panting to have him move his fingers a few inches north. “It was you.”
His lips tilt up, making him look like he wants to jump on top of the tallest building in Crowsbridge Hollow and beat on his perfectly chiseled chest.
“Don’t be smug.” I slide my hand down his arm and graze my knuckles against his abs. “I’m sure you’re aware of the effect you have on women.”
His eyebrows pinch into a frown. “Only woman I’m concerned about is right in front of me.”
In front of him and ready to twine around his legs like a cat in heat.
He drags one rough hand over the inside of my leg again and shivers cascade along my skin. At my inner thigh, he slows his movements and trails kisses to my neck. My nipples tighten to hard points, pressing against the fabric of the T-shirt that feels much less soft on my sensitized skin now.
Something hard prods my leg and I reach down, finding his stiff cock straining against the satin material of his shorts. I wrap my fingers around him—whoa, he’s huge. I’ll need an orgasm or two before attempting to—
“Emery,” he groans and pushes my hand away. “Don’t distract me from my mission.”
I’ve never had a man so intent on pleasing me before.
He wedges his hand between my thighs and slides two fingers along my center. More demanding and less exploratory now. Like he’s on a mission. He studies my face closely as he slowly pushes two fingers inside me. I moan and grip his shoulder.
My breath catches from the look of wonder and satisfaction on Declan’s face.
“Relax,” he whispers, kissing my cheek again. “Let me have you.”
I spread my legs wider and shift closer to the edge of the table.
“That’s it,” he encourages, slowly working his fingers in and out of me.
I bite back a whimper of pleasure.
“No,” he scolds on a soft huff of air. “You can be as loud as you want here.”
He presses in deeper, stroking his fingers over a spot that makes me gasp and blurs my vision.
His thumb finds my clit and my body jerks while a low moan escapes my throat.
“That’s it.” He kisses my forehead and works his fingers in a steady rhythm that drives me wild. “You feel so good around my fingers, Emery. So fucking good.”
I moan loader and buck against his hand, frantic to come.
“Shhh. Relax. Let go. We’ve got plenty of time,” he assures me. “I could do this all night. No hurry.”
His words are so sincere, I take a breath and concentrate on his touch. Allow myself to sink in and enjoy the experience.
“Oh.” I grip his shoulder, digging my fingers into his skin. “Right there.”
He hums another sound of encouragement.
“Declan!”
“I know, baby.”
Baby in his low, growly voice while his skilled fingers expertly play every pleasure center sends me into outer space. My orgasm explodes through me, leaving me tingling and breathless.
I sag against him, every nerve still buzzing. Declan stays still, his body the only thing stopping me from collapsing into a puddle at his feet. He presses his lips to the side of my neck, beard stubble rasping against my jaw. It’s slow and almost reverent, making my pulse skip all over again.
His fingers slip free and he rests his hand on my thigh, steady, warm. “You okay?” he murmurs against my skin.
I nod, still trying to breathe. “I’m deviiiine.” I let out a snort-giggle. Can you get drunk off an orgasm? It feels like a possibility.
He rumbles with laughter and brushes my hair out of my face. “Good.”
I can’t even tease him about the smugness in his tone. The man deserves an award for his skills.
“Let’s get some sleep.” He slides one arm under my legs and scoops me off the table, swinging me in the direction of his room.
I squeal and loop my arms around his neck. “You’re taking me to your lair?”
One corner of his mouth slides up, then flattens. “You’ll be safest in there with me.”
Right. We’re supposed to be running from something, not doing…whatever this is. I stroke my fingers against his cheek. “Are you going to tell me why we’re here?”
Instead of answering, he bumps his elbow against his door and carefully pushes his way inside. He walks around a large king bed made of wood and thick bands of black iron and gently sets me on the edge.
His shorts are still tented to an impressive degree and I reach for him. “I think it’s your turn.”
He blocks me easily, shifting to the side. “Sleep.”
I blink at being rejected for the second time. He glances at a chair in the corner and for a second, I’m worried he’s going to choose to spend the rest of the night there.
But he slides in beside me and pulls the covers over both of us.
“Declan—”
“Sleep,” he says, voice low but certain. His arm lands across my waist, heavy and protective. “I’ve got you.”
His erection prods at my backside and I wiggle against him.
“Settle down.” He groans and clamps his arm tighter around my waist. “We’ll get there,” he promises.
Even though he’s turning me down, it doesn’t feel like rejection. I like the sound of we. And the promise of more to come.