Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Declan
Emery’s the perfect co-pilot.
She points out each turn in advance, giving me time to signal and slow. I easily picture us on the road, traveling all over the country together. She can investigate hauntings and I’ll line up guest spots in local tattoo shops or bookings at conventions.
Hold up. Better not let myself get carried away. Besides the directions, she doesn’t say a word. Her silence could mean she’s thinking of a polite way to ask me to drop her off or she’s considering everything I said.
I meant every word.
Regret being with her. Is she nuts? She’s the smartest, most vibrant, interesting woman I’ve ever known. Brave and unshakeable too.
How could she convince herself I’d be settling for her?
Legacy doesn’t have to mean blood. If she wants kids, we can adopt. Or foster kids. Nope. Don’t mention that. She’s too skittish right now. One wrong word could send her into retreat mode.
I glance over and she’s staring out the window, hands folded in her lap. Completely calm on the outside, but on the inside, I’d bet her thoughts are all over the place.
“It’s up here on the right. The green and white two-story,” Emery says.
There’s a short driveway next to the simple house, but Emery’s car takes up the space. I pull to a stop at the curb in front.
I turn and meet her serious eyes.
Then, while holding her gaze, I deliberately shut off the truck and take out the key.
Invite me in.
Her fingers tighten around the roses, and her other hand reaches for the door handle.
“Do you want to come in?” she asks.
Fuck, yes, I do.
I jump out and round the truck to her side so fast, I’m probably nothing more than a blur to her. I open the door and offer her my hand.
Her fingers curl into mine.
“It’s, um, a simple two-family. Split into two apartments,” Emery explains.
“Wren lives in the upstairs apartment.” She points to the top floor, then to a similar house less than fifteen feet away.
The whole block is crammed full of similar, modest homes in various shades of white, beige or green. “Our landlord lives next door.”
“Convenient.”
I’ve gone down so many Emery Corbin rabbit holes in the last couple of days. Studied her channel, her website. Her rabid fanbase. She’s more popular than she lets on and has tons of followers. Somehow, I expected her to live in a nicer place.
She didn’t have a family to leave her a fucking estate, you classist asshole.
She’s done everything on her own.
Inside, the scent of cinnamon and something light and floral washes over me. She shrugs out of her coat and hangs it up in a small closet right inside the door.
It’s nicer than it looks from the outside. Warm and lived in.
A dark green leather couch with overstuffed cushions takes up most of the living room—comfortable, worn in the right places, like she actually uses it often.
Bookshelves line the wall, crammed with everything from paranormal research to racy-looking romance novels.
I can easily imagine her curled up on the couch, reading late into the night.
“It’s no gothic mansion, but it’s mine,” she says with a nervous laugh.
“It’s nice,” I say, meaning it. “Feels inviting.”
I shrug out of my coat and tuck it away in the same closet she stashed hers.
“Thanks.” She hesitates and waves the hand holding her roses toward the back of the house. “I’m going to put these in water. Do you want something to drink?”
I step closer and gently pry the flowers out of her hand and set them on the end of the couch. “No.” I rest my hand on her waist, curling my fingers in her sweater. “I’m fine.”
Her breath hitches and she sways forward. I slide my hand to her back and pull her against me.
She rests her hands on my chest. I brace myself in case she tries to push me away, but she grips the front of my shirt like she’s holding me in place, afraid I’ll disappear.
“Declan,” she breathes.
I dip down and rest my forehead against hers. “I missed you.”
Her fingers tighten in my shirt, and she peers up at me. “I missed you too. A lot.”
I press my lips to hers slowly, giving her time to change her mind. Her mouth softens under mine, tentative at first. Spicy cinnamon touches my tongue, a taste I’ll forever associate with Emery.
She lets out a surprised, needy little sound, and all the regret that’s been coiled tight in my chest since I found out she left finally unravels.
I slide my hand up her back, skating over the curve of her spine, the warmth of her skin through her thin sweater. She shivers, and this time it has nothing to do with the cold.
“Come here,” I murmur against her mouth.
She presses her body tight against mine and slides her arms around my neck.
“That’s my girl.” I smile against her cheek. “Where’s your bedroom?”
She keeps kissing me, like now that she started, she can’t stop.
I guide her backward, one step at a time, until her back’s against the wall. More needy little noises hum through her. She pauses and pulls back. “Wren really is right upstairs.” She points at the ceiling. “And it’s very much not soundproof.”
I widen my eyes, pretending to be scandalized. “You’re the screamer, not me.”
Pink spreads over her cheeks but one corner of her mouth slides up. “Technically, that’s your fault.”
Rumbling with laughter, I slip my hands under her butt and pick her up. “Bedroom now. Please.”
Laughing, she hooks one arm around my neck and points down the hallway. “Last door on the right.”
“Good.” I dip my head and playfully bite at her sweater. “Start shedding clothes.”
She wriggles in my arms and manages to get one sleeve off, revealing smooth skin and the edge of a purple bra. I push my way into her room, purple glows from LED strips neatly fastened along the room’s borders. I set her down gently, careful not to break the moment.
She finishes tugging her sweater off, her hair falling around and down her shoulders in a static-y storm. Her chest rises and falls in a choppy rhythm while she keeps her gaze trained on my face, like she’s waiting for me to make the next move.
I arch an eyebrow. “Keep going.”
“Your turn.”
I strip off my shirt and bask in the way her lips part. Her gaze traces the lines of my chest, where the curse’s ink used to crawl, now a blank canvas.
“Wow,” she breathes. “It’s really all gone.”
“Did you like me better with the ink?”
“I’d be hot for you with or without it,” she says softly.
I drop my gaze to her chest, and the corner of my mouth lifts. “Your bra matches the lighting.” The sheer purple lace also gives an enticing view of her perfect hard nipples straining against the fabric. I swallow hard, trying not to drool on myself.
She drags her hands to the clasp in the center of her chest, playing with it until I’m ready to lose my damn mind. “I was in a purple mood today.”
I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I do know one thing. “It looks good on you.”
Obviously enjoying the torturous hold she has on my attention, she slides her hands to the waistband of her jeans, pops the button, and slowly peels them down her legs, revealing matching panties. She straightens and toes the jeans sideways.
Dragging my starving gaze from her legs to her waist, to her breasts, I linger on her nipples and rub my hand over my jaw. “How are you even more stunning than I remember?”
“Trick of the lighting?” She lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug.
“No trick.” I strip off my pants and advance on her.
Still facing me, she eases onto the mattress. I kneel between her legs and hook my fingers in her waistband. “These are pretty, but they need to go.” I drag her underwear down her legs, then crawl over her body, caging her underneath me.
I kiss along her neck, tasting salt and inhaling the light floral scent of her hair. She curls her fingers around my forearms, arching under me.
“Declan,” she whispers. “I want you so much.”
An excited rush of relief washes over me. Our attraction wasn’t created by the curse. It’s real. “You’ll have me,” I promise. “All of me. But let me take my time.”
She whines a frustrated noise and twists underneath me, her soft skin rubbing against mine in crucial places.
Hanging onto control by a thread, I trail lower, kissing along her collarbone, peppering more kisses on her chest, between her breasts.
I graze my teeth over one nipple, capturing the thin lace and tugging.
Her breath catches. “Declan, please,” she whines, threading her arms through mine and finally releasing the clasp.
“Fuck me,” I breathe out, nudging the cups aside with my chin. “You’re so fucking pretty.”
“Thank you.” She slides her hands down my back and under the waistband of my briefs, tugging them down a few inches.
“You’re interrupting me.” I’m on fire for her but still take my time teasing my tongue over her nipples, kissing her breasts and down her ribcage, exploring all the curves I’ve been obsessing over since the last time we were together. Her skin’s hot under my palms, her moans low and ragged.
I slide my hand between her legs, settling my fingers against her clit. “I’m going to lick you right here,” I whisper. “Would you like that?”
“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, please.”
“So polite,” I tease, moving lower to kiss her thighs, then spread her wide open. I bury my face in her wetness and let out a groan of pleasure.
“Oh fuck!” she yelps and clamps her hand over her mouth.
“Shhh,” I warn, desire slamming into me all at once. Wetness coats my fingers as I slide my fingers over her lips up to her clit. “Do you ever do this?” I rub faster against her swollen clit.
She rocks herself into my hand. “Not like that.” She grips my arms again, nails digging into my skin. “Your hands are amazing.”
“Tell me what else you like,” I murmur, then flick my tongue against her and draw her clit between my lips.
“That!” she gasps and swivels her hips. “That’s good. So good,” she repeats over and over.
She lets go, clutching my hair and letting out desperate whimpers.
Her back arches and she lets out a louder cry. My face stays buried in her as she pulses and squeezes around me. When her panting slows, she opens her eyes and gives me a soft, dopey grin.
I kiss my way up her body. “That was beautiful. I need you to do it again.”
Her dazed eyes stare up at me. “What about you?”
I roll next to her in bed and grip my erection, slowly stroking. “I’m going to be inside you this time.”
She shifts onto her knees, and I pull her over me. We groan together as she slowly sinks down on me.
“That’s it.” I cup her breasts as she rocks herself up and down. “Touch yourself for me.”
She slips one hand between her legs and rubs as she grinds herself on me. “Having you here in the flesh is so much better than doing it on my own,” she whispers.
“You touch yourself thinking about me?” I slide my hands to her waist and help her move faster.
“God, yes,” she moans, resting one hand on my chest and shifting her weight, grinding down on me from a different angle.
Her admission and the new angle flip my switch. “Em—”
“Come with me,” she begs.
Thank God. My entire body jerks and shudders as release explodes through me.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants as if she’s enjoying my orgasm as much as her own.
Breathing hard, I pull her down on top of me, wrapping my arms around her tight. “Don’t ever disappear on me again,” I whisper against her hair. “Please.”
She pulls back and stares at me with shiny eyes. And somehow, I know she’s still scared.
She settles next to me, and I turn to face her. “I love you. It’s not the curse—or lack of one. It’s you.”
“Dec—”
“No.” I cut her off before she can offer any excuses. “I want to travel to all the haunted, spooky places you want to investigate. I want—”
“What about your shop?”
I shrug. “Lucy can handle it. I’ll hire another artist. I can book spots at other shops when you and I are on the road. It’ll just take a bit of coordination.”
“You’d do that?” She frowns. “For me?”
“Well, someone needs to keep you out of cemeteries at night and help you carry all those heavy bags you lug around,” I tease, retreating into a lighter mode before I spook her. One thing at a time.
I sit up, searching for my jeans and grab a small box out of my pocket. As I fall back against the pillows next to her, she gasps and frowns at the box.
“Wh…what is that?”