Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jared
Emily’s pulse flutters beneath my thumb, a hummingbird caught in the cage of her throat. Our breaths mingle in the warm workshop, the air filled with everything I equate with the beautiful, vulnerable woman before me.
The lamp highlights the silver strands of her hair, the curve of her cheekbone under my palm, and the unexpected lushness of her bottom lip when she relaxes.
Neither of us moves, as if a single shift might shatter the fragile moment.
Emily keeps her eyes closed, one hand braced on the table edge while the other clutches mine. I want to memorize every detail, from the tiny scar at the corner of her mouth to the slight furrow of her brow to the way her chest rises and falls with each uneven breath.
When she opens her eyes, they shine silver in the lamplight, filled with questions she won’t ask. Fear. Hope. Doubt. All swimming beneath the surface.
I expect her to step back, to rebuild the walls she’s kept between us all week, but she stays rooted in place.
Instead of pulling away, I lean closer, keeping my palm against her jaw. “You don’t have to hold it together right now. Not here. Not with me.”
Her breath catches, half laugh and half sob. A tremor runs through her body, from her shoulders down to where my other hand now rests at her waist. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”
“Yeah, I do.” I brush my thumb across her lower lip, feeling its slight tremble.
This time, when I lean in, she meets me halfway.
The kiss deepens, her mouth opening beneath mine with a sigh that travels straight to my groin.
She releases her hold on the table to find the front of my shirt, gripping the fabric.
I move my hands to her hips, drawing her to stand so I’m not leaning over her, then steadying her when she sways toward me.
Her taste floods my senses with coffee, cinnamon, and the faint warmth of Thai spices left over from dinner.
Without pheromones to guide me, I navigate by touch and sound and taste, learning her responses through the slight catch in her breath when I tilt my head just so, the way her grip tightens when I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue.
Time stretches into honey-slow moments marked only by the increasing urgency of our mouths.
“Emily,” I breathe her name into the kiss, and she responds with a soft noise in the back of her throat.
Her body softens beneath my hands, tension melting away with each passing second. From the moment Auren stepped into the market, she’s been coiled tight, waiting for the next blow. Now, that protective shell unwinds in slow, quiet increments.
My fingers slide into her short silver hair, cupping the back of her head. The strands glide silky-smooth across my callused skin, and I handle her with the reverence she deserves.
When we break apart to breathe, her lashes lift, revealing a vulnerability I’ve never seen from her before. The tough superintendent, who commands crews with a single look, who rebuilds entire structures with her bare hands, now trembles within my touch.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, the promise brushing her lips. “You’re safe.”
Emily swallows hard, her throat working beneath my fingertips. For a moment, doubt clouds her eyes, years of learned distrust battling the proof in my touch, my mouth, and my presence at her side.
“I want to believe that,” she admits, so quietly I almost miss it.
“Then believe it.” I caress her jaw. “Even if it’s just for right now. Even if it’s only in this room.”
Her lashes flutter down again, but this time not in surrender to the kiss. I watch as she struggles to decide, and witness the exact moment when she chooses to trust and let go.
Her eyes open, and her hands slide up to cup my cheeks, thumbs brushing over my stubble.
“Just for now,” she agrees, the words catching in her throat. “Only in this room.”
“That’s enough.”
I capture her wrists, kissing her pulse point. A hint of salt lingers on her skin, heat rising where my mouth touches her, and her gasp sends a current racing through me.
Emily leans in this time, initiating the kiss with a confidence that makes my heart stutter. Her lips fit perfectly against mine, the slight height difference bridged by her lifting onto her toes. I grip her waist again, steadying her, drawing her closer to align our bodies.
A small sound escapes her, surprise and pleasure mingled, and I swallow it, treasure it.
The workbench digs into my thighs as she moves forward, crowding me back until I hit the edge.
For all of her feminine appeal, Emily possesses a strength that thrills me, the muscles in her arms firm beneath my palms as I slide my hands up to her shoulders.
“Is this okay?” she asks, with no hint of her usual steady confidence.
In answer, I pull her closer, erasing the last of the space between us. “More than okay.”
I find the hem of Emily’s shirt, fingers hesitating at the warm strip of flesh peeking above her waistband.
Her breath hitches as I caress the outline of her hipbone with my thumb in silent question.
Her answer comes in the slight arch of her back, pressing her body closer to mine, granting permission without words.
Emily’s skin burns as I slide my palms upward, mapping the contours of her ribs, the strong muscles of her back. Her breathing quickens, tickling my neck.
But when my thumbs brush the underside of her breasts, she stiffens.
I pause, waiting.
“Sorry,” she whispers, color rising to her cheeks. “It’s been… a while.”
“We can stop.” I hold still, though every nerve in my body screams to continue.
She shakes her head, silver hair catching the lamplight. “No. I want this. I want—”
The words catch in her throat, so her hands find mine, guiding them upward.
The soft fullness of her breasts fills my palms, and I take note of her reaction as I touch her.
Surprise flickers across her face, her lips parting as my thumbs brush slow circles over her nipples through the fabric of her sports bra.
It’s clear in every tiny shift that she’s unaccustomed to this kind of care, to being the one someone lingers over.
“You’re beautiful.” The truth drags out of me on a hungry breath, my body pulled tight with wanting.
Emily turns her head away, uncomfortable with the praise, but I guide her chin back with gentle fingers. Her eyes meet mine, silver and uncertain, and I realize, for all her strength and experience, no one has ever shown her how to receive pleasure rather than give it.
“Let me,” I whisper.
This time when I kiss her, I claim her mouth with mine, tongue sweeping past her lips, insistent and demanding.
She gasps, and I use the opportunity to delve deeper, tasting the heat and warmth of her, sparking a low hum of want that vibrates in my chest. My hands slide into her hair, cradling her head as I tilt it, changing the angle to delve deeper.
She clings to me, and the desperate sound that escapes her lips nearly undoes me.
I pull back far enough to nip at her bottom lip, and she shivers at the teasing bite. Her fingers tighten, fisting in my shirt. I soothe the spot with soft, open-mouthed kisses, feeling her melt beneath them.
When I release her, breathless and trembling, her knees buckle.
I steady her with an arm around her waist and flip our positions, pinning her to the workbench. Tools rattle as she braces herself, her knuckles white on the wooden edge. The dragon topples onto its undamaged side, wing still secured in its clamp.
My mouth finds the pulse at her throat, salt and cedar brushing my tongue.
Her head tips back, offering more in a rare surrender from someone who keeps the world at arm’s length. “Jared.”
My name falling from her lips in that husky sigh sends heat coursing through my veins, and my cock hardens. I work my way back to her mouth, tongue delving deep as my fingers find the button fly of her jeans.
The first one slips free under my touch, then the second. Emily’s breathing turns uneven, falling into a rhythm that matches the pounding of my heart.
The third button catches, and my fumbling earns a breathless laugh from Emily, her eyes lighting up and her cheeks blooming with color. I want to see this transformation again and again, to be the cause of it.
The button gives way, and the fourth follows easily. My knuckles brush the warm skin of her belly, and she sucks in a sharp breath, her muscles contracting at my touch. The fifth button yields, and her pants loosen, revealing simple cotton underwear.
I pause, my hand hovering at the waistband, seeking permission once more. Emily grips my hair, tugging me up for another kiss that answers more than words. Her tongue traces my bottom lip, and I groan into her mouth, sliding my hand lower, seeking her heat through the thin fabric.
Emily gasps as I slip beneath the waistband, the damp heat of her folds soaking my fingers. She bucks into my touch, hips surging forward as if no one has ever touched her like this, proving she’s always been the one to give and never receive.
I want her to lock around my fingers, to have her body pull at me in tight, rhythmic draws, desperate to take me deeper, to claim me.
My cock throbs, straining the front of my jeans, pressure building so fast I fear I’ll knot in my pants before I can even get inside her.
It won’t matter as long as I please her, as long as she feels how much I want her.
The shrill ring of a phone slices through the workshop, jarring as it disrupts the haze of desire that surrounds us. Emily freezes beneath my touch, her whole body going rigid.
The phone rings again, the sound coming from her pocket. Her eyes snap open, the spell broken.
“I should…” She swallows hard, her breathing unsteady.
“Ignore it,” I suggest.
But Emily is already reaching for her pocket, extracting the phone with a shaking hand. Reluctantly, I withdraw my hand from her underwear, wiping my fingers discreetly on my jeans.
The screen brightens as she checks the caller ID, and the color drains from her face. “It’s Pine Street Hospital. One of my crew could be hurt.” Her lips flatten into a thin line as she answers. “This is Emily Wilson.”
She pauses as she listens to the person on the other end.
Her shoulders drop, defeat written in the set of her jaw. “Yes, I understand. I’ll be there.”
She hangs up, her eyes hollow. “Auren’s been admitted. I’m still listed as his emergency contact.”
The warmth between us evaporates, replaced by a cold dread in the pit of my stomach as the woman who melted under my touch moments ago vanishes, locked away behind armor forged from years of being mentally abused.
“Emily.” I place my hand over hers where she grips the phone. “You don’t owe him anything.”
She won’t meet my eyes. “He’s hurt.”
“He’s manipulating you.” I search for any sign she’s listening. “He saw us at the market. He’s figured out you’re moving on. This is how he pulls you back.”
Emily begins fastening the buttons of her pants, each click of metal through fabric a barrier rebuilding between us.
“Please.” I catch her hand before she can finish erasing all evidence of our intimacy. “Don’t let him drag you back into his orbit.”
For a second, I think I might be reaching her.
Then, her jaw firms. “I have to see for myself.”
The words hit harder than they should. I bite down on everything I want to say. That Auren doesn’t deserve her kindness. That she keeps patching wounds when he’s the one who made them. That he twists her strengths into weaknesses.
“Then let me go with you,” I say, frustration making me impatient.
She meets my eyes, the conflict there cutting deep. “No. This isn’t something you can fix for me.”
“I don’t want to fix it. I just don’t want you walking in there alone. I want to support you. To help you.”
“That’s not your place,” she says. “You’ve done enough.”
I step between her and the door. “He has to have someone else who can go be with him.”
Emily slides past me, grabbing her keys from the workbench. “He only has his new Alphas, and if one of them hurt him…” She swallows hard. “I can’t leave him there, alone and scared. I wouldn’t do that to anyone.”
“Emily—”
She doesn’t look at me this time. “I’ll be back. Just wait for me.”
Her chin lifts with the same determination I’ve seen her show on the construction site when tackling a difficult dilemma.
The door opens, a blast of cold night air rushing in and raising goose bumps along my arms. Wind lifts strands of her silver hair, swirling them around her face. For a heartbeat, she pauses in the doorway, silhouetted by the darkness.
Then the door closes with finality, leaving me alone in the warm workshop with the heat of her still on my lips and the dragon lying on its side, its wing caught in mid-repair.
The echo of her footsteps fades, followed by the distant rumble of her truck’s engine.
The urge to call a rideshare and go after her nearly drowns out my inner voice, reminding me that she needs time alone, not another Alpha telling her what to do.
Instead, I pick up the fallen dragon and set it upright. The clamp holds firm, keeping the broken pieces aligned until the bond sets strong enough to stand on its own.
I hope Emily proves stronger than the dragon.