Chapter 2 #2
James blinked, clearly confused. “I’m sorry, what?”
I mentally cursed myself. Why was I so nervous? It wasn’t like I was a virgin, so why was I acting like one?
“I was wondering,” I began again, trying to regain some composure, “maybe if you want, I could come up to your place and we could have a nightcap or something?” The words came out in a rush, and I was immediately mortified by how awkward my self-invitation sounded.
James, ever calm and collected, lifted my chin gently, making me meet his stare. “Why are you rambling like a nervous wreck? You don’t do that.”
I swatted his hand away, more annoyed at myself than him, but his lack of immediate understanding didn’t help. “Never mind,” I snapped, then turned to leave, embarrassed by the whole situation.
Before I could take a step, James grabbed my arm and spun me back toward him. He pushed me against the door, pinning my hands above my head with such a sudden intensity, it sent a shiver down my spine.
“Emma,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper, inches from my ear, “would you like to come up for a drink?” His breath danced across the shell of my ear, which made me nearly moan with anticipation.
I nodded, closing my lids as his lips trailed from my ear down to my neck, inducing a rush of heat through my body.
“Is that a yes?” he whispered.
“Yes!” I replied too loudly. My patience was wearing thin, and I was too eager to take this upstairs.
He grinned with a wicked glint in his eyes, releasing one of my hands but keeping the other firmly in his grasp. With a confident stride, he led me to the highest level of the Palace.
Excitement and nervousness blended together, and both made my heart race as he opened the door to his loft.
He led me through the familiar space, our footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. We’d spent time here before but tonight seemed different—charged with an anticipation which made the atmosphere become thicker, more intense.
James paused at the base of the stairs leading up to the rooftop, then turned to look at me with a smile, equal parts invitation and challenge. "Want to watch the stars with me?" he asked quietly.
I nodded almost too fast, as my heart skipped a beat. His hand remained wrapped around mine while he guided me up the steps, my legs a little unsteady beneath me. When we reached the rooftop, the cool night air kissed my skin—a clear contrast to the heat simmering between us.
James released me, and with a flick of his wrist, he translated two glasses of Scotch and a thick, soft blanket. He spread it over a section of the rooftop before handing me one of the glasses, then sat down, and pulled me to his side.
“To the remarkable woman before me,” he said, lifting his own glass. “For your strength, your fire, and the quiet grace with which you face what others would run from.”
His voice was calm, but beneath it ran a current of emotion that made my chest ache.
Our eyes met, and I forgot how to breathe. His gaze—green with shadows like forests at dusk—held me fast.
“You make it hard to look away,” I mumbled, the truth soft on my tongue.
I took a sip. The Scotch was smooth, rich, and warm, threading heat through my veins as the blanket drew tighter around us, sealing the quiet magic of the moment.
“I don’t see why you should be able to look away,” he murmured, eyes still locked on mine, “when you’re the only thing I’ve never been able to look past.”
My breath hitched.
Something in me—something buried and aching—rose to meet the truth in his voice.
Before I could say anything more, he leaned in, his lips brushing mine in a kiss—slow, intense, pouring raw emotion into me until I was breathless.
His leather and ginger scent enveloped me and, I melted into him, the world around us fading away as the kiss deepened, the connection between us growing stronger with each passing second.
His hand slid down my side, warm and deliberate, igniting a trail of heat which left me aching for more. Without breaking the kiss, he guided me backward, and his strong hands steadied me as he lowered me onto the blanket.
I barely had time to catch my breath before he moved over me, his body a perfect, comforting weight against mine.
The soft graze of his fingers sent a ripple of desire through me, and I couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped my lips. My body arched instinctively into his touch, silently pleading for what I already knew was coming.
But James took his time, dragging out every touch, every lingering brush of his lips. His mouth ghosted down my neck, and the warmth of his breath made me tremble beneath him.
Fingers skimmed under my dress, slow and teasing, his touch sparking across my skin like a live wire. His grip tightened, enough to make my stomach clench.
He pulled back, and his dark gaze fixed on mine as his hand ventured lower. When his fingers finally found my center, slick and ready, a strangled moan escaped my lips.
His thumb circled my clit with skillful precision, each movement expertly crafted to drive me higher, while his first finger slid inside, filling me. I clenched around him, every nerve alive, my body responding instantly to his touch.
James watched me intently, his breath heavy, lids half-lowered with desire as he pushed in further, his two fingers now thrusting in a steady rhythm that had my hips moving in time with him.
The pressure built quickly, my thighs trembling as pleasure coiled tight in my core. He pressed his thumb harder against my swollen bundle of nerves, sending shocks of bliss through my entire body.
"Let go, sweetheart," his low voice rumbled in my ear. "Let go for me."
“James…” I barely managed to whisper, my voice catching as the sensation became too much, overwhelming me.
His name was all I could manage as my body tensed, my release crashing over me like a wave, leaving me gasping and shaking beneath him.
But he didn’t stop. He kept his fingers moving, dragging out every last ounce of my orgasm until I was completely undone, slumping against him, spent and breathless.
He slipped an arm around my waist, holding me steady as I trembled, the aftershocks still rippling through me. I reached for him, desperate to give him pleasure, but he caught my hand, bringing it to his lips in a gentle kiss, his breath warm against my skin.
“Not tonight,” he murmured, husky with restrained desire. “I want to take it slow, Emma. We have all the time in the world.”
I hadn’t realized how much pressure I was carrying until his words washed over me, an unexpected rush of relief filling me. Slowing down gave me space to breathe, to find myself back in control again. After everything I had gone through, I loved the sense of control.
So we sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the stars, side by side.
“Do you remember the first night you brought me up here?” I asked, breaking the quiet as I glanced at him.
James turned his head slightly. “Of course I do. The first night we ever brokered a truce. How could I forget?”
“We still argued a lot after,” I said with a small laugh. “I never would have guessed we’d end up here.”
He smiled, a hint of tenderness in his expression. “I was already falling for you back then, you know.”
I blinked, then my eyes widened in surprise. “You’re joking! We fought the whole time. And you were distant as hell!”
He shook his head, his look dark and serious.
“I fought with you because I was fighting my feelings every single day, and I was frustrated. I thought, to be a good teacher, I needed to keep my distance from you, and you made me feel things I didn’t want to.
I was scared of how much I wanted you, of how much I cared. ”
He swallowed hard. “How much I loved you, even then.”
“I think I loved you then, too. And I know I love you now,” I whispered, leaning into him, my heart full.
We stayed like this for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the stars shining brightly above us.
And as the night wore on, I knew this was the beginning of a beautiful joy which would only grow stronger with time.
It was near sunrise by the time we climbed back down the stairs. Without a second thought, I made my way into his bedroom, getting ready to finally find some sleep.
James watched me with a hint of amusement but followed my lead without hesitation. Exactly like in one of those romance novels, I washed up a little in the adjoining bathroom, where James handed me a shirt to sleep in. As I pulled it over my head, his scent drifted over me, warm and familiar.
Climbing into bed beside him, my body was worn out, but my mind was still racing, unwilling to let go of the perfection of our first real date. James opened his arms, and I nuzzled into his neck, savoring the warmth of his embrace.
My fingers began to trail across his chest, tracing the familiar lines of his Skindo tattoo. As my hand moved over the design, I brushed over the raised texture of the marks beneath—the burn scars he had once shown me. I wanted to ask about them but hesitated, not wanting to push my luck.
As if sensing my curiosity, James squeezed my hand. “You can ask, you know,” he murmured.
I glanced up at him, uncertain. “It’s just… I’ve never understood what happened. How did you get them?”
He was silent for a moment, his stare distant as he gathered his thoughts.
When he spoke, his voice was calm, but there was an underlying sadness, tugging at my heart.
“They’re from when I was a kid. The group home I was in…
It wasn’t the best place. The disciplinary actions there were harsh, to say the least.”
He paused, and I could tell this wasn’t something he talked about often, if at all.
“One of the caretakers—she was meaner than others—accidentally dropped a pot of boiling water on my arm. I was lucky it didn’t hit my hand, but my arm…
it was bad. Human doctors couldn’t fix it.
Took a few Healers to repair some of the damage after I was retrieved by Cyclos, but the lacerations never fully healed. ”
My heart clenched as he spoke, the pain of his past so palpable in his words. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I didn’t try to hide them. “James. I’m so sorry.”
He kissed me lovingly, a gesture meant to comfort, but it only made the tears fall harder. “It’s okay, Emma. I’ve had a long time to come to terms with it. It’s a part of who I am now.”
As he spoke, his gaze drifted to my own scars, also decorating my arm. Different ones, born from different memories. He didn’t have to say anything—I knew what he was thinking.
I swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable as I began to speak. “When Logan and his men took me, I really thought I was going to die. These markings… They remind me of the fear, but not of any pain. I never actually felt what they did to me, thanks to the sedation.”
James stiffened beside me, his body tense. I paused, and searched his face for any sign I should stop. He gave me a curt nod, a clear sign to continue. “In a twisted way, the illegal translation they used on me prevented deeper trauma,” I added quietly.
His jaw clenched, the muscles working under his skin as his anger flared. I leaned in and kissed him quickly, then tried to reassure him. “I’m okay,” I murmured.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” he whispered, immense regret clear on his face. I couldn’t stand how his words were heavy with guilt.
I shook my head, then spoke firmly. “You protected me more than anyone ever has, James. You trained me so I could protect myself. The reason I survived any of this is because of you. Don’t ever forget it.”
He sighed, then pulled me even closer, as if trying to shield me from the memories. “Do you still think about it?”
I hesitated for a second before I nodded. “I still have nightmares about Coastal…and sometimes—I know it’s superficial—but I feel less pretty because of the scars.”
I looked away, embarrassed by the admission, but James gently turned my face back toward him, his stare intense and resolute.
“Emma,” he said with quiet conviction, “these marks are a testament to your strength and resilience. They’re battle scars, and they’re one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen on a woman. They don’t make you less—they make you more. Don’t you ever forget that.”
His words washed over me like a soothing balm.
I nodded, too choked up to respond, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.
The warmth of his embrace, combined with the emotional exhaustion of the night, soon lulled me into a wonderful, dreamless sleep—the first peaceful rest I’d had since Coastal.
In his arms, I finally felt safe.