CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
SAM
Those six words hover between us, magnifying the electricity pulsing through the air. We’re standing close, so close that I can feel her body heat and smell the sweet, fruity scent of her lotion. My hands are aching to touch her. But I don’t.
Lightning lights up the sky outside of the window. Thunder crashes a few seconds after. Raindrops strike the building as if the clouds just opened. It’s a torrential downpour rather than a slow and steady build. Kind of like the way Emerson came crashing into my life, disrupting everything.
She was jealous tonight, thinking I spent the evening with Alexa even though I barely spoke two words to the woman. I saw it all over her face when I entered the room and felt it behind every word she uttered. And she blamed me for making her feel that way. She must’ve allowed her mind to take her places, creating scenarios that never happened. She reverted me to who I was before knowing her. And I was that guy—I don’t deny it. But I’m not him anymore. I don’t want her to see the old me when she looks at me now, to assume I’m behaving the same way. How can she not notice how gone I am for her? How she trumps any woman in the room and even those who aren’t there?
I keep crowding her, but don’t make a move. The ball is in her court.
She only hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching my face, before her mouth crashes into mine. There’s so much want and need behind it that it overwhelms me for a second. But I recover quickly, deepening the kiss. My hand cradles her head to hold her into place as my other grasps her hip. Our kiss isn’t soft or sweet. It’s rough and claiming. I just don’t know if I’m claiming her or if she’s claiming me.
I back her into the window. The panes are cold against my palms when I brace them next to her head, caging her in. She shivers, that damn shirt sliding even lower on her arm. A silver chain gleams in the overhead lights, catching my attention. I slide a finger along it. Her breath hitches.
She lifts it from her neckline shyly, and the bottom appears from where it was hidden beneath the material of her shirt. Connected to the end of the chain is a silver circle with the ancient picture of a man in the center. Around the circumference are the words Saint Jude Thaddeus, Pray for us .
“What’s this?” I ask.
She takes it from me, her thumb rubbing over the surface reverently. “I saw it in a store on the way home tonight. The one over on the corner of Holland and Riverside. Anyway, I thought of you. So, I bought it.” She slides it overhead and places it in my palm.
I stare at the jewelry in my hand, my past crashing into the present as I remember the way it felt to be called a lost cause. I’m unsure of what this means.
“You remember how they used to call you St. Jude?” she asks softly.
I nod. “Patron saint of lost causes.”
“Not really,” she counters. “I did some digging. Jude was one of the original twelve apostles following Jesus around. He’s actually the patron saint of hope and impossible causes. He represents choosing faith when all seems lost.”
I glance up at Emerson. She’s emotional. Her eyes are glossy. That vulnerability she was fighting so hard to hide is shining through so beautifully in this moment. It’s everything that makes her glow. This, right now, is what I was picturing when I said I loved the way she saw me. And this is just one of the reasons I’ve fallen for her.
I kiss her hard, putting everything behind it that I’m unable to say. I slide the necklace into my pocket, sucking on her lower lip before I bite it between my teeth and tug. Desire swirls around us, consuming the air in the room.
Her slender shoulder curves seductively, the nape of her neck calling my lips. I drop them to her skin, smiling against her when her skin pebbles.
She still has no idea what she does to me. How sexy I think she is. How alluring. I could put her in a room full of Alexas, and I’d choose her each and every time. Without hesitation.
Raindrops pound the glass behind Emerson. My gaze drops downward, where her shirt has dipped at the neckline. She’s not wearing a bra, which I discover as the material slips even lower, revealing a perfectly pink nipple. My mouth follows my sight line, and I draw her nub into my mouth, my tongue tracing circles on her skin. I’m instantly hard, and it’s affecting my ability to think straight.
Her golden eyes are on fire when I flip mine up to meet hers.
“No bra,” I say huskily, stating the obvious. “Are you wearing panties?”
I trail my thumb along her leggings, slipping it just beneath the band. Her stomach tightens as her breathing quickens.
“I’m not telling,” she whispers.
“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.”
I slip my hand into her leggings and don’t stop until I’ve discovered her bare. No panties .
She takes a deep inhale when my finger slides across her center to find her hot and wet. I rub along her slit and circle her opening, torturing us both before finally dipping two fingers inside. She tightens around me, reminding me of how good she felt the other night. Like heaven.
Losing patience, I remove my fingers and tug down the elastic band until her leggings lie in a pile on the floor beside us.
“Take this off.” I tug the bottom of her shirt.
She tilts her head with a sexy smile on her beautiful face. “I thought you liked this shirt. Loved it even.”
“Off,” I demand again.
She slips it overhead, and then she’s standing naked in front of me. Her eyes are blazing with lust. She shivers as I look at her. It isn’t cold in the room. She’s turned on.
I drag my gaze over her firm breasts, her waist, the flare of her hips. “I could stare at you all day long.”
I reach down to adjust the erection in my pants as it digs into my zipper. Her attention drops to my groin.
She unbuckles my belt quickly before reaching for the button on my pants, flicking it open and then lowering the zipper. I toss my tie overhead and remove my shirt, ripping it off my body with urgency. She pushes my pants and boxer briefs down my hips, stopping to grip my cock. It jumps in her hand with that first touch. The anticipation of feeling her tight heat as I slip inside of her has me hard as a rock.
I seize one of her nipples in my mouth again and suck hard, palming the other one. Emerson cries out, her fingers twisting into my hair. I twirl my tongue around the hard bud, my jaw brushing along her soft skin. She feels like silk, and I’m starting to love the contrast of her softness to my hardness.
There’s a small table behind me. I turn and swipe my arm across it. Colored pencils and sketch pads go flying to the floor. Emerson squeals when I lift her by the thighs and place her on the wood surface. Her sex is smooth, just like the other night, and glistening with arousal. I part her folds with my thumbs and flatten my tongue as I lean forward to drag along her slit. Her taste is sweet and musky and uniquely Emerson. Her back arches, throwing her gorgeous tits in the air.
She lets out a moan as her thighs fall further apart.
Thunder booms again as the rain roars outside the building. The glass rattles. The lights flicker right before we’re thrust into darkness. I pause from the intrusion. Glancing out the window, I see the electricity is out in all the surrounding buildings.
“Don’t stop,” she demands, tugging on my hair.
I chuckle and dive back in, holding her legs apart when she tries to close them. My tongue roams every inch of her before settling on her clit, circling rhythmically.
My other senses are heightened with my sight gone. My nose is buried in her sex, breathing in her sultry scent. Her skin feels even softer beneath my callous fingertips, and the taste of her honey is on my tongue. The deep moans of pleasure she’s making keep driving me insane as she writhes on the table beneath me. She cries out when I plunge my fingers into her opening and bucks against my face. I pump them while my tongue keeps circling that sensitive bundle of nerves. She tugs harder on my strands. She’s completely unguarded at this moment, unconcerned about anyone or anything. I love her like this.
I can tell she’s close when her thighs tighten around my head. I abruptly pull away.
“No!” she protests. “Don’t stop!”
But there’s no way she’s coming without me inside of her. And bringing her to the edge like this will make the finale even more explosive for her.
“Don’t worry, Doe. That was only the warm-up.”
She can’t see my smirk in the unlit space.
I can barely see the outline of her sensuous body lying on the table, but I can hear her shifting beneath me. And I can feel her wild, frustrated gaze searching through the darkness for my face. I line the tip of my cock up with the heat of her opening and push into her in one hard thrust. She gasps as she molds to my steely flesh. She’s tight, but she’s so wet that I’m able to slide right in.
What I wouldn’t give to be able to watch myself slide into her right now.
I’ve never had sex without a condom before. Oakley and I didn’t take that chance when we were together, and I wasn’t close enough with any of the other women over the years, so the trust was never there. Emerson and I had a conversation recently. I saw her packet of pills on the kitchen counter, and she confessed she’d been on them for years to regulate her periods. She was recently tested after ending her relationship with med-school dude, and I get tested regularly through hockey. So, she gave me the green light. And I’m taking it. But I never knew it would feel like this.
I grasp her hips and drag her body down until her lower half is hanging off the desk. I pull out a bit, sinking right back in, groaning when my balls hit her ass this time. I don’t take it for granted that she’s trusting me to take her bare. And she feels so good that I’m sure I won’t last. I didn’t last long the other night either.
I lean over until our chests are aligned and our breaths are mixing. My tongue traces the outline of her mouth right before I capture her lips. Our tongues dance a slow tango as she tastes herself on my lips. I continue to thrust in and out of her wet heat. I groan when she reaches between us to caress my balls. The tingling increases at the base of my spine.
I can’t get enough of this girl. It seems she feels the same when she snakes her arms around my neck, pulling me into her. Her back arches as she moans.
I smile as I start pumping harder into her. The rhythm jolts her body every time I thrust, sliding her up the table. She’s clawing at my back, and I’m holding her thighs further apart.
“Ahh,” she moans.
I feel her spasming around my cock.
That small thread that I was grasping on to snaps. I explode.
One of my hands drops to the table for support as my neck strains, and a sound erupts from deep inside my chest that I don’t recognize. Sweat beads on my forehead. My heart is beating out of my chest. And all the while, the pleasure extends as Emerson keeps pulsing around me.
Her body finally goes limp. I collapse on top of her, chuckling.
“Fuck,” I gasp out.
“That was …” Her voice dies off as she searches for the right words to describe what just happened.
“I know,” I say, at a loss as well. It just keeps getting better.
She winds her arms around my neck, holding me to her. I kiss along her jaw before landing on her mouth, lingering there for a moment or two. I’m still inside her. I’m not ready to leave yet.
I smooth my hands down her thighs, her skin silky and soft beneath the pads of my fingers. Placing one last kiss on her neck, I rise, and we separate.
“I need a shower,” I say, running a hand through my disheveled hair.
“Want company?” she purrs.
“If it’s you … always.”
I search for my pants in the dark, removing the St. Jude necklace from the pocket. I slide it overhead. The metal feels cool against the hot skin of my chest.
“Let’s go,” I say. I hear her soft footsteps trailing behind me.
We search for candles in the hall closet and in the drawers of the kitchen. The lights pop back on before we’re settled in the bathroom, but we turn them off again, showering by candlelight instead. When we’re clean, we scour the kitchen, finding some spaghetti that Milo left in the fridge and eating it straight from the container. It’s still dark inside, except for the light coming from the refrigerator when we open the door or the flickering of a candle nearby. Emerson is in my T-shirt, and I’m wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and the necklace she bought me.
With our stomachs full, we fall onto my thousand-thread-count sheets together. She lies in the crook of my arm and plays with the necklace in between us, tracing the lines of my chest and abdomen with her fingertips. I tell her all about dinner and Alexa’s mother, Adeline. She tells me about the phone call between her and her sister.
All the tension from earlier has melted away with our confessions. All the walls have been demolished. We laugh, and we kiss. Minutes drift into hours. We make love again. I hold her in my arms afterward, enjoying the feel of her nestled against my body, until we both drift off to sleep.
The entire time, I’m thinking … I never knew what I was missing. This must be what intimacy is .
And I don’t want to ever forget the way I feel right now. For the first time in years, I’m Jude, the patron saint of hope and impossible causes rather than the lost cause I always thought myself to be.