Mine.
Emerson grinds his h*ps down against me, and the delicious weight of him sends a fresh thrill of pleasure ricocheting through my body. I buck against him, reckless, and tear my lips away from his mouth to taste my way along his jaw and along to his ear. My mind is gone, the world is a blur, there’s nothing but the sound of my gasps and the feel of his body bearing down on mine. Solid, strong, overwhelming me. I tease against his earlobe with my tongue, and Emerson lets out an animal groan of pleasure. He grabs my wrists, yanking them up above my head. I gasp, struggling against his grip, but he traps them in place with one hand while the other roves across my chest, plucking and teasing at my ni**les until I can’t help but cry out with pleasure.
Emerson lifts his head to look at me. His eyes are wild with desire, but there’s something more in them too, some dark determination that makes my breath catch in my throat. His hand goes to the waistband of my skirt; he yanks my button fly open, breathing heavily. Then, he crawls slowly down my body, blazing a trail of kisses down my bare skin. Lower, lower…
Oh my God…!
His tongue traces a teasing circle around my belly-button, dipping to lap in the hollow. I’m trapped in anticipation, strung out on the gorgeous scrape of his stubble against my skin and the heat that’s rolling through me, a fire building with every lick and touch to one aching, agonizing point between my thighs. All I want is there, so close, but just as he slips both hands beneath my waistband and prepares to yank it down, one tiny shard of conscience pierces through the haze of desire fogging my mind.
Daniel.
Daniel.
Fuck!
I sit up with a jolt. “I have a boyfriend!” My voice cries out, ragged in the quiet house as I gasp for air.
Emerson freezes. We stare at each other, breathing heavily. I feel my blood course through me, still electric from his touch. He’s gripping my hips, poised above me, not moving.
“I’m sorry,” I babble. “I should have said… But… I’m sorry.”
A strange, shuttered look drops over Emerson’s face. I gulp, suddenly fearful. What does he think of me now? I didn’t invite this, but I sure as hell didn’t put up a fight either.
Slowly, deliberately, Emerson releases me. He climbs off the couch, pulling his shirt back down, and adjusting his jeans.
“You hate me,” I whisper. Regret mingles with desire in my bloodstream, sobering me.
His eyes flash up. A twisted smile curves on his lips. “No,” Emerson says, his tone dry and arch. “But your timing leaves something to be desired.”
“I didn’t…” I stutter. “I couldn’t…” But words are useless. What can I say, to explain the power he has over me, overwhelming, mindless—how one touch could send me hurtling over the edge, in total freefall, not even thinking for a second about the boyfriend I have waiting for me. The man who loves me, and trusts me…
Now Emerson’s touch isn’t blinding me with desire, the cold truth of what I’ve just done comes crashing down over me. I flush with shame and guilt, quickly scrambling up from the couch cushions and yanking my clothes back into place. I fumble with the buttons Emerson just pulled open, burning up with guilt.
How could I do this? How could I be such a terrible girlfriend? To lose my mind and all my loyalty in one reckless swoop—with the one person I swore I’d never do this with again!
“You need to go.” I tell Emerson, shivering. The tension between us in the room is dangerous; I can still feel the blazing trail his tongue left along my stomach. I shake my head, and take a few more steps away, as if distance between us will somehow erase the last ten minutes. “You need to go, now!”
“Whatever you want.” Emerson stares at me, cryptic, then turns to leave.
I cautiously follow him out to the front porch. The night air hits me, cold against my skin. I wrap my arms around myself. My whole body is throbbing, flushed and sensitive, still aching with the release denied. I hug harder.
“I won’t…” I start to say, then stop, to correct. “I can’t see you again. This can never happen, you understand?”
Emerson gives me a curt nod.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, my voice twisting. And I am. Sorry I came back, sorry I dragged up all these old memories, sorry I don’t have the strength or willpower to ever be just friends with this man.
But not sorry you kissed him, a rebellious voice inside my head whispers. Not sorry you got to taste him, one last time.
Emerson gives me one last look, then he slowly climbs down the porch steps and walks away into the night.
Despite everything, I feel an ache watching him go.
But he only makes it halfway across the lawn before he stops, and turns back.
Our eyes meet across the dark. My heart catches, and something shifts in his expression.
“Fuck it,” he swears harshly and strides back towards me. He covers the distance in a few short steps, and I barely have time to think before he grabs me, lifting me up and slamming me back against the doorframe as his lips come crashing down on mine again. I’m reeling, lost to him all over again, but this kiss is different, more than just desire. His mouth consumes me, harsh and devouring, as if he’s trying to brand himself on my very soul.
I surrender. I fall back, helpless under the onslaught, drowning in the dark velvet taste of him, until finally Emerson drags himself back, panting.
“You’re mine.” He growls, his breath hot against my face. My legs give way, and he holds me up, gripping my jaw so I have no choice but to stare up into his eyes. To lose myself in them.