When his cousin coughed, Emery sighed. “Brant, you and I will talk later,” he called over his shoulder. He didn’t miss Brant’s irritation and something darker, but Emery didn’t care. His cousin’s temper needed little provocation. He was constantly unhappy.
Now Emery on the other hand…he was happy. Too many years of guilt and sorrow had rendered his heart incapable of joy. But at that moment, he felt good enough to forget the past, if only for a few hours.
He brushed a kiss against Sophie’s temple as they walked down the hall. She gave a sweet little sigh as they emerged into the light outside.
Chapter 9
THELOCKWOODS HAVE DECLINED TO GRANT INTERVIEWS OR MAKE COMMENTS TO POLICE, ASIDE FROM THEIR PLEA FOR INFORMATION.THIS IS THE SECOND TRAGEDY SUFFERED BY THELOCKWOODS THIS YEAR.INFEBRUARY,RANDLOCKWOOD,ELLIOTLOCKWOOD’S ELDER BROTHER BY TWO YEARS, DIED AFTER A LONG BATTLE WITH PANCREATIC CANCER.RAND LEFT BEHIND ONE SON,BRANTLOCKWOOD, AGE EIGHTEEN.
—New York Times, June 10, 1990
Sophie nibbled on the last of her turkey sandwich before lying back on the thick, red fleece blanket. The sky overhead was a rich cerulean blue that seemed to go on forever, unmarred by clouds. Beside her, Emery was sitting up, long lean legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he talked to Hans about something. She didn’t really pay attention to the conversation, something about a man named Wes, Emery’s friend, and a woman named Corrine. Apparently there was drama there. A lot of drama. But nothing seemed urgent.
The entire afternoon felt like a dream. Sunshine, warmth, the low rumble of male voices. It made her homesick for Kansas. Her father had three brothers and they were always around. She’d spent her entire childhood waking up to the deep reverberation of male voices in the kitchen below. Usually the owners of those voices were gently teasing her mother. It was a happy memory. Nothing had changed since then but at the same time everything had. She could never go back to those days, sleep in her old bed and hear her uncles’ and father’s voices, and enjoy life with the innocence that she’d lost.
She was grown. With her own life, living her dreams. But now, in this moment, with Emery, she was creating new memories. The comfort of that removed nearly all of her determination to remain distant. She rolled onto her side and curled an arm around Emery’s waist the way she used to cuddle her favorite stuffed bear, Mr. Nesbit, when she’d been a child. Emery kept talking, her action not disrupting his conversation for a moment. He laid his arm over hers. The skin-to-skin contact was delicious and soothing at the same time. Her stomach flipped and her heart bounced against her ribs when he laced his fingers through hers, holding her arm to his waist.
Comfort grew inside her, a slow blooming peony that unfurled its petals and stretched in the sun, finally unafraid to let go of itself, for just a few blessed moments. Sleep called to her and she yawned and rubbed her cheek against Emery’s jeans-clad hip. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain she marveled at the level of intimacy he’d gotten her to give him. And thinking of that led to memories of that spanking.
Dear lord, she’d be wicked and disobey him every day to get that punishment. He’d known just how to hit the right spot and rub away the sting, leaving her burning only with insatiable desire. A more shocking thought came to her: she knew the intensity of being with him would only increase. What would it be like to let him remove her clothes, restrain her and take what he wanted? He’d spread her thighs wide, thrust into her hard, mercilessly, exactly like she needed. His fingers would stroke her clit, make her come just before he finally unleashed his own animal needs. She needed him to feel that way, to want that as much as she did.
But that need terrified her. Going there with him, bearing her soul, could ruin her. She’d never been able to do that with another man. She’d vowed to submit to him, wanted to, but knowing it wouldn’t last…when it ended…
Am I strong enough for that?
Sophie had no answer. Only the hint of an ache in her chest.
“You want dessert?” Emery asked, stirring her from the light sleep she’d almost given in to.
“Hmmm?” She made no other reply.
He laughed and patted her bottom. She jumped as her sensitive skin leapt at his touch. Finally she opened her eyes, blinking several times. Emery leaned over her, a strawberry in his hand. He’d cut the green top off and held the fruit to her lips. Sophie opened, letting him feed her. She’d always loved strawberries, and it was delicious. Licking her lips, she savored the sweet juices, then opened her mouth for another. He watched her take each bite, eyes burning with each little nibble she took from his fingers.
In between bites she spoke. “Have you ever readTess of the D’Urbervilles?”
Emery nodded. “Yes, a long time ago. In college, I think. Why?”
She shrugged, but he caught her chin, the action forcing her eyes up to his.
“Why?” he repeated.
She swallowed thickly, a little nervous. “There’s a scene where Tess is seduced by Alec, the antagonist. He feeds her strawberries before he ravishes her.”
“So I’m the villain now?” Emery’s tone frosted slightly, his once warm eyes cooled.
She kicked her lips up into a devious smile. “The word I was hoping you’d focus on wasravish.” She leaned up and nipped his fingers before sucking the juice off them.
I shouldn’t bait him.
He was a tiger prowling the edge of his cage of control and she was pulling him by the tail. She was asking for trouble, but logic failed her and hormones took over.
“You offering?” His own lips parted as he touched her mouth with strawberry flavored fingertips. The rough pad of his thumb made her shiver, and heat sparked through her like a thousand pinpricks of desire. Her entire body—every cell—called out to him, compelling him to take what she was offering.
She struggled to find her voice. “I might be.”
Heat flared in her cheeks. Want and need throbbed between her legs, beating like a drum she had to answer.
It made no sense, her obsession with him. They were as different as could be and she’d never believed opposites attracted each other. She’d especially never been drawn to bad boys, or brooding men. But maybe that was because she’d never looked deeper. Beneath the wicked glint in Emery’s eyes and the layers of his seductive smiles, there was a storm in his heart. One born of passion, loss, pain, and tragedy—all churning together, on the verge of devastating everyone and everything around him. Could she find a way to get into the eye of that storm? Nothing mattered more to her in that instant than finding a way to him, and maybe then she could escape her own nightmares and guilt.
