Emery carefully disentangled himself from Sophie and headed to the bathroom to shower. Already naked, he stepped into the stall and turned the hot water on.
His hands shook slightly as he rubbed his sore muscles and let the water work its magic. Shutting his eyes, he struggled against the memories of the moment before the explosion, which ran rampant behind his eyelids. The blaring red digital numbers counting down. The rush of heat and pain as the explosion chased him into the dark water. He sucked in a breath and forced himself to focus. The police had questions and had agreed to meet him at the hospital at four p.m. That gave him two hours.
Dizziness swamped him and his entire body went rigid in an attempt to quell the spinning sensation. It was as though something was stabbing at the base of his spine, sending violent shivers up the length of his back. That sense of a self outside him took hold.
His face, in the mirror, days old stubble. Flickering fluorescent lights painted thick shadows around his eyes. Pain radiated out from his shoulder, an old injury from a bull kicking him. Another day, another day to work until his palms cracked and bled, another day to pray the bank wouldn’t foreclose on his dream…
Emery surged back into himself with a sharp gasp, his chest burned with the lack of oxygen until several deep breaths later. He had to stay in control. These dreams, these…visions, his descent into madness, it had to stop. Everyone he loved was still in danger. The question was, what was he going to do about it?
***
Sophie woke to an empty bed, reaching across the vast expanse of the sheets for Emery. A hint of warmth lingered beneath her palm. Emery’s dented pillow looked lonely. It was the man that should have been next to her that she missed. She sat up and searched the room, hungry for a glimpse of him.
Even though he’d flinched with pain and shouldn’t have exerted himself, he’d made love to her—slowly, sweetly. When she’d protested, telling him to wait until he was better, he’d murmured that he had to touch her, kiss her, be inside her, with such desperation she couldn’t deny him. It was in that moment when he’d slid home inside her, and she’d cushioned him with her body, that she’d come undone. He hadn’t moved at first, only gazed down at her, the entire world shining from his eyes. Her breath had caught in her throat, and she’d ceased to exist outside that embrace, outside him.
All of it was terrifying but enthralling at the same time. Like Alice before the looking glass, she’d marveled at the change in the way she saw the world. She’d chased a white rabbit down an unexpected trail and met the King of Hearts. She was still Sophie, still the same woman, but something inside her had been set free, unleashed from a cold, dark prison. The fire of her passion and the need to love and be loved burst from her without the strict restraint she’d once had.
The sex that had followed Emery’s brush with death had been nothing short of mind-blowing. They’d both collapsed in a tangle of limbs, gleaming with sweat. He’d taken her into his arms, and covered her face and neck with soft, teasing kisses that held so much raw emotion she’d had to rub tears from her cheeks.
Yet neither of them had been brave enough to speak.
I love you.
Three words heavy with consequences. Until she was brave enough to say them, she’d breathe life into them with her kisses, her caresses, and hopefully he’d feel what her heart wanted so desperately to tell him.
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. The faint whisper of water on tile drifted to her ears. Curious and also shy, she slipped out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her body. Holding it tight with one fist above her breasts, she walked toward the bathroom. She eased the door open and padded inside on bare feet. Inside the glass shower stall, Emery had his back to her. His tanned skin was riddled with hundreds of tiny cuts and bruises. He pressed one forearm on the wall, his head resting on his arm as he drew in slow breaths. He looked so broken, so wounded. An invisible fist clenched her heart and squeezed.
She dropped the sheet and reached for the door. She needed to touch him, hold him in her arms. Never in her life had she had someone who belonged to her, someone she could reach out and touch whenever she wished. She’d envied lovers who had such freedoms. To be so open with another person that you could hug them, brush your lips over theirs and link hands. It was a gift often taken for granted. For the first time, she felt brave enough with Emery to be open.
When she laid a hand on his left shoulder, his tension eased and he turned around to face her. Hot water ran in tantalizing rivulets down his well-toned chest and the rippling cords of muscle that formed his abs. Unable to resist, she smoothed her palms over his pectorals. His muscles leapt beneath her touch and his gaze zeroed in on her mouth.
“May I touch you like this, Master Emery?” she asked, almost teasing him, as she continued to stroke him. He curled his hands around the flare of her hips and pulled her deeper into the shower, closer to him.
“You may always touch me, unless I order you not to.” His gruff response and the heavy-lidded gaze he gave her shot her full of desire and fresh hunger.
His words lit a fire in her. She unleashed every decadent thought and fantasy she’d ever had. A man to touch, to kiss, a beautiful body to lay her hands upon, to explore in delight and satisfaction. Not that she would ever be satisfied. Being with Emery was as addictive as any drug. She’d never get enough of him.
He remained still, his hands resting on her hips as she explored him. When she took his length in her hand, stroking and squeezing the impressive erection, he sighed. His head fell back against the shower wall. He was hard as marble yet the skin was silky, and she marveled at the way he felt in her hand. He was nothing like her other lovers. Those had been hasty fumblings in the dark—quick, momentarily satisfying. None of those nights compared to even one minute with Emery, amorous or not.
“Harder, grip me harder!” His voice was a low growl that gave her body goose bumps.
She forced her gaze up to his face, startled by his pained expression. He met her stare and nodded in silent encouragement. Sophie tightened her hand around him and continued to stroke. His fingers dug into her skin. She rocked forward, teased by the water droplets trickling down his neck. She licked the water away to kiss her way up to his mouth. He dropped his head to hers, to give her easier access to his mouth. The kiss was slow, deep, full of heat and tenderness and something she was too afraid to examine closely.
Emery tensed in her palm and jerked away. A wave of embarrassment and disappointment tore through her with devastation. Had she done it wrong? Then she glimpsed the passion in his face as his jaw clenched and he tossed his head back, inhaling a ragged breath. He rotated their bodies, putting her against the tile, and then he turned her to face the shower wall.
“Put your hands on the wall and bend forward,” he instructed in a guttural whisper.
Sophie did as he commanded. The water from the showerhead struck her back, making a waterfall of blissful heat down her ribs and backside. He was behind her, shoving a strong thigh between her knees, kicking her feet apart. He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance and thrust home. She rocked up on her toes at the power of their union and the delicious vulnerability. A moan of need escaped her lips as he withdrew. His hard length dragged against newly awakened nerve endings inside her and she tried to push back against him. He curled the fingers of his right hand around the nape of her neck, holding her in place while his left hand roamed from her breasts to her mound to her thighs where her hips met her legs. The way he held her made her helpless, but she trusted him. When he slammed into her with such force that stars burst behind her closed eyes, she cried out at the sudden unexpected pleasure of the hard penetration.
Emery made a rumbling, purring noise of pleasure as he rode her hard. The intense pleasure between them built into an almost tangible force. Then he slid in a sharp, slow rhythm as though he had all the time in the world to possess her. The feel of their slick bodies meeting, the soft sounds of flesh upon flesh and the heat of the water and the silken hardness of him inside her made her lightheaded. The climax she so desperately needed hovered at the edge of her awareness. His hard thrusts, digging fingers and their shared moans surrounded her, filled her.
“Who do you belong to?” Emery demanded in a husky whisper that bounced off the tile and wove through the spray of water to caress her ears. Sophie’s arousal spiked and her body clenched around him.
“Who?” he rasped again, his own control seeming to shred. He punished her with a deep pumping movement and smacked her bottom. The combination of pleasure with the zing of pain set her spiraling toward the rush of ecstasy that awaited her.
“I belong to you, only you,” she gasped and he sank deep, hard into her hot willing flesh. Her knees buckled under the weight of her climax. She collapsed against the shower wall. Dimly, she was aware of him as he cursed, thrusting once more into her spasming sheath before he joined her in the rush of bliss. His arms locked about her waist, and he held her up, even as he shook around her. He pressed his lips into her neck, nibbling and nuzzling while he held her in the gentle prison of his embrace.
“God, Sophie…God.” He groaned and finally withdrew, turning from her body, and turned her to face him.
