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 nowthrusting 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.”
