The heated vessel thumped even harder at her touch, as if it knew she’d gained possession of it. She kept it there while pushing back the slightest bit, creating a sliver of space between their lips.
There, Sloane released a jagged breath, the heat of it grazing him in a pleasing tease. Quietly, helplessly, he breathed her in, and out. In, and out, the anticipation making him want her even more.
At last, she moved in and sandwiched his lower lip in a slow, sensual kiss.
Emmitt mused he could burst into flames from the pleasure alone.
They’d taken their time to build up to this type of kiss. This type of closeness. He was glad that he hadn’t just gone in for some lame make out session the day after they met. Because this—the incredible connection between them—made the passion even stronger. There was more than just a physical desire behind their exchange, and that knowledge made it fulfilling in new and exciting ways.
Already, he could see a possible future with the woman in his arms. One that entailed the house, the kids, and a dog like Lucy too. An inner voice said he was getting carried away, that maybe he should put on the brakes before he chanced getting hurt.
But before he could listen to that voice, a line from Doctor Ross’s book came to mind.In relationships, you can only gain what you’re willing to give. So be bold, take risks, and allow yourself to free fall at high speeds through the great unknown. The journey is exciting, intense, and even scary at times, but once it’s said and done, you’ll find that it was worth the risk.
Emmitt had highlighted that part in blue and reread it more times than he could count. In his experience with Sloane, the notion rang true. For each part of himself he gave to her, she gave it back in full measure. In a sense, he was doing just as the doctor ordered—free falling at high speed into the great unknown; yet something told Emmitt that it would, in fact, be worth the risk.
* * *
Sloane tuned into the heated thump of Emmitt’s heart against her cheek. Strong, steady beats. She compared the constant rhythm to the wild pace from last night while they kissed. This, she thought as she tuned into the rhythm, was the heart of a good man. A man who hadn’t even tried to go further last night. No testing limits with groping hands and pushy expectations. Just kissing. But kissing in a way that had never felt so good. To her, anyway.
Sloane tipped her head back to study his lips. He had a full and glorious mouth. Strong and sensual lips that had kept her wanting his kiss into the wee hours of night.
With Emmitt, she felt safe. Cherished, even. Loved. Sloane could hardly believe she’d uttered those words. Or that she’d even managed the action that would say what she wasn’t sure she could say. But the thing was, she’d felt those words to her very core.
Last night, the idea of losing him had sent her into a panic just moments before he’d arrived. And that was a complexity all its own; Emmitt had swooped in to her rescue at her darkest moment, as if he’d somehow known how much she needed him. As if he’d been needing her as well.
He loved her.
Happiness bloomed and swelled in her chest, filling the hollows, mending the cracks. Making her feel complete, whole, and—once again—at home. Always at home in his arms, in his presence, in his life.
Sloane let her mind drift—from a safe, objective distance—back to the Anna Fielding case. Perhaps the right thing to do was let someone else take over the lead.
A small buzz sounded as an accompanying vibration pulsed directly beneath her arm. Was that Emmitt’s phone or hers?
Slowly, eyes set on Emmitt’s peaceful expression, Sloane slipped a hand beneath her weight, secured the small device, and wriggled it free. She narrowed her eyes at the screen.
Andie:Hey, can you take some lightbulbs over to the cottage for Richard and Ava this morning?
She barely had time to read it when Emmitt began to stir.
Sloane tucked the phone beneath a nearby throw pillow and closed her eyes. On the outside, she was all stillness and peace. On the inside, Sloane’s mind was racing. So there was someone staying in the cottage. And not just anyone—his brother Richard and someone named Ava. Who in the world was Ava and why couldn’t they get theirownlightbulbs?
Her mind raced at record speed as the answer came to her. Because Ava wasn’t Ava, she was Anna, and she and Richard were hiding out in the cottage exactly like Sloane suspected. Her heart broke into a race of its own, trying to keep up with her mind.
Why though? What reason would they have to think Anna needed to hide if she hadn’t done anything wrong? Theyhadto have known, which meant the Duran family wasn’t as innocent or good as they seemed.
Nothing about that statement rang true to her, but all that meant was that Sloane had been deceived.
A hot sting of tears pricked her eyes as the hurt set in. A hurt more aching and deep than she’d felt in years. A moment ago, she was contemplating the most beautiful life spent with Emmitt and his family. Now, she would be forced to disrupt what they had.
After last night’s rain, Sloane should be able to make her way to and from the inn’s cottage without a trace. Being winter as it was, the day turned dark by six o’clock. If she waited until then, Sloane could go by foot.
Tonight, Emmitt and his brothers were taking Lucas to see his first live wrestling event while the ladies planned to treat themselves to pedicures at the spa. When Andie invited Sloane to join them, she’d happily accepted. But it’d take no more than a simple text to say she’d come down with a migraine and wouldn’t make it after all.
Earlier that week, after hearing Betty’s reply about the cottage, Sloane had snapped a picture of the map hanging in The Homestead’s foyer. The large image showed a marked, birds-eye view of the Inn and its grounds. Throughout her career as a P.I, Sloane had snapped hundreds of pictures through cracks in curtains and blinds. It’d be that simple.
The hard part would come once Sloane caught the snapshot Wren was looking for—picture proof that Anna Fielding was still alive. While that evidence might be good news for him, Sloane inwardly prayed she wouldn’t be the one to produce it.
Chapter 16
