All I Need (Hearts of the South) (14 page)

He waited. He’d opened the door. The next move was hers.

She moistened her lips, and her throat moved with a hard swallow. On a deep inhale, she straightened her shoulders, and she released her shirt hem.

“You were right. I do want you.”

He stilled, a weird fight, flight, or freeze instinct, scared as hell he’d say or do the wrong thing. Desperation glinted in her dark eyes.

“The thing is, I don’t want to want you. I don’t want to want this.” She closed her eyes, her mouth quivering. “It hurts.”

He tried to catch his breath, because suddenly all the oxygen was merely gone. He wrapped his fingers around the doorframe until his knuckles ached with the pressure. “Why are you here, Savannah?”

“Because I’m tired of being buried.” Her voice cracked on the whispered words, and she lifted a hand to cover her eyes, glittering with tears. “Because as much as it hurts to want this, it hurts more to stay away.”

He reached for her wrist and drew her into him. Arms about her, he cradled her close, near enough that he felt the shivery sobs that wracked her. She wrapped her arms about his neck and leaned into him, her face pressed to the curve between his neck and shoulder. Eyes closed, he rested his cheek against her temple and soaked in the sensation of having her in his arms again—soft curves yielding to the harder planes of his body, the clean just-showered scent of her warm skin, the way having her near stopped his heart and electrified his nerves all at the same time.

A slight turn of his head allowed him to nuzzle her cheek, to press a kiss to her temple, to whisper against her ear. “I’ve missed you.”

She cried harder. He flexed his arms, cradling her head in his hands, tilting her face to his.

“Don’t,” he murmured and brushed his mouth over hers. With his thumbs, he smoothed glistening tears from her cheeks. “Don’t cry.”

On a choked laugh that was more of a sob, she shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”

He continued stroking the pads of his thumbs across her cheekbones. “Stay with me.”

For some reason, that renewed her weeping, and he drew her closer, backing them inside. He’d never glimpsed this vulnerability, and Bennett’s assertion that she wasn’t as tough as she appeared beat in his head. Somehow, this openness seemed rooted in a soul-deep weariness that made his chest hurt. He rotated to nudge the door closed with his elbow and turned them toward the bedroom. “Come on.”

She went, leaning into him. With shaking fingers, she brushed more tears away. “This is ridiculous.”

“No.” He stroked his palm over her hair above her nape. “It’s not.”

He really didn’t get why she was crying, but he knew she wasn’t crying over him. Whatever it was, though, it had brought her to him tonight, and he was grateful. He leaned down and tossed his school materials onto the chair in the corner of the room. She’d turned slightly away, a hand over her eyes, trying to get herself together. Behind her, he laid gentle hands on the curve of her bare shoulders and pressed his mouth to the slope between neck and shoulder.

He massaged the tense muscles under his hands and trailed kisses up her neck. “You’re tired.”

Silently, she nodded, and he wrapped a protective arm across her sternum.

“You can rest with me,” he murmured. With his other hand, he hooked her hair behind her ear. Eyes closed, he mapped the line of her neck with his fingertips, then the slope of her shoulder, his thumb playing over her camisole strap. Cheek against her hair, he nuzzled at the curve of her ear. Some of the tension drained from her body, and she relaxed into him. He traced the back of one finger down her arm and back up, and gooseflesh rose in the wake of the easy caress. He stroked the little prickles away, then let his hands trail to her waist. Still rubbing his nose along her ear, he hooked the waistband of her pants and eased them down until they puddled on the floor and she stepped free.

The muscles in his leg protested, but damned if he was going to let her go. He eased to sit on the edge of the bed and brought her onto his lap, his chest to her spine. With an arm draped easily across her waist, he returned to caressing her arm and shoulder with the back of his finger. Her own hands lay loosely against his outer thighs.

He eased her camisole strap to one side, letting it fall down her arm, and pressed his mouth to her shoulder. He traced the top edge of the garment with a fingertip, barely stroking the smooth skin at the swell of her breast. She rewarded him with the quietest of exhales, relaxing further into him.

He wanted her boneless, wanted all the hard edges between them gone.

With that intent in mind, he lowered his mouth to her neck once more, suckling a little, and skimmed a caress across the curve of her breast. He dipped his fingertip into her cleavage, danced a shadowy touch under the edge of her camisole.

Tonight, he was going to be all she needed—soft and easy and slow.

He took his sweet time, simply learning her softness and curves. Every so often, one of those quiet, breathless sighs escaped her, and he touched and stroked and loved until she was melted into him. He circled her knee with two fingertips, then slid them slowly along her inner thigh. Muscles quivered under the feathery contact. He skimmed a fingernail up and down the smooth hem of silken panties, and she drew in a breath. With the index finger of his opposite hand, he circled over the jut of a hardening nipple.

“Oh.” That breathless exclamation greeted him delving his fingers under the silk. She was wet and warm and open, and her head fell against his shoulder. He played and toyed and teased, one hand between her thighs, the other at her breast. Nuzzling her neck, he listened as her breathing became sharp and shallow. She tilted her hips, rocking into his hand.

On a quiet moan, she tightened her hold on his thighs. Under his fingers, her orgasm trembled, and somehow he kept himself from squeezing her against him as it receded.

Holding on to her too tight was the worst thing he could do. She’d come to him, and he had to hold her with the gentlest touch possible. Truly melted into him, draped against his chest, she barely breathed. He tightened his arms for one brief moment and laid his mouth against her temple.

No way was he risking this with words.

* * * * *

Awareness came to Savannah in layers. Strong arms embraced her, and her nose mashed against a warm male throat, the carotid pulse steady against her skin. For a moment, her exhaustion-fogged brain expected for her to open her eyes and find Gates holding her, to find them wrapped up in the bright, sunny bedroom they’d shared in Valdosta.

Only Gates was gone, and the man holding her was very much alive. She kept her eyes closed a moment, not yet ready for the reality of sharing another man’s bed.

What had happened last night, those soft kisses and softer caresses, a wash of fulfillment…that went so far beyond sex without emotion that she wasn’t sure how to process it.

“Quit thinking so hard.” Emmett flexed an arm and tugged her closer. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Against her will, she smiled, her lips moving against his throat.

He tangled his hand in her hair, massaging her scalp.

She opened her eyes, but all she could see was the too-close, blurry line of his chin. “This is weird.”

A noncommittal sound that rumbled under her nose was his only reply.

“I’m serious.” A milder form of the familiar panic tried to stir to life. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You said that last night.” He draped his other hand over her hip and squeezed. “You’ll notice I did know what to do.”

“That is not what I meant.” She wedged her hands between them and tried to ease away.

“Stop.” He kept her close with a ridiculous lack of effort. “Stop pulling away and stop overthinking everything. Just be for now.”

Just be. Seriously? She didn’t have the right angle to elbow him or she would.

He trailed a hand along her side, from hip to the indention of her waist to the curve of her breast and back down again. “You’re not going to relax.”

“I can’t.” She absolutely detested the desperate note in her voice. She knew how crazy all this was, but she couldn’t handle being out of control. Not again.

He tightened his fingers on her hip, then heaved a rough sigh. “All right, you want to know what to do? I’ll tell you. You do today with me. We do today. Then we do tomorrow.”

“That is insane.”

“Not any more insane than ‘hey, let’s be friends and have sex’.” He shifted to rest on his elbow, an ironic twist to his mouth. “That worked real well for us.”

“I don’t—”

He kissed her, opening his mouth to swallow the protest. His tongue tangled with hers, and with that hand at her hip, he urged her closer. The kiss turned teasing, his tongue darting and retreating, and he pressed his thigh between her legs. He pulled her into him and danced his fingers over her labia. The light touch melted her all over so an ache pooled in her lower belly.

“You want today with me.” He whispered the words into her mouth. “You do.”

The hell of it was she did.

“Tell me you do.” He ran one gentle fingertip up and down again. “Say it.”

She couldn’t bring herself to admit it aloud.

“Savannah.” He slipped his fingers into her folds and found the opening to her vagina. She ached for his touch, feeling open and swollen. “Tell me.”

She could barely think, the sensations coiling and building when he delved inside her, the heel of his palm pressing against her clitoris.

“Emmett.” His name fell from her lips on a torn whisper. He’d barely touched her—a couple of kisses, his hand on her, and she was ready to come all over him.

“You want today.” He caught her mouth with his. “With me.”

“I do.” She breathed the admission, and he pressed harder, palm grinding against her clit, fingers curled inside her to press into the front wall of her vagina. Her climax was instantaneous and explosive, and she screamed into his mouth, the sound lost in his deep chuckle. Breathless, she dissolved into his arms, and he laughed against her temple. His half-hard penis brushed her thigh. She lifted a hand to push her tangled hair away from her face and tried to catch her breath.

Relaxed into him, she let a touch drift across the head of his erection. He hissed in a breath, but stilled her hand.

“Not yet. Right now, we’re about what you need. You need today.” He nuzzled her temple. “And you need me. We’ll work it out.”

They’d work it out. She decided not to touch that statement or its implications.

Somewhere on the floor, her phone jangled to life with the theme to
Snow White
. She scrambled for the rectangle, finding it in the interior pocket of her discarded yoga pants.

“You have a princess ring tone?” Emmett sat up, scratching the top of his head.

“No, only for Amy.” She swiped her finger across the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey, just curious, but are they supposed to cry like this?” If someone didn’t know her, they wouldn’t catch the hint of anxiety underlying Amy’s bright voice. Hamilton wailed in the squawking cry of a newborn.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had one.” She leaned back against the headboard.

“Oh, my God, Savannah, this is not the time. I’ve changed her and fed her, and I don’t have a clue what to do next. I read on a blog that adopted infants can be stressed by being separated from their birth mother, and if that’s true, is that why she’s crying? Maybe she’s in pain, and I can’t tell—”

“Amy, she’s not in pain. Trust me. You’d know. And please stay off the Internet. Yes, she may be stressed, but that’s probably true of all newborns.” She yawned. “How long has she been crying?”

“Ten or fifteen minutes, maybe. Since Rob got in the shower. She doesn’t cry when he has her.”

“It’s probably his voice.” Next to her, Emmett settled against his pillow, arms folded behind his head. “They like a deep male voice.”

“He carries her like a football. I can’t do that, Savannah. I’m afraid I’ll drop her.”

“You’re not going to drop her.” As sweet as it could be to watch Amy when her infinite planning went off the rails, Savannah knew when not to push her sister’s buttons. “Relax a little, enjoy her, and I promise you, you’ll figure it out. You realize she’s already stopped, right?”

“Because I sat down to talk to you and put her on my shoulder.”

“There you go then.”

“I really wish you didn’t have to go in to the ER today.”

She smiled at Amy’s small voice. “You will be fine, I promise. Call me if you need me, and I’ll be by this afternoon after my shift. But you won’t need me. You have this.”

“Okay.” A shaky note of confidence imbued her sister’s words. “I’ve got this.”

“Yes, you do. I’ll see you later.”

With the call ended, she dropped the phone on the bed and laughed, face buried in her hands. “Lord help him, I hope Rob knows what he’s in for.”

“You’re a great sister. She’s lucky to have you.”

“It depends on what day of the week it is.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “You’re not hearing us when we’re arguing.”

“So you have plans after work then. What about after that?”