From the Heart: Romance, Mystery and Suspense a collection for everyone (9 page)

Chapter Nineteen

“Eyes looking, Trevor.” Emily gestured her hand to the child-size chair in front of the kid table set up in the new therapy room upstairs, in the larger, fifth bedroom at the far end of the hall.

When Trevor didn’t respond
, but continued to flit around the room barefoot, muttering under his breath some recent line to a Barney cartoon, Emily gently touched his arm and guided him to the chair. “Sit down.” And he did sit, but then began to rock side to side tipping the chair, which fortunately rapped on thick carpeting, cushioning the noise.

Trevor was out of sorts, and had been since his appointment this morning with Jane, the speech and language pathologist, a short curly-haired red head. From the moment she walked in the living room and sat down on the dark leather sofa, Trevor had performed his monkey routine, climbing on the furniture, the chairs, to the floor on all fours and hooting like an elephant, or was it a dog today? She wasn’t sure.

Two others, a man and woman, had accompanied Jane, all part of the diagnostic team to officially diagnose Trevor. One was an intern; a dark haired man with a trimmed beard, which she supposed was to make him appear older, more distinguished, but failed miserably. Instead, he looked like a wet-behind-the-ears twenty-year-old. The other woman was an occupational therapist, scrawny with prematurely gray short-cropped hair. She too was observing. Right after introductions were made and Brad and Emily sat in opposite corners of the living room; it all fell apart. The occupational therapist had accepted the coffee Emily offered and sat quietly, appearing shy and a little nervous, on the couch. Trevor jumped from behind the couch onto her shoulders, and then rolled beside her and tried to crawl onto her lap. Her coffee flew out of her hands, landing on the coffee table, which was covered with pamphlets and papers on autism, now coffee-soaked. The good thing was, at least the mug didn’t break. Emily dashed into the kitchen and grabbed a dishtowel beside the sink, and hurried back to wipe up the puddle now dripping from the table onto the floor. Brad, his hardened face flushed pink, stepped in and yanked Trevor off.

Trevor whined and kicked his heels at Brad. Brad smashed his lips together so tight they formed a fine white line. Emily’s stomach turned into one hard knot as she picked up on Brad’s obvious stress.

Jane perched on the edge of the leather sofa. Her back ramrod straight, she dropped her bag on the floor beside her feet, and rested both hands on her jean-clad knees. “Put Trevor down, he wasn’t harming anyone, and maybe Dad should step out so we can assess him without interference.”

Brad froze and Emily’s mouth fell open
, as she crouched on her knees holding the soggy towel, now dripping on her faded blue jeans. Now, to Brad’s credit, he said nothing. But the fire sparking in his magnetic, stormy eyes said it all to Emily. He was going to blow. Emily struggled to her feet. She needed to say something, anything in his defense.

He looked at her with the same steel hardness he leveled on Jane. “Don’t” And of course her heart ached from his hurtful rebuff. She understood now the boundaries she crossed, he wouldn’t be defended by a woman. He put Trevor down beside Emily, held up both his hands in a show of surrender, and abruptly left through the kitchen, out the back door, slamming it so hard the lights in the kitchen flashed. The feeling of anger trailing behind him filled the air with a noticeable stench setting Emily’s teeth on edge.

Trevor pulled away and bounced back over to the uncomfortable OT, who’d become a magnet for Trevor. His structure had been changed; he didn’t know what was expected of him. Hell, neither did Emily, as she gawked like an awkward schoolgirl at these three gangly professionals. Trevor was a magnet; picking up on everyone’s anxiety. Hers included. And Katy now yanking on Emily’s brown T-shirt, began to whine until Emily picked her up.

The two hours Jane and her lackeys stayed seemed like eight. When they finally left, Emily was so wired; it left her muscles and bones physically weary. Lunch was a pathetic ensemble of build your own sandwiches which Brad never showed up for anyway.

After Trevor woke from his late morning nap, Emily worked on some basic receptive skills with Trevor, but now he stopped rocking and slid off the chair onto the floor, as if he were a limp rag doll. Emily scooped Trevor up and sat him in the chair holding tight to his upper arms not allowing him to slip off. “Awesome job Trevor, you sat! Here, you earned this to play with.” She handed him the tape measure he was so fond of, he yanked it out and let go while it whizzed closed over and over.

The occupational therapist who’d tagged along with Jane as part of the team this morning, insinuated
that following through with Lovaas ABA therapy, the therapy provided by the new consultant, would in fact
harm
Trevor. He needed to be left alone and he’d develop in his own time, naturally, he’d make his own friends as he saw fit. It was a good thing Brad had left.

Emily had been furious and kicked a stuffed animal across the floor after they’d walked out the door. Why couldn’t these industry professionals start working together? When would they get with program and all realize this is about the best outcome for Trevor, all autistic kids—check your egos at the door.

Her head pounded as she watched Trevor, now scooting across the floor on his knees. Today seemed like the saying, “one-step forward and three back.” And where was Brad?

Chapter Twenty

The dinner dishes were washed and put away. Emily scrubbed the kitchen table and counter. The sun dipped below the horizon, lighting the sky a beautiful shade of pink and orange. Emily listened at the bottom of the stairs for any rustling from the kids. Nothing—good, they were fast asleep.

Dinner had been quiet and tense, even though Emily made Brad’s favorite pork chops. For her, it was just a small effort to ease some of the humiliation he’d experienced this morning. He’d only picked at his dinner. After about ten minutes, he’d pushed his plate away and got up from the table without a backward glance, doing something he never did—leave food on his plate.

Walking to the back door, he paused before opening the door, “I have work to do. Thanks for dinner, Em.”

“You’re welcome.” Then he was gone.

Emily stepped outside onto the front porch. The cool night air nipped through the light brown sweater she’d draped over her shoulders. Sitting on the wooden swing, she rocked back and forth. She lifted her chin toward the sound of crunching gravel. Only Brad sounded so confident and surefooted. Emily caught sight of Brad’s outline as he paused right before the steps.

“Nice night, are the kids asleep?”

“Not a peep out of them. It didn’t take them long. Join me.” She motioned to the chair beside her.

He looked straight at the front door. He wants to escape, he’s embarrassed. “Please
, Brad.”

He took off his worn cowboy hat and played with the brim in a way so unlike the confident, in
-control man. “Okay, Em.” He strode toward her. Instead of sitting, he rested his booted foot on the chair right beside her, resting his forearm on his knee, and then brushed his hat against his leg as if knocking out all the dust.

Emily took a deep steady breath, and pulled out the elastic tying her hair back, allowing her brown wavy hair to scoop down over her shoulders. It was kind of romantic. When Emily looked up the moon had cast a circle of light around them. Brad reached out and touched a strand of her hair, rubbing it gently between his thumb and fingers. Then he tilted her chin up. Her breath was stuck somewhere around the hard lump jamming her throat. Her heart pounded; he was so close now. He leaned down, closing the awkward gap between them and captured her lips in a sweet, tender kiss, so light, his breath warm. He slid his hand around the back of her neck to her shoulder
, and lifted her until she stood before him. His hands slid down her back and his arms tightened into an embrace, as he traced her lips with his tongue to gain entrance. With a gasp, she opened her mouth allowing him access. He deepened the kiss and pulled her tighter to him. His hands slid farther down her back and cupped her bottom. A possessive, bold move, his desire pressed hard against her. He dropped his arms and backed away, one step, two steps, breaking off the off-the-charts kiss; out of breath, both of them breathing deeply, as if they’d just run a marathon.

“I’m sorry, Em. I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

She stepped forward reaching up, she touched his cheek. “Please don’t stop.”

He was so tall. Her head barely reached his shoulders. But that didn’t stop her from reaching up and trying to pull his head back down to her, except he wouldn’t bend.

“Are you sure, Em? This is what you want?”

His whiskey-colored eyes looked amber in the moonlight. The words stuck in her throat as though lodged in something thick and gooey. Emily swallowed past the hard lump. Her invitation must have been clear because he threaded his fingers through her hair. Gripping the back of her head as he pulled her to him, reclaiming her mouth like it was his right and she was his woman, a possessive familiarity Emily had never experienced. His deep, intense kiss shed all sense of sanity and turned her knees to putty. Brad must have sensed her slipping, and tightened his arms around her waist, holding her hard against him.

She clutched wildly to his shirt and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Her mind fogged. All she could think about was how great her need for him was—a need stifled for so long; she’d lost all control over the situation. A slight whimper sounded from somewhere deep inside of her. Brad pressed into her, every hard inch of himself. Oh God, how she wanted this, him. There was something about this man, and oh yes, he was very much a man, that left her screaming and rejoicing as his tongue danced with hers. Oh my, could this man kiss. Maybe that was why her mind allowed dark doubts to creep in; asking her how he could really want her. You’re just a phase, a momentary distraction. Shut up, stop thinking so much, she told herself, just enjoy, and don’t start looking for problems.

He broke off the kiss
, and leaned down. Opening her bulky sweater, he placed tender kisses down her neck to the row of tiny brown buttons above her breast. He then trailed his hand over her breast, pressing softly as he traced the tender outline of her nipple through her cotton shirt. He didn’t stop his sweet torture as he cupped and lifted, running his thumb against the underside of her breasts. He pulled away, reaching down, linked her hand in his and guided her into the house, closing and locking the door behind them. He squeezed her hand and looked down on her with such heat and desire in those powerful whiskey colored eyes, pausing with an open question she clearly understood, “Are you sure this is what you want? Tell me now before this goes any further.”

“Yes, I want you.” Her voice was husky and filled with desire.

Without another word, he led her up the stairs. Each creak of each step bumped up the beat of her heart, and it threatened to close off all her natural breathing. She didn’t know how to handle this because with Brad, there was no question; he was in charge. His whole being stated that fact. He was a poster boy for the very definition of a strong alpha male. She’d wondered if men like him hadn’t in fact died off long ago. Now she was so grateful he was here with her, leading her into his room, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Twenty-One

Brad braced his wide, working man hand flat against the door, and just watched her through his heavy lidded gaze, the open question gone. Studying her now was a predatory man, who damn sure wasn’t letting her leave this room, but not in a way that instilled fear in Emily. She felt wanted, special. In this large, stately master bedroom filled with western oil paintings, mahogany furnishings and a large four-poster bed, neatly made with a floral duvet whispering the sensual invitation she longed for.

Hypnotized, Emily faced the bed and stepped closer, touching the soft cotton duvet, absorbing the enormity of this step. Brad’s arm slid around her waist and pulled her back into his intense heat. She couldn’t turn around if she wanted. The top of her head leaned back against his shoulder and she could feel every well-formed muscle in his chest against her back. He gently caressed her shoulder, his rough hand sliding under her shirt, setting her skin on fire. He lifted her long brown hair and held it up, exposing her long silky skin as he applied tender nips with his teeth in between each gentle kiss down the side of her neck. Emily tilted her head back, a gift to allow him more access.

He tucked her hair over her other shoulder, and then trailed the tips of his fingers around the outline of her breasts while unbuttoning her shirt slowly and skillfully, one button at a time, with his other hand. She was weak from the hardness of him pressing into her from behind. It was so erotic, with his height and strength. The heightened passion left her anticipating, exposed and at the same time, feeling safe. He didn’t pause or fumble his way when opening her shirt and pulling up her bra to expose her breasts, so smoothly, as if he’d done this a thousand times. He then guided her down a sensual trail, an easy tug here and carefree twist there, massaging her nipple with his thumb, first one, and then the other. She reveled in his warm breath on her neck and shoulders, followed by a teasing path his tongue traveled over her exposed shoulder. He was driving her mad and she pulled at the arm anchored around her waist. But she couldn’t budge him or make him go faster. He decided what to do and set the pace, which was so like him. He unsnapped her jeans and pulled the zipper down, creating such painful pleasure by inching his hand down through her feminine curls, rubbing her, claiming the prize when he slipped a finger inside of her. She heard herself moan, and felt herself spiral up and she lost any semblance of control as he began to move and stroke, in and out. She clutched his arm, lost in an intense burning desire, wanting nothing more than for him to bury himself in her, hard and deep. “Please. I need you inside me. Now, please, Brad.” Shameless, she begged, breathless, tossing her head side to side against his chest.

She felt the soft chuckle against the back of her neck. “Patience, Em, just enjoy.”

He slipped off her shirt and bra and finally turned her to face him. She reached up to undo the buttons on his shirt. But her fingers were clumsy and trembled with need. He stopped her by covering her hands with his, as she stood before him naked to the waist. Her breasts displayed and ready for his enjoyment; even after nursing Katy, her breasts remained firm and a proud sumptuous handful.

Brad stepped back, his eyes took on a lazy drunken hue and he undid his buttons, pulled off his shirt, dumping it in a heap on the floor. His chest and shoulders were even better to look at naked than clothed. Reminiscent of a Greek statue: solid
pecs, six-pack abs with light brown chest hair curling a path down to his navel, before disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. Could it get any better? No way. At least Emily couldn’t imagine how. Brad lifted her chin with his finger to meet the wide smile of his Cheshire grin.

“Soon.”

He reached his hand around to the back of her head and claimed her mouth once again. Deeper this time as his tongue mated with hers. He lifted her leg up over his hip, anchoring her as he pulled her to him and rubbed against her, long, thick and hard pressing into her. She reached for him fumbling with the buttons on his jeans, as he strained against the tight stretched material.

Brad lowered her leg
, and unfastened his jeans. All the while rubbing his other hand up her thigh, gently squeezing all the way, up to where it joined in the center.

He lowered her onto the floral duvet. Standing over her, he hurried to divest her of her sneakers and socks, pulling off jeans and underwear in one swift motion. She now lay naked before him. She felt the heat of his eyes penetrate every inch of her. He was studying her slim belly, the few stretch marks, the firm thighs, and dark curls at her core. It was instinctive for her to spread her legs open. She wanted him now. But when he moved toward her, he grasped her knees and spread them wide, holding her secure so she couldn’t move. He bent down and kissed her where she opened. The sear and jolt electrified her. Emily threw her hand up over her mouth
, biting down on the meaty flesh to stifle the cry that erupted. He parted her with his fingers and she felt his tongue slide inside.

“Oh my God.” Did she whisper or scream, she didn’t know. Brad was a man in control. She was completely at his mercy. A place she’d never experienced with a man before, losing control as if she’d slipped over the edge on a wild ride at the fair. She reached out and grasped his short brown hair. Operating on pure instinct, she moved her hips, wanting him now buried deep and hard inside of her. He held her down and it hit her hard and explosively. Rippling through her, a burning intensity that spun and tilted her until she thought she’d come apart. Stifling her scream, she tossed her head from side to side.

She heard it again, in a far distant place, a different cry, not hers. Emily drifted in between bits and pieces of conscious reality away from the heavenly abyss where she floated. Awareness chilled her shaking, limp thighs; she was by no means sated, she needed him.

Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath and she heard it again. A crying child—Katy. Brad released her, swearing under his breath as he backed away, running his fingers though his hair. His desire sparked a bitter fire in his eyes. It’d see no relief.

Emily wanted to curse and cry for the moment lost. But her child came first—before her own needs. She rolled and slipped off the bed on shaky legs. She pulled on her shirt and stepped into her jeans. She lowered her eyes to pale blue carpet. Reality could be cruel, like a splash of icy water, uncertain. What now? She held her shirt closed as she hurried to the door, yanked it open, and hustled down the hall. Katy sat in the middle of her twin bed, rubbing her eyes, clutching her blue blanket and whimpering. Not a sound from Trevor; however, if she didn’t quiet Katy quickly, he’d soon be awake too, and that wouldn’t be good. Emily gathered Katy into her arms and kissed away her tears, lifting her up with her blanket and cradled her as she tiptoed across the hall to her room. “Shh, baby girl. Mama’s got you, shh.”

Katy rested her head on Emily’s shoulder. She grasped Emily’s open shirt with her tiny fists as her sobbing subsided. Emily walked in a circle and turned to the door. Brad leaned in dressed once again. The expression on his face was odd. Almost strange, one she’d never seen before.

“Is she okay?” His voice was gruff, but full of concern.

She whispered, “Yes. I think she just had a bad dream, she should go right back to sleep.” He said nothing, and he didn’t move. “You’re a good mother, Em. Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Her stomach ached with that awful empty yearning. Tonight with Brad was over now. She craved his touch, but she couldn’t will him back, as she gazed down at her little girl. The heavy lump in her throat hurt. In the darkness, she stood alone, listening to the soft click of his door. Emily closed her eyes tight, mourning her loss as she hummed softly, until Katy’s breathing evened out and she knew she’d fallen back to sleep.

Instead of putting Katy back in her own bed, Emily tucked her in her bed, watching her peaceful angelic face. Emily slid off her shirt and realized she’d left her bra, underwear, socks, shoes, and sweater strewn on Brad’s bedroom floor. Emily winced when cold reality sank in; Brad may’ve come to his senses. First thing tomorrow, she’d retrieve her things in a walk of shame.