Prince Charming Can Wait (Ever After) (10 page)

Her words were starkly honest, and they went right to his heart, opening up a wound that had been festering inside him for decades. He had no words to reply, no sentences to express, no ability to articulate how her words had made him feel.

So, he told her the only way he could.

With a kiss.

Harlan's kiss was tender beyond words, a kiss that a hardened man like him should never be able to deliver. It dove straight past Emma's fears and her worries, shredded her shields, and softened the razor-sharp edges that had protected her heart for so long.

He paused in the kiss, as if offering the chance to end it and pull away, but she didn't want to. She wanted another moment with him, with the way he made her feel. It was safe with him because he was leaving. She could drop all her guards, tumble into his arms, and succumb to his magic. She would never have to fear that he would take advantage of her or use her need for him to chisel away at her foundation and tear her away from her life and who she was.

Harlan's kiss was a breath of restoration in her life, a reassurance that she was still a woman. It showed her that fire could burn in her and sustain her when she woke up in the morning with battles to fight. A one-night stand for a woman who had slept with only one man before her husband. Could she do it? Did he even want to? Or was she imagining it? What man would want her? She knew she was—

"Let's go inside." Harlan's voice was a whisper against her mouth, a desperate wish swallowed up by a kiss that had turned deeper and more urgent. His hand went to the back of her hair, but he quickly moved it to her lower back before she could tense, pulling her against him as he deepened the kiss.

Intense need and longing rushed through her, and she almost said yes. But how could she? Marrying him was one thing, but to surrender herself to him so completely, to make herself vulnerable to him—

He unsnapped her seatbelt with a click, and with one swift move dragged her across the bench seat onto his lap. Excitement and desire rushed through her as she sank down onto him, the bulge of his jeans digging into her inner thigh. He wanted her? Just like that? In the front seat of a car? For no reason? Raw, untamed need built inside her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, taking over the kiss, unable to contain her own need for what he gave her.

With a soft growl, he fisted her hair, only to let go with a muttered apology the moment he did it. "I keep forgetting," he said, breathing soft kisses across her forehead and her eyelids. "I will never let myself hurt you," he said, "but I know you don't know that."

Then, before she could respond, she heard the click of the car door opening. Still kissing her, he stepped out. He took her with him, anchoring her thighs around his hips, one arm secured around her waist as he kicked the door shut.

His body was hard and lean against hers as his boots thudded up the steps of her back porch. His kisses were a relentless assault that seemed to dizzy her senses as he opened the door that she never locked. He shoved it shut behind them, and the darkness of her sanctuary buzzed with electricity that had never been present before. "Where's your room?" he asked between kisses.

"Lakeside," she whispered, the word coming out before she'd even made the decision to tell him. But when his arms tightened around her and his kiss grew fiercer, she knew that she'd made the decision several minutes ago, when she'd chosen not to leap out of his truck and run for safety when he'd pulled up in front of her house.

Harlan made her feel alive. He made her feel like a woman. He gave her hope that her heart could start beating again someday. He could offer her so little, only one night and then he would be gone forever, but that was exactly what she needed: a gift of life with none of the terrifying repercussions of a long-term connection.

She counted his steps and knew the moment he'd crossed the threshold into her bedroom, into her world that had never been invaded by a man, and she'd thought never would be. But there was no fear as he crossed the small room, as he eased her onto the double bed that was barely bigger than a twin.

Emma propped herself up on her elbows as Harlan stripped off his shirt. His body was chiseled with muscle, but there were also dark bruises, as if someone had beaten him badly.

A cold chill ripped across her and she sat up, palming one of the large ones on his left side. "What happened?"

But Harlan didn't answer. He just went still and closed his eyes, setting his hand over hers. He breathed deeply, as if inhaling the moment into his very soul. "Kiss it," he said quietly.

Her heart tightened at the request, and she bent her head, lightly pressing her lips to the darkened flesh. His hand eased over her back as she did it, a touch so light it was as if he were trying to memorize the curve of her body. "So beautiful," he whispered.

She looked up as he knelt before her, taking her face into his hands. "You are my angel," he said.

"I'm not an angel. I'm a mess." She didn't want to pretend to be something she wasn't. She didn't want to be the beautiful woman who looked good in an expensive dress. She wanted Harlan to see her as flawed, imperfect, and grungy. If he saw her that way and still wanted to make love to her, then she would know that the connection she felt to him wasn't one-sided.

"I know you're a mess. It makes you real and compelling." Suddenly, his kiss grew more heated, igniting an answering desire inside her. He shoved her back on the bed as he moved over her, ripping at his belt and tearing his jeans over his hips. His boots hit the floor with a thud, and then he was on top of her, more than six feet of male, pinning her to the bed as he consumed her with kisses more dangerous than she could even conceive of.

"I need you naked." His words sent a shiver of anticipation through Emma, but when he gripped her shirt and pulled it over her head, it became more than anticipation. It became wild, desperate desire. She fumbled with her bra straps, frantic to get it off as Harlan unfastened her shorts and tugged them over her hips, sliding her embarrassingly white granny panties off at the same time. As he stripped her bare, he followed the path of her shorts with searing kisses from her navel downwards, blazing a trail of rippling passion that seemed to burn right through her flesh.

She barely heard the sound of her shorts landing against the far wall as his mouth descended upon her core, showering kisses that made her body twist and writhe. His hands palmed her hips, holding her at his mercy while he bit, licked, and teased her. Intense desire rippled down her legs and up her spine, pooled in her belly, and burned in her veins. Her fingers tangled in his thick hair as she tugged at him, desperate for more. "Make love to me, Harlan."

He looked up, his whiskered face lit by the first rays of dawn. His dark eyes were blazing with desire, with lust so intense that it made her tremble. There was no soft man looking at her. He was a warrior, a man borne of such primal instincts that her whole body clenched in response. "Oh, I will, sweetheart. I will." Then he slipped his finger inside her, and she gasped, her body almost melting down at the invasion. Everything he did felt so right, as if he knew her body intimately and had spent a lifetime memorizing her.

It had never been like that before. Not once. Never had her body come to life at a man's hands. Never had she wanted to surrender to anyone. But she did now. She wanted to be at Harlan's mercy, to have him show her what it was like to turn herself over to him and entrust him with everything.

His fingers still igniting new fires within her, he kissed his way back up her body, nibbling along her ribs, laving her nipples, kissing her collarbone, and then invading her mouth. His kiss was raw sex now, deep, pulsating ownership that exploded through her as he moved over her, his knee thrust between hers to make space for him.

"Now," he said against her mouth, his erection pressing against her body, the tip of it already demanding her body accommodate him. "Now, I will make love to my bride." Then he thrust, sliding deep inside her with one effortless move.

She gasped as he filled her, stunned by how right it felt, how easily they fit together. "It didn't hurt," she whispered, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

Harlan swore under his breath, as he broke the kiss, pulling back enough to look at her. "I wish I could have been your first," he said. "You don't deserve your past." Then he thrust again, holding her gaze as he slid into her.

Again and again he drove deep, binding them more closely with each stroke. She clung to him, riveted by the intensity of his stare, unwilling to close her eyes and cut herself off from him. She needed to see his face, to know the man she was with, that she had given herself to.

He seemed to feel the same, his eyes darkening as the intensity of their lovemaking rose, as their bodies bucked and twisted, screaming for completion as he drove them to the edge of pleasure and pain and need—

The orgasm exploded through her and she screamed as it took her. Harlan caught her scream with a kiss, his body bucking against hers as he gave himself over to her, their bodies arching and glistening as the climax thrust them over that precipice and tumbled them mercilessly into the roiling sea below.

Emma awoke to the sound of a Jet Ski spraying past her cabin. Groaning, she pulled the pillow over her head, so exhausted she could barely surface from sleep. "Go away," she muttered, rolling onto her side. Something sharp jabbed her side, and she yelped, sitting up.

In her bed, tangled in the sheets, was a sprig from a rose bush, with three small buds on it. She recognized the pale yellow instantly. It was from the bush outside her bedroom. For a moment, she stared at it in confusion, trying to figure out how a rose got into her bed. Then, the memories of the night came back to her, and she turned around, scanning her room.

Harlan wasn't there. "Harlan?" She leapt out of bed and hurried out into the main part of the house. He wasn't in the living room and kitchen area. With a sinking feeling, she looked out her living room window and saw that her driveway was empty. His truck was gone.

The clock on her oven said it was ten fifteen. Harlan had left town more than two hours ago.

At first, the most agonizing sense of loss assailed her, so powerful that she sank down on the couch, her arms wrapped around her stomach. He was gone. She would never see him again. Ever.

Tears bit at her, and she lifted her chin, steeling herself against them. No tears. No tears.
No tears.
She didn't want to cry. She was tired of crying. The deal with Harlan wasn't supposed to bring tears. It was supposed to bring empowerment and liberation, right? But even as she thought it, Chloe's words echoed through her mind, that a heart could break only so many times before there was nothing left.

Caring hurt. Caring was dangerous.

Resolutely, she stood up, forcing her shoulders back as she walked across the old pine floors to her bedroom. But when she reached the door and saw the roses nestled in the off-white sheets, she almost wanted to cry again. Her roses were in full bloom, with plenty of beautiful blossoms to select. But he hadn't given her those roses. Instead, he'd chosen buds for her.

Rose buds, complete with thorns.

Emma padded softly across the beautiful hand-woven carpet she'd found at a garage sale and sank down on the bed. Propped up on the nightstand beside her birch tree lamp was their marriage certificate. Harlan Roger Shea and Emma Elizabeth Larson. She had herself a husband now.

She picked up the sprig of flowers, and as she did, a slow smile began to build in her heart. Preston had married her with a five hundred dollar bouquet. Harlan had married her with a dog-eaten veil, tissues in her bra, and a hair scrunchie around her leg. He'd given her rose buds, a night of unbelievable passion, and a husband. And then, he had left her so she could live her life.

Harlan had given her a chance for what she wanted most of all: safety. Now that she was married, no other man could touch her. He gave her protection at the same time he gave her space. And...he gave her the chance to fight for Mattie. Her heart resonating with hope for the first time in a very long while, Emma grabbed her phone off the nightstand and dialed. Chloe answered on the third ring. "Hi, Emma. What's up?"

"I got married."

There was silence. "What? To who?"

"A man from my hometown that I've known for years." Emma looked at the marriage certificate, and knew that she had to make it sound good enough for the court. The deception of true love and a solid marriage began with Chloe. "He's a good man. He accepts me as I am." She couldn't say he loved her, and she wouldn't even want to, but it felt good to know that he'd seen her crying and it hadn't fazed him.

More silence. "I thought you were never going to get married again."

"He's different." And he was. Darker. Haunted. And gone. "I've known him for a long time."

"You got divorced
two days ago
, Emma. First, you want to adopt Mattie, and then you get married? Aren't you at all worried that you're overreacting?"

"No." Emma gripped the phone. "You know how scared I am of marriage, men, and dating, all of it. The fact that I married him even though I'm terrified should tell you something about how I feel about him."

Chloe was quiet for another minute, and then she sighed. "Okay, Emma, you have a point, but I think it's a little weird that you're married to some guy I've never heard of.
Have
I heard of him? What's his name?"

"Harlan Shea. He's the brother of my friend Astrid."

"The one who has been gone for a year?"

"Yes."

Understanding filled Chloe's voice. "That's why he's safe. Because he'd never be around. How long until he leaves for his next trip?"

Emma decided it was time to change the subject. Apparently, having a social worker for a friend meant it was too hard to keep secrets. "You said yesterday that I had no chance to adopt Mattie as a single woman. What about as a married couple?"