We were both quiet again, the weight of what I’d said hanging between us like a lead balloon. Emery’s touch at my waist was lighter now, his brows pinched together. I wondered what he was thinking — not just about me, but about himself, about that day when he tried to take his life.
“Is this the place?” I finally asked, my voice thick with uncertainty. “You told me you were driving across the country because you ‘had to see something,’” I reminded him. “Is this it?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “Well, it’s one of the places, I guess, but it’s not the final stop.”
My stomach rolled, the thoughts I’d been mulling over all day sweeping in on the next breeze to remind me of all the uncertainty I felt when it came to the end of our trip. I let my head fall to the side, cheek on the stones as I traced the edge of the shadows on his face. “When this is all over, this trip… will I ever see you again?”
Emery sucked in a long breath, letting it out slowly, his breath pushing against the steam. “That’s an easy question with a complicated answer.”
“Is it?” I challenged. “Seems like a pretty simple yes or no kind of answer to me.”
He faced me then, his arms moving to wrap around me until my chest was against his, our bodies wet and hot and slick as he molded himself to me. One thigh slipped between my own, brushing against my core, my eyes fluttering shut with the feel of it.
“All I can say right now is that I know where I’m going, but I don’t know what I’ll find when I get there. And until I figure that out, I can’t answer your question,” he said, his voice a whisper on the ocean breeze. “It may not make sense to you, but it’s all I can give. Is it enough?”
I nodded, swallowing down the nerves and latching onto his words. They weren’t a promise for more, but they were an honest plea for understanding, and they were enough.
Emery pressed his forehead to mine, the breaths leaving his chest faster as one hand skated down my back, cupping my ass and lifting me into him. That sensitive part of me rubbed against his thigh and a moan escaped my lips, soft and longing, making him harden against my middle as his hands tightened around me.
“Please, tell me you’re not sore anymore,” he breathed, rolling his hips into me.
“I’m not sore.”
“Thank fuck,” he growled, arms moving until I was cradled against his chest once more. He walked us up out of the tub quickly, the cold air piercing our hot skin like needles, his kiss piercing my heart like a knife. “I want you tonight. All of you.”
My voice was a breath on the breeze. “Take me.”
And with that plea, we were on the road again, driving too fast down the foggy coast back to our hotel.
My back hit the door as soon as it closed behind us, Emery dropping my prosthetic in the corner carefully before his hands pinned me again. They gripped my hips hard, his own grinding against me as I raked my hands through his hair, my lips desperate on his. It was all-encompassing, the way he kissed me, not just with his mouth but with every part of his body. His breaths kissed my neck, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin as I arched into him, his hands gripping harder, arms trapping, moans cutting deep like the sweetest suicide. I was already gone before he’d even really touched me.
Emery ripped the tie loose at the front of my robe, shoving it back off my shoulders and sucking the swell of my breast as soon as it was unveiled. I gasped, head hitting the door before I gripped him harder, biting the hard muscle of his shoulder as he moved his way back up to kiss behind my ear.
“If I go too hard, tell me to stop,” he warned, hips pressing into me against the door so he could free one hand. It hooked under my ass first, gripping hard before sliding down my thigh, snaking up the middle, and one finger entered me quickly and roughly and without mercy.
I cried out, moaning with eyes squeezed shut, legs opening for him. “More.”
“That’s my girl,” he growled, and another finger slid in to join the first, spreading me wider.
His touch wasn’t gentle at first, his fingers thrusting in hard, curling at the tips and working in time with his mouth sucking the skin of my neck. I was frantic, arching into him and away from the door, my hands flying from the cool wood to his shoulders to his hair and back again. I couldn’t get a grip on anything, least of all my composure. I was lost, spiraling down into nothing, burning from the inside out.
But then Emery inhaled a long breath, the air filling his lungs before it touched my lips with his exhale, and he slowed. His fingers worked in a smoother rhythm, his kisses longer and softer. The crease of his brows told me he was fighting against the urge to go faster, harder, and when his touch turned more gentle, I sighed into his mouth.
Being touched by Emery was my new favorite state of being. When his hands were on my thighs, when his lips were on my neck, when his eyes were on my body like figure skaters, looping and gliding from top to bottom, inch over inch. It was an excavation, a slow and purposeful discovery, each and every time.
Slowly and carefully, Emery withdrew his fingers, my body shaking violently at the loss of heat as he picked me up again, carrying me across our room with his mouth fused to mine. My back hit the bed, the cool comforter puffing up around me as he dropped his hands on either side of my head. The longing in his eyes as he stared down at me, admiring for a moment before he lowered his mouth to mine again, it was enough to undo me. It was enough to make me wish to stay in that moment, in that room with him, forever.
He pushed back to standing long enough to make quick work of his own robe, the white fabric falling to the floor at his feet as I traced the lines of his abdomen. Emery was so hard, every inch of him, from the lines on his forehead to the muscles of his thighs. Lean and toned, strong and tall — he was all man.
His eyes were hot on mine as he knelt, kissing his way down my flat stomach. A soft shudder of a breath left my lips and my eyes fluttered closed at the contact, at the feel of his wet lips on my skin. He dragged his tongue up the inside of my thigh, tugging me forward off the edge of the bed just enough for him to maneuver his way under me, and then his mouth was where I ached for him most.
I moaned, hands gripping the comforter as he ran his tongue flat over me before sucking my bud. He gripped my thighs in both hands, spreading me wide as he buried his face in me, and it was all I could do to just keep breathing. I should have felt embarrassed, exposed for him like that, my most sensitive and private parts of my body on full display in ways never seen before. But I only felt desired. I only felt wanted in a way a goddess is wanted by a man, the way freedom is wanted by a prisoner, the way rain is wanted by a drought-ridden crop.
My legs shook on either side of his face, trembling at his touch, and just when my orgasm started to build, Emery pulled back, the sensation leaving me in a rush as every tensed muscle released at once.
“Oh, God,” I breathed, shaking at the loss, and Emery smirked as he towered over me again. Bending forward, he snaked one arm under the arch in my back, lifting and moving me back up the bed until my head hit the pillows and his weight settled between my thighs. For a long moment he watched me again, his hands in my hair, eyes searching mine.
“I don’t deserve to touch you like this,” he whispered, fingers brushing my hair behind one ear.