Page 83 of Take Hold of Me

“Let it play.”

I guess some themes are universal.

Retuning to my spot next to him, I undo his tie and start to ease the buttons from their holes. When his shirt is opened from his waistband upward, I slide my fingers underneath the white dress shirt. They gravitate to his sister’s dog tags, and my fingers play with them.

His head falls back on the sofa. Emboldened, I pull the material of his shirt up and out of his dress slacks and finish opening it. Wills made an effort for his father. Swallowing my anger on his behalf, I make quick work of his belt, slipping it through the loops and letting it drop to the floor with a clunk. When my fingers land on the button at the top of his pants, above his impressive bulge, he places his hand over mine.

“Wait.”

My eyes search his, silently asking what he needs from me. Offering all of myself to him.

“Stand up.” I scramble to my feet. “Turn around.” I present my back to him.

The sofa rustles as he gets to his feet, but I do not turn my head. Another sexy French song plays as he unzips the back of my dress, which falls to my feet. “You looked so fucking hot at the party in this dress. I was so proud you were on my arm, even if that meant we had to be in my parents’ house. But it wasn’t just how you were packaged. It’s who you are in here.”

He comes around and stands in front of me and places his hand over my heart. “I’ve never met anyone as sweet, supportive and positive as you are, Emilie. Never change. Don’t let me change you into a hard person, like me.”

I open my mouth to tell him how wrong he is, but his fingers land on my lips. “Shhh.” He steps back and rakes me from head to toe, his eyes ending at my Jimmy Choo slingbacks. “Off.”

While I make quick work of my shoes, he shrugs out of the dress shirt and unzips his pants. My mouth waters at how sexy he is. And so in charge. Without another word, his arms come around my body and I am stripped of my bra and panties. He steps back, his index finger doing a “come here” motion. I follow him as he walks backward toward my bedroom.

He stops. I stop. He takes two steps to me and kisses me so that the only point of contact between our bodies is our lips. His hand lands in my hair, scattering bobby pins in all directions. When my hair is loose, his fingers go through it and he pulls me into his body, his lips crashing down on mine.

“Je t’aime.” The words slip out of my mouth. I need him to know how I feel about him. I repeat in English. “I love you.” I say them in Portuguese and Spanish, just to be sure he knows I mean it. I rain kisses all over his face.

He shakes his head. “Oh, Ems, you can’t.” Yet he crushes my body to his.

Sometime later, we fall into my bed. Wills pulls the sheet over us and wraps me in his arms. I tangle my legs with his and lay my cheek over his Gemini tattoo. He never talks about his sister, the one person in his family he holds any affection for. “I saw a photo of your sister at your parents’ house. She looked like you.” I trace my finger down his nose. “Tell me a bedtime story about her.”

His hand stills in my hair for a moment, then continues stroking. “When we were in middle school, I got my hands on a copy of ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street,’ a horror flick. After our parents went to bed, I snuck into Three’s room and we watched it together. Scared ourselves to death.”

While he is talking, I interlace my fingers with his. “Then what happened?”

“The movie was about a serial killer that murdered people in their dreams, which made them die in reality. Three slept with me for a week afterwards. I never admitted it to her, but I liked having her there.” A chuckle rumbles from his throat.

“You had to keep your place as her older brother.”

Wills kisses my shoulder. “Yeah.” He goes on to share two more stories about his twin. “Thank you.”

I lift my head, keeping my chin on his chest. “For what?”

He tucks my hair behind my ear. “For letting me talk about my sister. It feels good to remember the fun times we had.”

“I love hearing about when you were younger.” I cannot stifle my yawn. “And that you got scared of a movie.”

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. And now it’s time for us to get some shut eye.” Our lips meet in a gentle kiss. “Good night, Angel.”

Even though he did not say the words, I know he loves me. Still sprawled against him, my eyes drift shut.

Until I am jarred awake by Wills tossing me to the side of the bed. He cries out, his arms and legs thrashing.Not again.

“Wills. Wake up.” I hold my breath. His eyes pop open, darting around the dark room. When they land on me, I say softly, “You had another nightmare.”

He runs his hands through his hair. “Huh? Sorry.” He blinks awake and gets out of bed with sluggish movements. Putting his dress slacks back on, he silently pads out of my bedroom without looking back. The French doors open and shut.

This cannot continue—Wills needs to discuss everything he is carrying inside. Sighing, I understand deep down that am not qualified to help him. I grab a robe and pad onto the patio, taking a seat next to him on the lounger.

“I really think you should talk to a professional about your nightmares. There is nothing wrong with doing that.” When he does not respond, I continue, “I told you I saw someone. I can give you her—.”

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