Page 23 of The Gilded Cuff
“Well, aren’t you a wet dream.” He couldn’t resist teasing.
“Ha, ha,” she muttered.
“Come on, I’ve drawn a hot bath for you.” He helped her stand and walked with her to the door.
“Undress and get in. I’ll be back in a moment.” He’d let her undress alone, but he’d keep her company while she bathed. It was time for her to learn that as part of their bargain she had to give herself up to him, even if he just required her companionship.
While he waited to hear sounds of splashing water, he retrieved one of his other t-shirts. She could wear this tonight; no boxers. He wasn’t entirely a gentleman; she made him want to be bad, so bad. He smiled. She’d fall asleep getting used to him, his scent, his clothes. He wouldn’t have her body tonight, but clothing her soothed some of that possessive need. She was driving him wild with it. Every breath, every look, every little sigh she made even when he didn’t touch her, was a devastation to his control. He could practically feel it fraying. He wanted her on her stomach beneath him, creamy skinned bottom in the air, legs spread for him to take her from behind…
Christ…He’d never get rid of this perpetual hard-on if he kept letting his imagination get the better of him.
The faint sounds of water lapping against porcelain and her soft little moan of pure relief told him she’d gotten in the tub. Emery laid the shirt on the bed and strolled back into his bathroom. Sophie lay chin deep in bubbles, cheek resting against the porcelain tub’s edge, her long dark brown lashes fanned out over her cheeks. Not moving.
“Sophie!” She didn’t stir. He put his hand to her throat, his fingers seeking a pulse. It was strong. She sighed and leaned into his touch, asleep. No doubt she was worn out. She’d fallen asleep fully naked with him in the next room. As much as she acted like she didn’t fully trust him, on some subconscious level she must. A warmth blossomed in the center of his chest, the feeling oddly fuzzy, like fleece wrapped around his heart and lungs. What a strange sensation. One he hadn’t felt in years.
***
Bliss. Sweet, wondrous bliss. Sophie purred as strong hands caressed her arms and shoulders. Those same hands moved up and down her legs, rubbing something soft and silky against her skin.
What a lovely dream! Unable to resist, she curled her toes and shifted her legs toward where it felt like the hands were coming from. The touch felt so good. Touching had never been good before, but it was heavenly now. The few men she’d dated before had never treated her with such sensual tenderness. She could spend the next century letting these hands strum her senses to life and lull her into dreams at the same time.
I’ve been missing this. This is what my friends must feel when their men hold them close. I would kill to have this, keep this feeling forever.
She rubbed her cheek against a hot, slowly moving surface. It smelled so good, like rich spices and musk. Sophie pressed her lips to the surface and flicked her tongue out, tasting delicious skin.
“Greedy little kitten,” a rough voice rumbled—so hot, so dark it made her thighs clench together.
Greedy? He had no idea.
She froze. Her sense of self returned enough to realize she’d been kissing Emery’s chest. She opened her eyes and tensed as she realized she was lying on a bed, wearing just a t-shirt, and Emery was beside her, hands stroking her body over the cotton fabric.
“What?” It was the only word she could get out. When she struggled to pull back, to put precious distance between them, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“No, no, Sophie,” he said firmly as though she were a child. “I want you close, to feel you’re safe and well.” He cupped her chin and raised her face. “Can you forgive me for…throwing you out? I wasn’t myself.”
For a long moment she couldn’t speak. He’d had some sort of reaction, an emotional one that had made him unable to recognize her, and he’d cast her out of his house into the dark during a storm. He hadn’t threatened her, not really; but there was an undeniable level of danger associated with his presence that she hadn’t known she’d have to face. Was finding the answers she looked for worth the risk? There was only one answer.
“Yes, I forgive you.”
The darkness formed an ever present shadow to the pain lingering behind the warmth of his eyes. She knew it so well. It was there in the mirror every day when she woke and faced the day. If she could forgive him, why couldn’t she forgive herself? If only she’d been quicker to scream for help when the man had grabbed Rachel on the playground. If only she’d been able to memorize the numbers on the license plate of the truck. If only…
Emery paused, his lips parted as though he wanted to say more, but he seemed to struggle to find the words to express himself. “Sophie…I…” He shut his eyes tight and then opened them.
She was lost in the hazel-honey world she found there.
“What?” she pressed.
“I want so badly to make you mine, but I don’t trust myself not to have another lapse. They happen sometimes. Usually they fade out and I’m okay. Normally I’m alone, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. With you here, I’m terrified I’m going to hurt you.”
“But you’ve been with other women…” She let the words fall between them.
“Yes. But I’ve never brought them home. I’ve kept my activities confined to the club. I never seem to lose myself there. But here…”
“Shh.” Sophie placed a finger on his lips, warmed to the very core of her being by his worry. “You didn’t hurt me, and I’ll know to leave you be next time. So don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. I didn’t exactly help you. I sort of slapped you. ”
“That explains why my face hurts,” he laughed softly, but the tone was more melancholy than merry.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get you to snap out of it. I want to help you,” she pleaded.
