Page 49 of The Gilded Cuff
Beautiful and bittersweet.
***
His world was reduced to one single action. A kiss. Who was this woman who plucked his heart from his chest? He was a dominant man and should be in charge. Yet she stripped him of years’ worth of armor. Once more he was naked before her, telling her his every secret, his shames, his failings. And his dear, sweet Sophie had told him her own secret.
Rachel.
Her confession forced him to admit a disheartening truth.
We do blame ourselves for the past. When you loved someone you signed on for the worst moments, the darkest hours. Some battles were obvious. Soldiers went to war on battlefields, giving their lives for their friends. There were other struggles where people were just as brave, though more quiet in their suffering. Mothers who held sick children in cancer wards, parents gazing at the empty bed where their child should be, or a little girl on the playground, watching a gray van drive away, leaving only a black cloud of pollution behind, as her friend was stolen from her.
It was all the same in the end. Some lives were snuffed out too soon, but many of those lives had been filled with love, surrounded with those who stayed and fought to support them till the bitter end. It was those survivors who were faced with the hardest battles. They had to forge ahead without their loved ones and exist with the pain of loss.
Shame burned through him like a roaring fire, searing his insides. He’d hidden from the people who cared about him. His parents hadn’t been able to break through his carefully erected defenses. He’d kept them out. And he might have continued to do so until he died, if it hadn’t been for Sophie. She’d dragged him kicking and screaming out into the light, and he couldn’t go back. He didn’t want to.
She broke free of his mouth and buried her face in his neck. A cold dampness soaked through his shirt where she’d tucked herself against him.
Tears. Sophie was crying for him. Another wall was obliterated inside his heart. His own eyes burned and he blinked rapidly. Her empathy for him, her own suffering, told him she wasn’t anything like the cold-hearted journalist he’d wanted to paint her as. She was so much more. Sophie Ryder was all heart, and right now her heart was bleeding for him. He wasn’t worthy of her tears, yet they filled him with a sense of healing reverence.
“Shush.” He rubbed her back in slow, smoothing strokes. “Don’t cry, please, Sophie.” He tightened his grip on her body as she inhaled a ragged breath.
“I’m okay.” She insisted, sniffling once or twice. She pushed at his chest as if determined to separate herself from him.
With a heavy reluctance he let her go, feeling as though his entire existence was ripped to pieces at the distance she put between them.
She stepped back, dabbing at her eyes with her fingers, rubbing stray tears away. “I’m sorry I lost control.” She looked as though she wished to say more but he fixed her with a stern glare.
“No apologizing for showing me your heart. Never apologize for that.” He cupped her shoulders in his palms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Come on, I need to fetch something from my room. My parents will be here soon.” He led her from the room and back down the hall.
Her eyes widened. They paused outside his bedroom door and he waved a hand for her to enter.
Understanding flooded his senses. Her faint trembling and shimmering silver eyes spoke of fear. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of them?”
“Well…yeah. They’re your parents. I…What exactly will they think of me?”
“That you’re lovely, intelligent, and entirely mine.”That’s all that matters to me. “Did I tell you how enchanting you look?” He brushed her hair back over her shoulder, reveling in its silkiness.
“No, you didn’t.” She crossed her arms and looked up at him expectantly.
“You are beautiful. I must admit I chose your dress well.”
Sophie’s lips parted on a gasp. “You picked these? How?”
“I had Hans take me into town while you were cleaning up. There’s a little boutique there. The woman who owns it is a close friend. Do you like what I’ve chosen?” Unable to resist he fisted his hands in the dark blue skirts, loving the way he held her captive. Earlier at the store he’d seen many different dresses but this one had seemed so Sophie.
The conservative cut, but the lively flare and bell shape of the skirts gave her comfort and mobility, and for once he found those two qualities appealing. The women he’d been with before had worn tight, restrictive clothes. While outwardly they’d appeared sexier, he’d had a damned hard time getting their clothes off. With Sophie, he could get his hands up her skirts and find her center with ease, and have no trouble taking what he wished, giving her what she needed. As his friend, Madeline, had packaged up the dress, all he could think about was how at dinner he could slide his hand up her inner thigh, stroking her to a slow burning passion, all without any suspicion from the others. And Sophie would have to control herself, or else reveal what his touch was doing to her. It would be a wonderfully wicked game.
“Of course I like it. I guess I expected that if you were picking something you’d make me wear some slinky black dress.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her, surprised she’d assume something so wrong. “I want easy access to you and for you to feel comfortable. A woman has stronger orgasms if she’s comfortable. Slinky dresses hold no interest for me.”
Her blush told him everything and it was too much to resist. He caught her wrists by the cuffs and removed a slender chain from his pocket, connecting the cuffs together. With a panicked gasp she struggled to get free but he lifted her arms above her head and hung the tiny chain connecting the cuffs to the small brass hook sticking discretely out of the wood on the left bedpost at the end of his bed.
“Hey! Let me go, Emery. Seriously.” She struggled to stand on tiptoes to pull the chain free. It was no use. Just the way he wanted it to be, Sophie at his mercy.
***
Emery stepped back and crossed his arms, studying her with a satisfied expression. “Beautiful and tempting.” He walked a half circle around her, eyes skating over her appreciatively. Her body responded with a flush of heat from her head to her toes. Finally he came back to her and cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing patterns over her lips, while his other hand settled on the back of her lower thigh. He coasted his hand up, and the erotic and playful stroke made her core throb. His hand froze when it met the silk of her panties. Emery’s brows drew together in displeasure.
