Page 56 of The E.M.M.A. Effect
So I let the silence stretch, enjoying the way it makes him fidget. I like this version of Gale—a little unsure, waiting on me.
“So,” I finally say, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. “This is where the magic happens?”
I watch a myriad of emotions flicker across his face—relief, amusement, and a flash of heat. “It could be magical, yeah.”
It’s the heat that steals my breath. His eyes darken, stormy bluegiving way to something deeper, more primal. It hits me like a physical force; my pulse spikes, blood rushing in my ears.
His fingers flex at his sides, the movement drawing my eye. I imagine those hands on my skin and suppress a shiver.
Soon.
The room suddenly feels too small, the space between us both vast and nonexistent.
I lift my chin, meeting his intensity head-on. The challenge is issued and accepted in the space of a heartbeat. Whatever game we’ve been playing before, the rules have changed. And judging by the hunger in Gale’s eyes, we are both more than ready to play.
“Strip to your underwear,” I command. “Slowly.”
Gale’s eyes widen, but he complies without hesitation. As he peels off his shirt, I allow my gaze to roam over his sculpted torso, appreciating how years of hockey have honed his body to perfection. His chest is broad and his nipples flat and more brown than pink. I fight off a sudden urge to lick one.
My gaze travels over the planes of his chest, noting a faint white line just below his left collarbone. Another scar, jagged and about three inches long, runs along his right side. I find myself curious about the stories behind these marks, evidence of a physicality I hadn’t fully appreciated before.
Then I notice it—a single word tattooed in elegant script along his left rib cage, stark against his skin.
“‘Indómitus,’” I read aloud, my finger hovering just above the ink. “Latin?”
He nods, a hint of pride in his voice. “In essence, it means ‘unconquered.’”
“Unconquered,” I repeat, tasting the challenge. “Quite the bold statement.”
A flicker of understanding passes between us. His jawclenches slightly, the movement accentuating the strong lines of his face. “It seemed appropriate when I got it,” he says, his voice low.
My hand finally makes contact with his body, tracing the letters slowly. I feel his sharp intake of breath at my touch, watch as the muscles in his abdomen tense reflexively.
“And now?” I ask, my gaze never leaving his.
“Now... I’m not sure.”
I lean in closer, my lips nearly brushing his ear, inhaling the scent of his skin. “We’re about to find out. Remove the rest.”
His hands move to his belt, fumbling in his eagerness. I tsk softly. “Slowly.”
He takes a deep breath, visibly steadying himself. This time, his movements are deliberate, almost teasing. When he stands before me in just his black boxer briefs, I circle him slowly, drinking in the sight.
“Good,” I praise, trailing a finger across the top of his bare V-line. I feel him shiver at my touch. “Now, on the bed. Sit with your back against the headboard.”
Gale moves to comply, settling himself among the pile of oversized pillows. He doesn’t blink as I approach the bed.
“Have you dreamed of this?” I ask, my knee dipping onto the mattress. “Having me in here?”
He nods. “Fuck yes.”
I smirk. “Tell me. Tell me what you’ve imagined.”
His composure slips. “Fuck,” he repeats, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve imagined... Christ, what haven’t I imagined.”
His eyes are so raw and hungry. “I’ve thought about putting my hand up under your pretty little dresses and seeing how wet you feel under my fingers. I wonder what sounds you’d make. I’vejerked off thinking about my mouth between your legs, memorizing your taste.”
“Keep going.” I watch as his chest rises and falls, his control unraveling.
