His words make me smile as he releases himself to reach up and squeeze my breast. He easily slips into me, and my head tilts back. I groan at the welcome sensation of him connected with me. I want his mouth. I want his weight, but he’s watching me take him— surging forward and slipping back, entering me over and over again.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He sounds astonished by the thought. He’s beautiful as well, straining over me, holding himself off while he witnesses our bodies coming together. The connection is overwhelming in the darkness of the room, lit only by some far-off light source. The quiet summer sounds chirp through the window, and it feels . . . almost magical.
His pace increases, and his fingers reach down to my sensitive hood and stroke me tenderly. The juxtaposition between the hard friction of his thrusts and the gentle touch of his fingertips is too much.
“I . . .” My breath hitches as I feel the sensation building once again. One hand clutches at his wrist near the side of my body. The other wraps over his other wrist closest to my center. I’m not assisting him as much as holding on. I don’t want this feeling to end. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want to lose him.
“Emily, darlin’,” he warns as he moves faster, the pressure deeper. My knees bend upward. My heels brace on the edge of the bed as Jess’s eyes lower to where we connect. It’s so raw, so real, and I dissolve again. Like tiny stars scattering, I separate into a million tiny pieces and then return to myself.
I wrap my legs around his waist, desperate to hold him to me, and Jess removes his hand from my center. His arms cage me in as he rocks harder, chasing his own detonation. Eventually, he stills, and for a second, I wish he was bare. I wish I could feel him release into me. I give up the thought as I watch his face. His jaw clenches. His eyes briefly close, and then his lids pop open.
“I lied,” he whispers, glancing down at my dress. “I don’t want to pluck all the flowers in this garden of a dress. I only want to pick one flower.”
The intensity in his denim-colored eyes tells me what he means or rather who.
He’d choose me, and I want to choose him.
Rule 17
Them’s fighting words.
[Jess]
The next few days fall into a comfortable kind of rhythm, which I come to realize is both dangerous and something I don’t want to give up. Emily joins us for family dinner at Mom’s house the day after our date. Katie and I visit her at Mrs. Parrish’s place the next night for dinner. I notice Elizabeth doesn’t have a television, or at least a working one, so Emily comes to our place to watch a girly princess movie one evening, and we go see another one at the local movie theater the next. By Thursday evening, I’m kid-friendly dated out. I’ve been back to the house to re-measure for a new sink, but it still isn’t enough. I need some adult time with Emily, and more than just the kisses we sneak in when we think no one is watching or when Katie is out of the room for a few minutes. The clock counting down our time together feels like it’s speeding up, and I want to spend all my minutes with her.
“So, it’s kind of a tradition to meet up once a week with a few of my family members. Whoever is available,” I say to her as I arrive on Thursday evening.
“And how many are available tonight?” she asks nervously, paint splattered on her cheek. More preparations to leave.
“Well, Tom and Karyn. My sister Tricia, and my other sister Pam. And Karyn’s youngest brother, Ethan.”
“Your brother married Ethan’s sister and that’s what joins you all together?” she clarifies. I’d explained earlier how Gavin Scott was my best friend when I was a kid, and that Karyn is Gavin’s older sister. I’d forgotten to mention there was one more Scott sibling.
“Yep. Makes us family by default.” I swipe at her nose. “Did you get any on the walls?”
She looks up at me all innocent-like, and I can’t stop the grin from forming on my lips. It’s been nice to smile again, and this woman does it to me. I’ll be going back to who I was once