Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EMMA

M y entire body is aching all over after what we did. Toward the end, when he turned savage, I was coming so much I didn't even realize how hard he was pounding my pussy. I feel it now like he's left a permanent mark on me. Every movement, even small ones, reminds me of the passion. He lies there with his T-shirt on, staring sincerely. He means it. He wants me to be his woman, whatever that could possibly mean in this context.

"Obviously, I feel something," I murmur.

He sighs and sits back, wincing a little.

"Your back?" I say quickly, remembering how I grabbed it as we made love, fucked, a mixture of both. "I grabbed?—"

"Don't you even think about apologizing for that," he snaps. "You were so perfect when you lost control, so damn excitable, the way you were moaning and bouncing for me."

"But you're hurt," I say.

"I've been hurt before," he says gruffly. "It doesn't matter. It was worth it. You're worth it."

I snuggle closer to him, kissing him on the cheek, then resting my head against his chest. Now that we've stopped moving, I'm realizing how much colder it is in here than next to the fire. He hugs me close and brushes his hand through my hair.

"How can you say I'm your woman?" I ask quietly. "It can't mean anything once the storm has passed, right? Once the storm is over, we're?—"

"Don't say it," he cuts in like the very idea is sick to him, even the thought we don't belong together. "We have something."

"What about after the blizzard? When we're not trapped? What about when Dad finds out?"

"We'll just… just have to tell him."

I rarely see Jacob hesitate. I bet it's rare for anybody to see him pause like that, that almost boyish uncertainty coming into his usually steady eyes. He looks like he's thinking of all the times he's ever spent with Dad, back to their days in the military. It's like he wakes up from a dream.

"You're right," he sighs through gritted teeth. "What am I thinking? But it's how I feel, Emma. I can't ignore that. That's why I wanted to?—"

"Don't say it," I cut in like he did with me because I can't hear that. I can't even think about it—the idea of a world without Jacob.

I hug even closer to him when the cabin shakes as if the wind will pick it up and send us through the air. Maybe to a new place, a new world, one where Dad is miraculously okay with what we're doing, one where he somehow supports us—a fake world, perhaps.

"What do we do?" I whisper.

"We focus on keeping you and Mike safe. After the blizzard, we'll find out why he left. Then we'll be able to catch or kill Rafael."

"Catch or kill him? I thought we were hiding."

"We are," he snaps. "I meant… after I confirm he's not coming to the States, I'm going back there to tear out his heart for daring to threaten you."

Suddenly, his lips are on mine again. There's an instant melding that happens when we kiss. It's like our atoms are fusing together. I know how ridiculous that seems, but it feels true. It even lets me forget the look in his eyes when he corrected himself. He glances away, seeming suspicious. Like he's hiding something, but what? Maybe one day, we'll run out of secrets.

He slides his hand down my body. Every time he squeezes onto my hips, I can feel how hungry he is for more. It's like our bodies talk to each other. Already, we know each other. We bonded more when we had sex than most people do in weeks.

But what was that look in his eyes about?

He slips his hand between my legs, rubbing my pussy. The stickiness mixes with the new wetness. My pussy aches deliciously.

"I'm a bit tender," I whisper.

He removes his hand, leaning back. "It's okay."

"No, I can, just not as hard as last time."

"Did I get too rough?" he asks gruffly.

"No. It was amazing, but maybe not every time."

"Your tight, inexperienced pussy needs time to recover," he says, his voice getting husky, gently rubbing my clit now. He moves so slowly, gently massaging me, and then he rolls over and holds himself up with one arm, staring intensely down at me. "I'll be slow. I'll be gentle."

"Do you think you're capable of that?" I ask in a teasing tone.

"I have to be," he says gruffly. "It's what you deserve. I keep forgetting that, Emma. What you deserve is so much more than what I gave you on graduation night."

I grab onto his shoulders, reminding myself not to touch his back as he rubs his massive tip against my entrance. Unlike before, there's no fear. There's no doubt. I know he'll be able to slip into me.

Oh, oh … It's like I've already forgotten how good he feels inside me. He glides deeper and deeper, but slower this time. The pleasure is instant. It's like a reward from my body for taking him, every single inch, for letting him slide up and up and up. He pushes all the way inside and then holds himself deep in me, leaning down and kissing me tenderly on the lips.

I stroke my hands through his hair as he inches out slowly, the blizzard seeming so distant. Even the guilt drifts away as he slides out, looking down at me with those intense eyes, glinting obsessively. He glides in again, even slower this time.

"You're so big," I whisper. "It feels so, so good."

"Perfect," he growls. "You're just… perfect ."

He glides in again, and then we rock like that. It's like our bodies are melting together. It's like our souls are melting through our bodies and fusing. I don't care if that sounds cuckoo. It's exactly how it feels.

"Show me how you want it," he says, rolling over with his hands on my hips so that I end up on top of him. I brace my hands against his chest, feeling his muscles bulging through his T-shirt. I've never seen Jacob so obsessed as he gazes up at me.

"I've never done this before," I whisper, sitting with his dick buried inside. He's so big, he's tickling deep, deep places. It's a warm, sizzling spot I never even knew existed. That's not saying much when he's got ten times more experience than me.

"Just rock your hips. Listen to your body."

"Like this?" Bracing my hands on his chest, I lean forward, feeling his dick gently glide out of me. Then I sit back, feeling him fill me up again, completely owning me with his size. I'm his , he said, but then he admitted it was impossible. Yet it doesn't feel impossible as I rock atop him.

"Oh, fuck ," he groans. "You're so good at riding my dick."

I squeeze my hands tighter against his chest, his muscles hard against me as I begin to rock faster. He has his hands on my hips, but he doesn't move me; he just holds them there. I'm the one leading the dance this time. I slide up and down at a tempo my sore core can take, the pleasure more teasing this time, tickling, tempting an orgasm from me.

"I could do this all fucking night," he growls, his hands sinking deeper into my hips with more passionate ownership. "Rock like this with you. Nothing. Else. Exists."

"Nothing else," I murmur.

Nobody else, either , but I don't add that part. Instead, I keep rocking on top of him. He's right. At this speed, we could go all night, his huge, hard, thick stick completely flooding my pussy. He presses against my walls, making it a tight squeeze, making me his. He makes more room for the pleasure of finding a way. Intense spirals of pure heat wash through me, the pleasure pumping until I almost can't take it. My whole body is shaking on top of him. I have to grip his chest hard so I don't buck off from the passion.

He groans and sinks his hands deeper into me, subtly moving me up and down now, leaning up so he can look into my eyes. He sits all the way up so I'm rocking in his lap, and then he supports my back and kisses me, crushing me against him. We're folded against each other completely. We're intertwined. We're like one being.

I moan as the pleasure bursts out of me, wave after wave of it. So much comes from hearing him moan, his urgency. Toward the end of our shared crescendo, he lifts me up and down, guiding me along the length of his pleasure. I move in time with him, turning savage. When it's over, we're both left shaking.

I slide off, lying next to him, head on his chest. My pussy is sore now. I'll need a break for the rest of the night, but what will we do? Lie here and hold each other? Pretend the world doesn't exist?

"What now?" I whisper.

He kisses the top of my head, so much more tender than I ever imagined he could be. Then he whispers, "Now we lie here. Or you paint, and I watch you because you're so beautiful when you paint. We get dressed and let Rusty in here because he's probably scared by the blizzard. Or, we stay together, Emma."

"But what about?—"

"There is no after ," he growls. "There's just me and you right here."

"Okay," I say, kissing him again, sinking deeper into the moment, nothing else, trying to obliterate any thought of Dad or where he might be. Panic flutters in me.

This is so wrong. Dad is missing, and we just… What sort of daughter am I? What is wrong with me? When I sink more stubbornly into the steaminess of the kiss, somehow, I can push all that far back into my mind and let it go. I'm able to stifle something that should be everything to me. I shouldn't be able to let this guilt go so easily, but I can with my man.

"Come on," he says, ending the kiss. "Let's get dressed. We'll see how Rusty's doing."

I playfully jab him in the stomach. "I thought you didn't care about him?"

Jacob looks at me with that same sincerity. I realize this is the real him, the man behind the stern shield. "I never said that, but I can't afford to care about him. That's a very different thing."

"Just like us," I whisper. "We care… but we can't afford to."

He sighs tiredly, then nods, though it has a forced aura like he'd rather break something. "Yeah, exactly, Emma. Just like us."

Returning to the living room, it's like we've become different people. I don't feel the same as the virgin Emma who left this room earlier. Jacob doesn't seem the same, either. That person is gone now. I'll never be able to remember what it was like, having not crossed that line.

The blizzard is still raging, so we sit in the living room. I'm not in the mood to paint, so we put on a movie. I lie with my head in his lap. Rusty is curled up at the bottom of the couch, so I've got warmth from all angles. Soon, the sound of the blizzard becomes somehow comforting. I press closer into my man, contentment enveloping me.

Then I wake, the fire crackling against my cheeks, letting out a yawn. It's the deepest, most peaceful sleep I've ever had—dreamless, leaving me feeling refreshed and disoriented momentarily. Sitting up, I see morning sunlight slanting through the open windows. Grunting comes from outside. I stand, looking out the window to find Jacob working in the snow, shoveling it away from the porch. It's piled thickly, almost completely covering the car and the surrounding area. My chest cramps thinking of Dad.

Last night… the intimacy… the betrayal… I still don't know if Dad is okay.

"Has your phone got a signal?" I say, standing at the front door, the cold instantly making me shiver.

Jacob looks up, his hair glistening with sunlight and sweat, his cheeks slightly red as he works in a light jacket, no gloves, almost like he wants to punish himself. "I spoke to your dad. He's safe in Little Hope."

"What's he doing?" I ask.

Jacob keeps shoveling, Rusty sitting close by, watching curiously. My man moves like a machine. He's flipped a switch, and the rest is automatic. He turns his back, and I guess that's how it's going to be again after all the closeness and heat.

"I don't know," he says after a pause. "He wouldn't tell me."

There's something shifty in his tone, just like before Dad left. Is Jacob lying to me?

"Do you need any help?" I ask.

"No, looks like the sun's going to be shining today. It should thaw. Just helping things along."

"A coffee or something?"

He smiles over at me, leaning against the shovel. It's like the ice is melting around him. "Sure, a coffee sounds good."

After making it, he joins me in the kitchen, shaking the snow from his coat onto the porch and hanging it up. He sits at the table with the steam from the coffee mug shimmering around his strong features, making him look dreamlike, which is fitting, considering last night. He reaches across the table and touches my hand.

"I can't believe I slept through last night," I whisper.

He smiles softly, shakily. "You were tired. You looked so peaceful."

"But the blizzard's over now."

He frowns, nodding. He doesn't need me to explain what I mean by this. When we were trapped, the rest of the world might as well have fallen into a pit. There was nothing but us, the now, the moment. There was nothing but the closeness. Now, there's everything. As if to prove the point, my phone buzzes from the kitchen counter where I left it. Then it buzzes six more times.

"I guess your signal is back, too."

He says this almost sadly, highlighting that we've entered a new era. Like before, we're trying to draw a line through what we did. Then he grips my hand hard and leans across the table. He kisses me with an explosion of passion, letting me feel how badly he wants this.

"I can't resist you," he says with that tempting huskiness in his voice. "But when I spoke to Mike earlier, it hit me what we did—what I did."

"What we did," I tell him. "I wanted it just as badly as you. I'm in the wrong, too."

"I don't know what to do." He sits back, running a hand through his hair. "That's new for me."

"What can we do?"

"Tell him," he says uncertainly but then with more confidence. "We could tell him."

"Tell him what? "

"That we're together," Jacob says.

"Tell him we had sex? Tell him we want to do it again?"

"Not exactly," Jacob grunts, "but…" Suddenly, he pushes away from the table. "We have to handle Rafael first. All of this is a distraction. That's how I have to think of it for now. When this is over, we'll do the right thing."

"But what is the right thing?" I ask.

"I don't know." He grabs the back of the chair with tight fists, shaking his head as if at the entire world. "Why do you have to be Mike's daughter?"

"Sorry. I can't really help that."

He picks up his coffee and leans over the table, kissing me on the forehead. It feels so couple-like and natural. If it weren't for Dad, I'd feel like the luckiest woman alive. He's experienced, mature, handsome, funny, and fierce, and said I was his . He owned me. I want it again so badly.

With the sunlight bouncing off the snow, filling the room, I can't bring myself to pounce on him again. It's like the sunlight shows our shame, the true magnitude of our actions. He turns away and leaves the room quickly. We're back to square one—pretending again.

I move my hand over my belly, imagining for a second. I can't let my thoughts go there, though it is possible. Neither of us has commented on the fact we didn't use a condom. I guess we're leaving that to fate, just like the rest of our relationship.