Chapter 10

10

R y had wanted to kiss Emerson ever since he stepped across her threshold. The brief kiss they had exchanged had only whet his appetite for more. She had surprised him with that kiss, and it had ended almost as soon as it had begun. He hadn't known if she had wanted to kiss him and then changed her mind or if she had been embarrassed about taking the lead.

He wasn't shy about that— and was ready to have a proper kiss with her.

Leaning toward her, he fought the urge to touch her and merely brushed his lips against hers slowly, wanting to see how she responded. Her lips were full and pillowy soft, the most tempting lips he had ever touched. She didn't move, merely letting him make light contact. Since she didn't pull away, Ry decided to crank it up a notch.

His hand went to her nape, cupping it, holding her in place as he gently pressed his mouth to hers. He thought it odd that she hadn't moved. Hadn't responded. It was as if Emerson was frozen in time.

Or too scared to move.

Ry still thought something had happened with her— or to her —that made her wary around men. That kept him from advancing too fast now. Instead, he alternated kissing her lips softly with moving to her cheek. Her ear. Her throat, where her pulse throbbed wildly. Just easy, sweet kisses. Nothing demanding.

Damn, if she didn't move or react or make some kind of noise soon, he was going to stop and ask why.

He gave it another minute, pressing his lips a little harder against hers. Still, nothing.

Breaking the kiss, he looked into those sad, gray eyes, seeing them clouded. With doubt? Frustration?

Ry couldn't say.

"Why did you stop?" Emerson asked, her mouth trembling slightly, her brow creased with worry. "Oh, never mind," she said, pushing off her stool to escape.

Something in her tone gave him pause. He stood, reaching out and clasping her elbow, spinning her to face him. Surprise filled him as he saw tears welling in her eyes. She blinked and then looked away.

"Emerson?" he asked, taking her chin in hand and turning her back to face him.

This time when she looked at him, he saw disappointment, which was like a knife to his heart.

"I'm sorry about the kiss," he apologized. "It was impulsive of me. I should've asked you first."

"I'm not the kind of girl you kiss," she blurted out, biting her lip once the words sounded. She pulled away and went to where their plates were sitting. Picking them up, she said, "You can leave now. I'll clean this up. I'll wash your pan and return it to you."

She brought the plates to the sink and set them down, turning on the water to rinse them.

He was usually good— really, really good —about reading women.

In this moment, he had no idea what had gone wrong. But he was determined to find out and make things right with her.

Going to stand behind her, Ry leaned around and turned off the faucet, his body brushing against hers. He felt the electricity spark between them and turned Emerson to face him.

"Have I done something wrong?" he asked. "And what did you mean, you're not the kind of girl I would kiss. How would you know who I like to kiss?"

His hands went to her shoulders, keeping her firmly in place. He wanted answers.

She bit her lip again. "You're… well, you're Ry Blackwood. I'm guessing you were the most popular guy in your class. The guy every girl wanted to go out with. The one even the nobodies had a crush on." She wet her lips. "You're handsome. Smart. Outgoing. And you're built like a hero in a romance novel."

"Huh?" he said. "I'm not following this conversation at all, Emerson. Spit it out."

Frustration filled her eyes. "You're so far out of my league, Ry. I'm a cipher. I could never hold the attention of a man like you. I… I… don't even know how to kiss."

Without warning, she burst into tears. She tried to pull away, but he wasn't willing to let her run off after what she'd just told him. When she realized that, she collapsed against him, her entire body shaking as she cried her heart out. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms about her, stroking her hair.

"It's okay," he murmured. "You're safe."

His words had the opposite of his desired effect, making her cry even harder. Baffled by her outburst, he swept her off her feet and carried her to the sofa. He sat, cradling her in his lap, her face buried against his chest. He decided to remain quiet and let her simply cry it out. Hopefully, he would get to the bottom of things after that.

She wept for another few minutes and then began to quieten. He'd been rubbing her back, trying to comfort her. Kissing the top of her head. She didn't wear perfume, but she had a sweet smell about her, as if the desserts she baked enveloped her, causing her to give off a delightful scent.

Finally, she lifted her head, staring at his chest and not looking him in the eye.

"Thank you for being nice to me when you didn't have to. You can go now."

"What if I want to stay?"

His question caused her to suck in a quick breath. Her gaze met his, and he saw yearning in hers.

"Have you ever been kissed, Emerson?" he asked quietly.

Fresh tears welled in her eyes. "No," she whispered.

Her words shocked him. No wonder she hadn't responded to him. She didn't know how. Good Lord, she had to be in her late twenties— and yet no man had ever kissed her?

Ry would ask her about that later. Right now, he wanted to soothe her. Assure her.

"Would you like me to teach you how to kiss?"

"Yes."

It was a start.

"Okay. First, you shouldn't hold back. You didn't really move when I kissed you before. It's okay if you do. You'll feel things, all kinds of things when you kiss. You can react. Make a noise if you'd like."

"A noise?" she questioned, her brow furrowing.

"A sigh. A moan. Whatever feels right, go with it."

"Okay."

"It's also okay if you touch the other person. Stroke their face. Touch their hair. Kiss them where you want to kiss them."

When she gave him a blank look, he said, "On the mouth. The chin. The brow. The throat."

"Oh. Okay."

"Would you like to try a kiss with me now?"

Emerson nodded.

"Close your eyes. Let the sensations you're feeling guide you. Kissing heightens your senses. Your awareness of your body."

She looked uncertain, but she closed her eyes. Ry looked at her, his heart aching. This woman was special. She had a lot to give— and had no understanding of how to do so. He reminded himself how alone she must have been for so many years and figured she'd cut herself off from all her feelings. Or at least repressed them.

His mouth moved to hers. Once more, he brushed his lips against hers. This time, he sensed a difference in her. He kissed her. Not too hard or soft. But firmly.

Her hands moved to grip his shoulders.

"Good," Ry murmured against her mouth. "Now, you kiss me."

She stilled a moment but followed through. She moved her mouth on his, gradually increasing the pressure. His blood spiked, running hot through his limbs. One arm was snug around her waist. He allowed his free hand to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking it.

He began kissing her again, and this time, Emerson kissed him back. She might never have kissed a man before, but she was a fast learner. Desire flickered within him, and Ry decided to up the stakes.

Slowly, he ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth, back and forth, urging her to open to him. She did so, and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, stroking hers. Emerson didn't move for a moment, and he worried he had pushed her too far.

Then she snuggled closer to him. One hand pushed into his hair. Her tongue rubbed against his. His blood caught on fire now, but he knew to rein in the desire. This woman needed baby steps. A lot of them.

And for the first time in his life, Ry didn't want to rush things.

They kissed for a long time, with him exploring her mouth and teaching her to do the same. She tasted as sweet as she smelled, absolutely divine. He didn't think he'd ever spent this much time kissing a woman, but he could have kissed Emerson all night.

Breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips along her jawline and then down to her throat. He nipped playfully at her racing pulse and then licked it, soothing the skin. She had startled when he did so, but she settled against him again as he licked and nipped at her, little sounds of satisfaction coming from her.

"Can I try that?" she asked.

"You can do anything you like," he told her. "Be as bold as you want."

Their gazes met— and he saw those gray eyes had darkened, turning stormy with desire.

"Go for it," he whispered encouragingly.

And she did.

Though she was a novice, every kiss sent his senses reeling. Her tongue glided along the skin of his throat, and he sighed in contentment. She moved back to his mouth and softly bit into his lower lip, something he had yet to teach her.

"Good," he murmured, glad she was following her instincts.

They began kissing again, longer, deeper, more passionately. By now, the student was ready to become the teacher, and Ry's tongue warred with hers happily, his groans becoming louder, even as her moans went from soft to needy.

He was the one to break the kiss. "You pick up things quickly."

She laughed softly. "You make me feel… confident. Alive."

Ry kissed her again, hard, and then broke it. "You taste incredibly sweet, Emerson."

"You taste like… danger," she replied.

He gave her a soft kiss. "Don't ever be afraid of me. I'll always listen to you. To what you say with your voice. With your body. We'll only do what you want us to do."

She frowned. "I'm just learning how to kiss, Ry. I can't think of going beyond that right now. This is all so new to me."

"I'm not asking to make love to you, Emerson. Maybe that day will come. Maybe it won't. But I want you to know that you're in charge. We only do what you're comfortable doing."

Her face softened. "Thank you. I like kissing. I like kissing you , Ry."

She rested her head on his shoulder a moment, and he inhaled the sweet scent of her.

Then she raised her head. "I guess you want to know why I've never kissed anyone."

"I'll admit I'm curious," he told her. "But I only want you to share what you want of your story."

"I think I'll get our wine," she said, slipping from his lap and heading to the kitchen.

He watched her fill their glasses again, and she brought them back, handing him his. She sat next to him. While he wished Emerson would've climbed back into his lap, he was happy to take her hand and thread his fingers through hers.

She looked down at their joined hands. "This feels really nice. Almost as nice as kissing."

"You've never held hands with anyone?"

"Nope." She took a large swallow of her wine and set it on the coffee table in front of them. "I don't want your pity. I'm just going to tell you how things always were."

He set down his own glass and took her other hand, smiling encouragingly.

"My dad had a hot temper. I learned early to stay out of his way, especially when he was drinking."

"He hit you?" The thought angered him.

"A few times. Like I said, I got good at avoiding him. Making myself small. Sometimes, I'd even hide under my bed. Or in the closet. With him, it was out of sight, out of mind. Mom never learned that lesson. She would confront him. Yell at him about his drinking. He slapped her around a lot." She winced. "I would put my hands over my ears when they were fighting, but I could still hear them."

Emerson paused, staring into space a moment. Ry knew to let the story unfold at her pace and kept silent.

"He went to prison for killing a man. Frankly, I can't tell you who it was or what it was about. I assume he was drunk and belligerent when it happened."

"How old were you?"

"I was in third grade."

His heart ached, thinking of a frail, skinny Emerson, knowing how her classmates would have teased and even bullied her unmercifully over something like this. His fingers tightened on hers.

"Mom went off the deep end after he went to prison. I thought things would be better with him gone. Or at least different. Well, they were different. She started drinking. Got into drugs. Lost job after job. We moved a lot because she couldn't make the rent. The lights would be turned off when the bill wasn't paid. Not much food was in the pantry. She was gone all hours, leaving me to fend for myself."

He leaned over and kissed her softly. "I'm sorry."

"It was hard. It got even harder. I tried to keep myself clean and presentable, but the teachers at school figured out things were bad. They reported her to the Child Protective Services. They came and took me away. I never lived with her after that."

A tear ran down Emerson's face, and he leaned over, kissing it away.

"Even though things were awful, I still wanted her to get her act together. Get clean and sober and bring me home." She paused. "It never happened. I went from one foster home to another. Rarely saw her. And then when I was fourteen, she signed away her parental rights. She OD'd a few years later."

"How did that make you feel?" he asked.

"Her giving me up hurt worse than hearing about her death. By then, I'd written her off. I was too old for anyone to even think about adopting me. No one wants a teenager. I tried so hard, Ry, to be good. Not to cause any problems. I worked harder than anyone at school. Had a teacher who mentored me. Miss Kent saw potential in me and told me a college degree would be my way out of poverty and despair."

She smiled wryly. "I became a teacher because of Miss Kent. I wanted to help other kids, just as she'd helped me." Emerson cleared her throat. "Anyway, I studied and graduated number one in my class. I also worked thirty hours a week."

"So, too busy to date."

"Exactly. No prom for me. No clubs or athletics. Just work and study. College was the same. I had to maintain a certain GPA to keep my grants and scholarships. I also worked in a bakery during the week and as a server and then bartender in a sports bar on the weekends. I had no social life. I built an impenetrable wall around me, Ry. I was friendly to everyone I worked with, but I always gave off the vibe that let people know I had no interest in pursuing any kind of friendship— or relationship —outside of work or class."

"What about when you came to Lost Creek? You're a beautiful woman, Emerson." When she began to protest, he said, "You are. Without question. I can't believe you didn't have a line out your door."

She shrugged. "I suppose I was comfortable with my small world. Usually, people meet others at work, but Lost Creek Elementary didn't even have a single male teacher on staff. And then I started at The Bake House, working weekends during the school year and five or six days a week during summers. I've always filled my time, Ry. I don't know. Maybe I'm afraid to be alone with myself or around others."

"You seemed very comfortable last night at Harper's house."

Her face softened. "I really like everyone in the group. Finley's the one who pulled me along. We roomed together our first year at UT, then she joined a sorority and moved to the house. We were both elementary ed majors, though, and stayed friends. Then when we came to Lost Creek to teach, we rented this house. I saw guys come and go over the years, and Finley never really seemed happy with any of them. Thankfully, Holden came along and changed all that."

Emerson sighed. "I guess I never really thought I've missed out on anything by not dating. Not sleeping with anyone. I loved teaching math and science. I think when the school year starts up again, I'm going to miss doing that. I am happy Ethel left the Bake House to me, though, and I'm thrilled to be working with Harper. Baking and stretching my creativity to the max when I decorate wedding and groom's cakes makes me very happy."

He gazed into her eyes. "Do you think you could add another layer into the mix? Like seeing me?"

She waited a long moment and then shook her head. "I don't think so, Ry. You're a man of the world. You've got a bright future ahead of you. I'm always going to be that awkward, unloved girl. I'm happy in my work and blessed to have some really wonderful friends, but you need a better match than me. Someone lively and outgoing and more?—"

"I want you, Emerson," Ry declared boldly. "I can't say if this will work out between us or not, but I'm drawn to you in a way I never have been to anyone else. Are you brave enough to at least give us a chance?"

He waited, not moving, not breathing, hoping she wouldn't shut him out.

Her sad eyes revealed her answer before she spoke. "No. It would never work between us, Ry. I would disappoint you. And you're so nice, you'd feel sorry for me and wouldn't tell me when I wasn't enough for you." She paused. "Until you finally decided to move on. Which you would."

Emerson stood, putting distance between them. "I wish things could work between us. I'm just saving you from wasting your time— and me from having my heart broken when you leave. Let's just try and be friends."

It was not the answer he had expected.

Ry Blackwood always got his way.

And now he was being shut down by a virgin who was too afraid to open her heart.

Emerson may think she was making the right move, ending things before they could ever start up between them.

But he was going to prove her wrong.