Chapter 19 - Emerald

The windows of Cohen's Aston Martin fog up as we wind around Crescent Lake, the world outside all blurry white snow and towering evergreens. Inside it's warm—like, way too warm—but I can't make myself scoot even an inch away from him. My body literally feels like it'll shut down if I'm not touching him.

I wonder if this is what being addicted to something feels like... that whole trembling hands, racing heart, can't-live-without-it thing from all those "Just Say No" commercials my mother lets play during her charity events. Except they definitely weren't talking about being addicted to your stepfather.

Ugh. That sounds so bad when I put it that way.

But it's true—I physically can't stop myself from pressing closer, breathing him in, letting his presence fill up all the empty spaces inside me that I never even knew were there until he showed me.

My head rests against his shoulder while he drives, our fingers tangled together on his thigh. His thumb keeps stroking back and forth across my knuckles in this rhythm that matches my heartbeat. Or maybe my heart's just learned to beat in time with him now. That wouldn't surprise me—my body seems to exist just to respond to him these days.

God, I'm so far gone it's not even funny.

"Look at that," he murmurs, nodding toward where sunlight breaks through the clouds, turning the frozen lake into this glittering wonderland. The snow blankets everything—the massive evergreens, the lakefront mansions—making it all look like something out of a Hallmark movie. But all I can focus on is how his voice vibrates through me where we're pressed together.

He pulls into this hidden spot overlooking the water, tucked behind a bunch of snow-covered pines where you can't see us from the road. The second the engine cuts off, this heavy silence wraps around us, broken only by our breathing and the soft ticking of the cooling engine.

"I used to come here when I was a kid," Cohen says, his eyes on the frozen lake stretching out before us. His voice carries that rare softness that makes my heart flutter. "The Astors have lived in Emerald Hills as long as your family has. Though our histories took different paths."

His thumb traces circles on my knuckles where our fingers are intertwined, and I find myself leaning closer, starving for any little crumb of information that might help me know this man better.

"The Delacroixs built palaces, hosted galas, made themselves the center of attention. My family..." He pauses, and something dark flashes across his face. "We collected secrets instead. Built power through knowledge rather than the spotlight."

I study his profile in the winter light, fascinated by this side of him I've never seen. "Is that why you became a lawyer? To keep collecting secrets?"

"Among other reasons." He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm that sends tingles shooting across my skin. "But mainly because I learned early that power is the only way to protect what matters." When his eyes meet mine, the intensity in them steals my breath.

"Come here," he says, and I'm already moving before he finishes speaking because apparently I have zero chill when it comes to him. His seat slides back and then I'm in his lap, straddling him, my forehead pressed against his while his hands grip my waist. "That's better."

"I can't be away from you," I whisper, fingers curling into his shirt like I'm afraid he'll disappear if I let go. Which... maybe I am? "Even for a second. Is that crazy?"

His grip tightens, and something dark flashes in his eyes that should probably terrify me but just makes me want to get closer. "No, little one. That's exactly how it should be." One hand slides up my back to tangle in my hair, holding me against him while his lips brush mine. "I feel it too. I’ve felt it for two years. Like my skin's crawling when you're not touching me. Like I can't breathe right unless you're close."

"What did you do to me?" The question slips out before my brain can catch up with my mouth. Not that I'm scared or anything. More like... completely blown away by how much I need him.

"The same thing you did to me." His hand sneaks under my sweater, his palm hot against my lower back and oh wow, okay, that's... that's really distracting. "That night in the chapel just made it official. You've been in my blood since the first moment I saw you, consuming me like the sweetest kind of poison."

I shiver, remembering last night—the candlelight, that velvet ribbon, the way he basically ruined me for anyone else with his hands and his mouth and... everything. The way he filled up every empty space inside me until there was nothing left but him.

"I can still feel you," I admit, and my face goes nuclear hot. "Inside. Like you carved yourself into my bones or something."

He makes this sound—like, half growl, half groan—that vibrates through both our bodies. His fingers dig into my skin as he slides our joined hands higher up my thigh. "Good. I want you to feel me with every breath, every heartbeat." His fingers flex against my skin. "I want everyone to look at you and know that you're thoroughly and completely owned."

"Only by you," I breathe, and then his mouth crashes into mine.

The way he kisses me now is totally different from last night in the chapel. That was raw and desperate, like he was trying to burn away any trace of who I was before him. This is... God, I don't even know how to describe it. It's like we both finally get it—that I'm never going to want anyone but him. That I literally can't want anyone else. His desire for me is impossible to ignore where I'm straddling his lap, hard and thick against me through our clothes, making my whole body flush hot.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing like we've run a marathon. Outside, snow starts falling again, tiny flakes catching the late morning light. One of those massive mansions across the water has already put up Christmas lights and the white bulbs twinkle like stars even in the daylight.

"What happens now?" I ask, tracing my fingers along the sharp line of his jaw because I literally cannot stop touching him. His stubble feels amazing against my skin. "We can't keep sneaking around forever."

"No," he agrees, turning to press a kiss to my palm. "We can't. And we won't have to after the Christmas party."

"What do you mean?"

His eyes lock onto mine and there's that intensity again—the one that makes my lungs squeeze and falter. "I mean I'm done hiding how I feel about you. I'm done pretending I don't want to touch you every second of every day." His hand slides higher under my sweater, his fingertips trailing fire up my spine. "I'm done letting anyone think they have a say in what's between us."

"But my mother—"

"Will learn that she can't control you anymore. That she never should have tried." He cups my face in his hands, and I swear my soul tries to climb out of my body to get closer to him. "You're not her puppet, Emerald. You're not her prop or her product or her perfect little doll. You're mine. And at the party, everyone will know it."

The way he says it—like it's just a fact, like the sky being blue—makes this wild, desperate thing unfurl in my chest. "Promise?"

"I promise." He kisses me again, slow and deep like we have all the time in the world. Like nothing exists beyond this car, this moment, this absolutely insane connection between us that feels bigger than both of us and somehow keeps growing. "Seven more days, little phoenix. Seven days of pretending, and then you'll never have to hide who you are again."

I melt into him, into his touch, into the safety of his arms. Outside, the snow's coming down harder now, creating this white curtain that blocks out the rest of the world. For now, we can pretend that world doesn't exist. That there's nothing beyond this perfect bubble of warmth and want and need.

But we both know it can't last. Eventually, we'll have to go back to that house. Back to my mother's endless rules and impossible expectations. Back to pretending we're nothing more than stepfather and stepdaughter.

Crap, when did my life turn into such a mess?

For now though, I let myself get lost in him. In the way his hands worship my body through my clothes, in those little sounds he makes when I press closer, in the steady thump of his heartbeat under my palm when I slide my hand inside his jacket.

"My beautiful girl," he murmurs against my throat, and every cell in my body lights up like a Christmas tree at how... possessive he sounds. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Keep me," I whisper back. "Never let me go."

His arms tighten around me like he's afraid someone might try to snatch me away. "Never," he promises, and I believe him with everything I am. "You're stuck with me now, little one. For better or worse. In this life and the next."

I close my eyes, breathing him in. It's crazy how my whole life I never realized something was missing until Cohen. Like I was walking around half-asleep and he finally woke me up. Like he flipped some switch inside me that I never knew existed, and now I'm actually alive for the first time. He's darkness to my light, dangerous to my safe, everything I was taught to avoid but somehow exactly what I need.

The night sky to my stars.

God, I'm in so deep I can't even see the surface anymore.

Snow crunches under our boots as we reluctantly leave the warmth of the car an hour later. My lips feel tender and swollen from his kisses, and when he takes my hand, our fingers automatically tangle together like we’ve been doing it for years. He leads me toward the wooden dock stretching out over the lake, the dark water endless and mysterious beneath its coating of snow along the edges.

"I don't want to go back," I admit, watching my breath make little clouds in the air between us. "Can't we just... stay here? Pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist?"

His arm slides around my waist, pulling me against him as we stop at the edge of the dock. "One week," he murmurs, his voice doing that low, rough thing that makes my insides turn to jelly. "Give me one more week to set everything in motion, and then no one will be able to touch what's between us."

I lean into him because apparently that's just what my body does now—seeks him out like he's gravity or something. The lake stretches out in front of us, black and bottomless, with just a thin sheen of ice around the edges that makes it look like shattered glass in the weak winter light. Everything feels different here, like we've stepped into another world where my mother's rules can't reach us. Like maybe we've found this pocket of space where we can just... be.

"I'm afraid," I whisper, and the wind carries the words away. "Not of you. Never of you. But of what happens next. Of what she'll do when she finds out."

As I lean back against him, my head resting on his shoulder, his fingers dig into my hip in that possessive way I’m learning Cohen has that makes me feel protected. Sheltered from the world. "Let her try something. I've been ten steps ahead of her since the day I married her." There's this dark satisfaction in his voice that makes me feel safe in a way I probably need therapy for. Like having my own personal villain who'd destroy anyone who tried to hurt me. "She's already making mistakes."

I turn in his arms to look up at him. Snowflakes are catching in his dark hair and his eyes match the storm clouds overhead and god, how is he even real? "What do you mean?"

"The Swiss school threat? It's not empty." His jaw gets all tight and angry. "She's already made arrangements. Paid the deposit. Booked your flight."

A chill races through me that even Cohen's warmth can't chase away. "How do you know?"

"Because I have access to all her accounts. Her emails. Her entire digital footprint." His smile is sharp enough to slice someone open and honestly? That shouldn't be hot but... it kind of is? "Your mother forgets what I do for a living. Who I work for. The kind of power that gives me."

"When?" My voice shakes like I'm freezing even though I'm burning up. "When is she planning to send me?"

"The day after Christmas." His arms tighten around me like he's afraid someone might try to snatch me away right now. "But it's not going to happen. I won't let it happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

He cups my face in his hands, his touch gentle despite the steel in his voice.

"Because you're part of me now, embedded in every cell, every breath. And I'll ruin anyone who tries to separate us." His thumb brushes across my bottom lip and my thoughts scatter like startled birds. "Besides, by then it will be too late. What we started in that chapel last night... it's carved into both our souls. Permanent. Unbreakable."

My face goes nuclear hot as memories of last night flash through my mind—his hands, his mouth, the way he claimed every inch of me. The way he filled me so completely I can still feel him. "Cohen..."

"I know, little one." He bends to brush his lips against mine, soft and sweet even with his tight grip on me. "I feel it too. That need. That hunger. Like I'll die if I'm not touching you."

I press closer, trying to crawl inside his skin where it's safe and warm and nothing can hurt me. "Don't let her take me away from you."

"Never." The word comes out like a growl against my lips. "You're mine. Forever. No one will ever take you from me."

A car door slams somewhere nearby and reality bursts back in—right, we're not actually alone out here. Cohen pulls back slightly but his hands stay on me like he physically can't stop touching me. I can relate.

"We should head back," he says, though everything about his expression says he'd rather do anything else.. "Your mother will be suspicious if we're gone too long."

I nod, even though everything inside me is screaming at the thought of going back to that house. Back to her rules and her control and her perfect plastic world that’s always been my prison.

"What do we do now?"

"We play our parts." He kisses my forehead, then each cheek, then finally my lips like he's trying to memorize the shape of my face. "Just for a little longer. I need you to trust me, even when things get hard. Even when it seems like everything's falling apart. Can you do that?"

"Yes," I whisper, curling my fingers into his jacket. I mean it more than I've ever meant anything. "I trust you more than anyone."

His eyes go coal black at that and his grip on me tightens for a second before he forces himself to let go. But even as we walk back to the car, his hand slides to the back of my neck under my hair, his thumb stroking my skin in a way that makes my knees weak.

The drive home is way too short, and with every mile that brings us closer to the house, I feel the walls closing in. But Cohen's hand stays wrapped around mine, his thumb stroking my skin in this gentle rhythm that promises everything will be okay.

When we pull into the driveway, I expect him to let go. To put distance between us like we usually do. Instead, he brings our joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

"Remember what I said," he murmurs. "Seven more days."

I nod, trying to steal some of his certainty for myself.