A Beauty Dark & Deadly (A Dark & Deadly Series Book 1) (15 page)

It was a risk.  If she woke before him to find herself against his shoulder, he had a feeling she wouldn’t be ecstatic.  In fact, if she didn’t slap him, he’d call it a blessing.  And then what would happen?  He couldn’t be sure if Emmy would retreat after finding herself asleep on the couch with him, guard her heart even more thoroughly than she had been.  He didn’t care.  It was a risk he was willing to take.  He wanted this time with her, and whatever the consequences, he would deal with them.  For now, he just wanted to enjoy the feeling of a warm body pressed against his, the soothing sound of her even breathing, his newly-acquired dog asleep at his feet.  There was a good chance he would never get this moment again.  As such, he allowed his eyes to slowly close and he hesitated slightly before resting his cheek on the top of her head.  Her hair was messy, immediately surrounding the majority of his face, but he smelled the cinnamon and vanilla, and felt the soft strands against his skin, and it wasn’t long before he, too, was fast asleep.  He knew, without a doubt, the nightmares couldn’t touch him here. 

Chapter 8

            
 
The first thing Emmy noticed after she woke up the next morning was the fact that she was not in her bed.  Definitely not in her bed.  Her head was resting on something firm but comfortable, as though the formation was made exactly for her face.  There was warm pressure on her waist and she was warm.  Not only warm but cozy.  Her mind shut off, wanting to go back to sleep, so she pushed her face even deeper into her pillow and threw out her arm, hoping to coil it around something and pull it closer to her chest.  Her favorite sleeping position was the fetal position, and she liked to enhance it by clutching something, like her baby blanket or a body-sized pillow.  Her hand found something slender but when she pulled, she nearly toppled off whatever it was she slept on.  Apparently she had underestimated its weight.  Which meant whatever she was sleeping next to, with her head upon it, weighed more than a pillow.

Her eyes snapped open.

She knew.

How could this have happened?  They hadn’t even been talking last night, not that much anyways. 

She must have fallen asleep.  He must have fallen asleep.  But who fell asleep first?  And did that even matter?

She wanted to run, run, run back up to her room, slam the door shut behind her, and stay there for as long as possible.  How could she have possibly let herself fall asleep with him?  He could have done anything to her!  He could have molested her or murdered her or –

Judging by the fact that you are still fully clothed and very much alive, we can conclude that he did neither of those thing
s
, a droll and very tired voice pointed out.

Emmy continued to breathe as normally as she could, even though her heart was racing as fast as a car on a track.  She couldn’t move.  It was apparent that Jason was still asleep, what with his steady intake and subsequent release of breath, causing his chest to go up and down, her arm along with it.  She was still clutching him though her grip was decidedly looser than it had been when she thought he was still a pillow.

What did she do now?

She couldn’t just leave.  She figured the pressure on her hip was Jason’s arm, and he was holding her to him.  In fact, the more she twitched different parts of her body as though to check what position they were in, she realized her legs were entangled with his, like some sort of pretzel one might buy at the mall.  If she disengaged herself from him, he’d wake up.  There was no doubt he would wake up.  Which meant that he would see their current predicament and –

Emmy blinked.

She had no idea how he would react.  That was what she was hoping to avoid the most.  Maybe if she could get herself to fall back asleep, he could wake up and stumble over apologies and it would be him who happened upon the fact that they fell asleep together and not the other way around.  She would blush and wave him off, reassuring him that it was all right and they were both tired and it wasn’t surprising that after all of that and a warm drink of hot chocolate that they wouldn’t get drowsy and fall into slumber right there.

But she knew such a thing was futile.  Once she was up, she was up.  Perhaps she could fake being asleep.  He wouldn’t be able to tell, would he?

It was only then, as the sun’s rays cascaded through the window and touched on the two figures on the couch, that Emmy looked up and saw Jason.  This light was much more different than the firelight but just as revealing.  As he slept, he looked serene, peaceful, much younger than before.  His face was void of most of the lines that trailed on his skin and his dimples were nowhere to be found.  His lips were closed but they came together in a caress rather than a long, thin line.  There was more color in his face now.  He wasn’t as pale as he had been last night.  His hair fell into his forehead in light wisps like the wings of a butterfly and Emmy itched to touch them, to see if they really were as soft as they looked.  And, if she so dared it, to run her fingers through his tresses, just feel them on the skin between the digits.

Her face flushed at the thought but she didn’t immediately banish it away.  Not just yet.

At that moment, Jason let out a grunt and curled his arm tighter around her waist, pulling her closer to him so his chin rested on top of her head and her chest was pressed against his, her lips deathly close to the column of his throat.  Both were on their sides, his back pressed against the back of the couch, and she, teetering off the edge.  She might have fallen if he hadn’t held onto her the way he was. 

Emmy held her breath, waiting for him to notice something wrong with his sleeping quarters and wake up.  After a moment, though, she realized his breathing had never changed, and though she couldn’t see them, she had a feeling his eyes were still sewed shut.  She swallowed.  Now she was in a compromising position and she wasn’t sure what to do.  The rational part of her brain was telling her to stay exactly the same way she was, without moving, without shifting, and just wait for him to wake up.  A more daring part of her wanted to explore things she never would when Jason was conscious.  For whatever reason, the magnetic pull of her darker side was winning out, and before she knew it, she was lifting her free arm up from in between them and, after a soft bout of hesitation, tentatively placed it flat on his chest, between the folds of his robe, where the thin material of his dark grey thermal acted as a barrier between his skin.  Warmth soaked her fingers, her palm, wrapping its desperate coil around her and drew her to press down even more so she could feel his heart beating against her palm.

It was official.  He was human.

Another minute, and she felt herself relax.  He still hadn’t stirred.  Keeping her hand where it was, she decided to try something else, something dangerous, something she would never do if Jason was awake and she wasn’t as blinded by temptation as she was now.  Her heart slowed down but continued to pound against her chest.  Her breathing got shaky, and try as she might, she couldn’t quite steady it.  Clenching her jaw, swallowing, Emmy took a deep breath through her nose and then tilted her chin up just a fraction so her lips innocently brushed the side of his throat like a bee caressed a flower.  She didn’t press them down, didn’t kiss him, per se.  All she wanted to do was see what his skin felt like on her lips.  She didn’t taste him, but as she righted her head, her tongue darted to see if there was any residue of him that permeated her lips.

He sighed.

She tensed.

Had he felt her?  Did he know?

She waited another minute, but Jason still appeared to be asleep.  He turned his head and buried his nose in her hair.  Her face heated up and she wished she had washed her hair while showering last night.  Not that it mattered, of course.  He was asleep.

A bark snapped her thoughts in half, and suddenly, Jason was stretching, somehow keeping his arm still locked around her.  He was definitely awake now.

Emmy used that as a good excuse to stand up, and with a small hint of regret that she pointedly ignored, she disentangled herself from his body and stood, heading over to the backdoor in order to let out Rumpel.  He was close behind her.  When she caught sight of him, she couldn’t stop her quick laughter.

“What?” he asked in his soft-spoken voice.  His voice was deeper than normal, probably because he was still tired. 

Her eyes traced the outline of his hair, and she shook her head, looking down at the socks on her feet.  “Your hair,” was all she could say.

“My hair?”  He took a deliberate step towards her and reached out pulling a part of Emmy’s on tresses out in order to show her.  “You should see your hair.”

Emmy giggled as he released his hold on her.  He didn’t step away, though, and his eyes – those eyes she was now certain could see through the layers of her body, into her heart, through her soul, until she was stripped of everything, with absolutely nothing left – looked past his nose in order to catch onto hers.  His lips pursed into a lopsided grin so that only one dimple popped up.

“How did you sleep?” she asked him, and then bit her bottom lip.  Perhaps that wasn’t the smartest of questions, considering they had slept together on a couch and the question might have a double meaning that she wasn’t sure she wanted to discover just yet.

“Well,” he said, his voice so soft it probably wouldn’t be considered a whisper, so tender that her insides exploded with fireworks and she was suddenly happy though she couldn’t explain why.  “I don’t think I’ve slept that well in a long, long time.”  A beat, a slight cock of his head.  “Although, I should probably invest in a new couch.”

Her smile deepened as she nodded her head.

“What about you?” he asked as he stepped away from her, heading back to the kitchen to make coffee for the two of them.

Emmy wasn’t sure how to respond to that.  If she was being honest, she would have to agree with him.  She didn’t know the last time she slept better than last night with him crammed together on an old couch.  It didn’t make any sense, but it was the truth.

“Well.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder, and his eyes were the same sea-blue color as they had been last night.  “Good,” he said, sounding sincere.  “I’m glad.”

The moment Rumpel stepped back into the house a loud clap of thunder snapped at the sky, causing Emmy to jump.  She nearly let out a yelp, not expecting it to rain, let alone thunder. 

“Storm’s coming,” Jason said.  This time, he was smiling and both dimples were on display as a result of it.

Emmy shut the door and locked it, as though this was a good shield against the turbulent weather.  A firm chorus of chuckles told her Jason had seen her apply her logic and followed it too, but he didn’t tease her, he didn’t call her stupid for doing it.  And he didn’t unlock the door either.

“What do you say to pancakes?” he asked as he handed her a cup of coffee.  “I’ll make them.”

Emmy tried to fight a smile but it escaped her effort and slid onto her face.  “I would love that,” she said, meaning every word.

“Good.”  He placed both hands on her shoulders, taking her by surprise, and turned her so she was facing the living room.  Before she realized what he was doing, he gently pushed her out of the kitchen.  “I’ll take care of everything.  You enjoy twenty minutes to yourself.”

Emmy opened her mouth, prepared to argue, to offer to do something, but he was already heading back to the stove.  Rumpel followed him, dodging Jason’s legs expertly before coming to a sit.  He tilted his head up, waiting for Jason to offer him something.  Emmy knew Jason well enough to know that Rumpel would not only be getting dog food but some pancakes as well.

She sighed, deciding to concede defeat, and turned back around, wondering what she was going to do.  She could take a shower, but she didn’t want the pancakes to be cold by the time she got out.  Plus, Jason always took showers in the morning and she didn’t want to steal his hot water.  She decided to change out of her pajamas and into some clothes, killing about five minutes of the designated twenty.  Today’s outfit consisted of another pair of skinny jeans, this one the color maroon, and a goldenrod long-sleeved shirt that dipped in the front and clung to her torso without being too tight.  She ran a brush through her hair and brushed her teeth, hoping to rid herself of any and all morning breath.

By the time she came back down, Jason still refused her presence in the kitchen so she was forced to find something else to kill time.  Then her eyes locked onto that small bookshelf in the living room, and without being aware of her body’s movements, her feet led her directly to them.  She had yet to read a Jason Belmont book.  Her grandmother had been a fan of his before she passed away.  She loved suspense and mysteries, especially when they took place in a foreign country. Apparently, the books that made Jason all his money was the Stephen Carlyle series.  Stephen Carlyle was a Scot who worked for the CIA on international cases that took him everywhere from France to Russia to Japan and New Zealand.  There were nine books in the series, and while Jason hadn’t published anything since before his wife’s murder, his fans were still waiting for a new Carlyle thriller.

Emmy couldn’t help herself as she stepped onto her toes and grabbed the first book in the series
,
One Knight Stan
d
.  It was a first edition hardcover and looked as though it hadn’t even been read.  She took a seat on the couch and flipped the cover open.  When she reached the dedication page, she merely saw
,
For Stacey Foreverythin
g
.  Her fingertip traced the letters of her name.  He seemed to love her, what with the wedding picture he kept even now, the fact that he dedicated his first book to her.  What happened between them?  Why did she feel she had no other option but to cheat on him?  Why couldn’t they work it out?