Break Away (The Baltimore Banners Book 5) (15 page)

She loosened her hold on him and he pulled away. Stupid. So stupid. She shouldn't have said anything, should have come up with another answer to give him instead of the truth. Swallowing back her disappointment, Emily stepped around him, knowing their night had just come to an end.

She was a freak. Why would he want to be with a freak?

He caught her elbow in his hand and turned her toward him. She wouldn't look at him. She couldn't. But he cupped her chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

Instead of ridicule, she saw surprise. Surprise and something else, something that caused hope to unfurl deep inside her. And confusion. Yes, definitely confusion as well. "You've not—?"

Emily tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her. That didn't mean she had to keep staring into his eyes, looking for...something. She lowered her gaze and shrugged.

"Not really. I mean, once or twice with—" JP's fingers pressed against her mouth, silencing her. She waited for him to say something. To tease her, tell her he didn't believe her, ask her why. But he was silent for so long that she tilted her head back to look at him.

The breath left her in a rush, her lungs constricting as the air around her grew heavier. JP's gaze was intense, filled with a myriad of emotions, each one swirling over the other so fast she didn't understand any of them. He didn't give her time to try to understand because he leaned forward and claimed her mouth with his, soft, gentle. Seeking, learning.

She didn't want sweet and gentle. Didn't he understand that?

She pulled back, just a few inches, and gazed into his eyes.

"I won't break, JP. I need you. Now."

I need you. Now.

The words rang in his mind, a siren's song of temptation, over and over. At any other time, with any other woman, JP would have her naked already, plunging himself deep inside, searching for release. Searching for an elusive something he hadn't been able to find in the last five years.

But this wasn't any other woman. This was Emily, his
Emilie
. And her confession was too fresh in his mind—a confession that made him feel cheap, hollow. When he thought of all the things he had done in the past five years, all the nameless, faceless women. How could even think of touching Emily, when his touch would dirty her?

She was here, in his arms, her head tilted back, her full lips parted. Her eyes were wide in her face, the color so deep a blue he could drown in them. Would gladly drown in them, with no hope of being saved.

His mouth suddenly dried as her hands skimmed along his chest, her fingers trying to work the buttons of his shirt free. He could feel them trembling, sensed her hesitation and awkwardness, as if she wasn't used to undressing a man.

Merde
. She wasn't. She had just admitted that. Not since—

He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, dropping a gentle kiss on the tip of each finger before holding it against his chest, over his heart. Could she feel the steady thumping under her palm, hard and fast? He searched her eyes but all he saw was desire and need. Or was it merely his own desire and need reflecting back at him? Was he merely seeing what he wanted to see?

For the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, JP didn't know what to do. The woman in front of him deserved better than a womanizing fool. That didn't stop him from wanting her.

Emily stepped closer, her firm breasts pressed against his chest, and brushed her mouth across his. "Please, Jean-Pierre."

The soft words hurled him over the edge, pushing all thoughts of patience from his mind. He cupped her face in both hands and claimed her mouth, the kiss hard and demanding. His tongue swept against hers, seeking, possessing. Claiming.

Honorable intentions fled as desire washed over him, hot and intense. He tilted her head back, deepening the kiss, swallowing her small moans as he bunched the material of her dress in his hand and dragged it upward. His knuckles grazed the smooth flesh of her thigh, her hip. The firm globe of her ass. He pressed her more tightly against him, against the rigid length of his erection.

Need exploded inside him, powerful and hungry, urgent. He pulled his mouth from hers and dragged his lips along her jaw, down her neck to the delicate sweep of her collarbone. Her hands closed over his shoulders for balance, her short nails digging through the layers of his shirt and jacket. Too many clothes, too many barriers.

He wanted to feel her, skin to skin. Flesh against flesh. He ran the tips of his fingers along her ass, down the tender cleft, caressing the delicate folds. Hot, wet. So wet.

"
Emilie
." His teeth grazed the skin of her throat and her body shuddered in his hold. Need exploded, urgent, blinding. He reached down, his arm catching her legs behind her knees, and lifted her. A soft exclamation of surprise escaped her parted lips as she grabbed him, her hands twisting in the lapels of his jacket. Her eyes met his, her gaze soft and unfocused as he carried her through the living room and down the hall, back to his bedroom.

Moonlight filtered in through the drapes, casting the room in a soft glow. JP stopped at the edge of the bed and placed a kiss against her mouth, then gently lowered Emily to her feet. Her hands remained twisted in his jacket and she leaned against him, off-balance.

Then she looked up at him and smiled, a gentle lifting of her lips that grew wider, the brightness of her expression lighting the room, chasing away the shadows hovering around them.

Chasing away the shadows inside him, shadows JP had never consciously acknowledged.

Until now.

"
Emilie
."

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his chin as her hands eased his jacket off his shoulders, down his arms. It dropped to the floor, unnoticed, as her trembling fingers began working on the buttons of his shirt. JP stood there, unable to move, mesmerized by the sight of the woman in front of him.

The last button undone, Emily separated the edges of his shirt, her fingers grazing the flushed skin of his chest. His breath hitched, his head falling back, as she trailed warm kisses along his skin, her fingers easing into the waistband of his pants.

A growl escaped him, startling Emily, startling him. He grabbed her hand and dragged it back to his chest, holding it there while he ripped at the tie around his neck. Within seconds, the shirt and tie joined the discarded jacket on the floor.

JP pulled Emily into his arms and claimed her mouth, hard, teasing, tasting. His hands roamed her body, drifting from her back to her hips, cupping her ass and holding her against his throbbing erection. His kiss, his touch, became urgent, desperate.

He fisted the material of her dress and dragged it up, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull the garment over her head. His hands drifted around her back and unsnapped her bra. The lacy material slid down her arms, fell to the floor. Then she was in his arms again, flesh to flesh, the tight peaks of her nipples pressing against his chest.

Hunger, deep and vicious, tore through him. Her kiss was intoxicating, each sweep of her tongue against his unleashing something inside him. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and pulled the scrap of lace down past her hips, her thighs. Then he touched her, felt her shiver in his arms, swallowed her soft cry as he stroked her wetness.

His cock ached, a throbbing pain that grew with each passing second, with each touch of her. JP took a step forward, pushing her back until her legs hit the edge of the bed. Then she was falling, pulling him with her until his body sprawled on top of hers on the soft mattress.

Emily's legs wrapped around his hips and she thrust against him, his name a soft cry of need. He ran his hands along her body, cupped the small firmness of each breast with his hands, grazed each tight nipple with his thumbs.

Her head fell back, the golden strands of her hair fanned around her like a goddess.
Cher Dieu
, he wanted her. Needed her.

He pushed himself to his knees. His hands tore at his belt and unfastened the button and zipper of his pants then shoved them off. Then he was on top of her again, the head of his cock resting against her entrance, throbbing in anticipation.

He groaned when Emily wrapped her legs around him once more and called his name. He wanted nothing more than to plunge deep inside her. Over and over, losing himself.

Not yet. There was something...

Fuck. Condom.

JP groaned and rolled away from her, his hand groping blindly for the nightstand. He threw open the drawer and reached inside, grabbed a foil pack and tore it open. Emily reached for him as he sheathed himself with the condom, her mouth trailing fiery kisses along his jaw, his neck, his chest. Then she rolled on top of him, straddling him.

"Now, Jean-Pierre."

He tried to answer, to say yes, to nod. But all thought vanished as she lowered herself on top of him with one swift thrust of her hips.

Sensation flooded him. Hot, wet, tight. God, so tight. His back arched and he grabbed her hips, holding her against him as he thrust, over and over. No finesse, no style, nothing more than primal instinct to take, to satisfy.

He tried to stop, to slow their hasty movements, but Emily groaned, pushed his hands away, quickened the pace. She leaned back and braced her hands behind her on his thighs, her nails digging into bare flesh, her firm breasts thrust forward by her position.

He couldn't look away, couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful sight of the woman riding him, taking her pleasure from him. He dipped his hand between them, stroked her clit with one finger, quickly finding her rhythm. Moonlight bathed her nude body in an otherworldly glow, a play of light and shadow as her hips thrust, over and over, as her muscles tightened around him, teasing, squeezing.

Her movements turned frenzied, her breathing harsher as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. The muscles around him squeezed tighter, tighter still. A groan escaped her, a whimper. Then a cry.

JP grabbed her hips and held her to him, setting the pace, and thrust into her. Harder, deeper, as her climax exploded around him. She cried his name and collapsed on top of him, her moans filling his ear as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Not yet,
ma chère
. Not yet." JP framed her face with both hands and kissed her, hot, demanding. Then he rolled with her, tucking her body beneath his, and pushed himself to his knees. He hooked a hand under each of her knees and pulled her closer, spread her legs further apart.

He looked down, watched as his cock slowly disappeared inside her. In, out, as her muscles quivered around him. Emily reached for one of his hands, clasped it tightly in hers as her back arched.

Pleasure. Pain. Sheer torture. JP's control snapped and he plunged into her, hard, deep. Fast. Faster. He didn't know where he ended and Emily began. It didn't matter. They were one. She was his.

Harder, faster. Driving deeper with each thrust until Emily screamed his name again. Until his own climax exploded, blinding him with a shattering of lights, his entire body splintering.

He collapsed on top of Emily, her body warm and damp beneath him, aftershocks still wracking his body. Her body. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him to her, her hands tracing lazy circles along his back.

He should move. Needed to move. Emily whimpered, a soft sigh of disappointment, when he rolled to the side. He smiled and pulled her closer, tucking her against his side, and dropped a kiss against her temple. She curled into him and rested her head against his chest, her hair a silken blanket covering him.

The soft sound of her breathing floated up to him, deep and even. He smiled again, his arms wrapped protectively around her as she slept. He should cover them with the blanket, should make sure Emily wouldn't become chilled.

And he would. In just a little bit. But for now, he just wanted to hold her. Touch her. Feel her curled against him in sleep.

For just a little longer.

Guilt.

He knew he should be filled with it. Consumed with it. But he wasn’t.

JP rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand, his eyes drinking in the sight of the warm flushed body next to him. He reached out and slid the tips of his fingers along Emily’s arm. Her eyes opened slowly, blinking the sleep from their deep blue depths. Then she smiled, a lazy sleepy smile that punched him in the gut and took his breath away.

How could he feel guilty when she looked at him like that? Like there was nothing else in the world except for the two of them. Here, now. Together.

She rolled toward him, her hair fanning around her. Several strands draped across the back of his hand, soft, silky. He rubbed the strands between his fingers, smiling when the ends curled around his finger.

"You should be sleeping." Her voice was sleepy, sultry. JP leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers, breathing in her scent, her taste, her essence.

"So should you." He tucked the hair behind her ear, ran his hand along her cheek. The words were heartfelt, serious, despite the sudden rush to his groin, the sudden hardening of his cock. Christ, how could he be ready again? Four times in just as many hours, each time hotter, more intense than the last.

Like each time was their first time together.

No. No matter how ready he was, he wouldn’t use her again. Control. He knew he had it—somewhere.

"I’m not tired." Emily pressed closer, tracing a circle in the center of his chest, chasing away the tenuous hold he had on his control. He grabbed her hand, brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed the tips.

Temptation, strong and swift, warred with his control. Having Emily so close, touching him, wasn’t helping. But she needed sleep.

No, they both needed to sleep.

They needed to talk.

He rolled to his back, his arms coming around her and settling her along his side. She sighed, a sleepy sound of contentment, then rested her head on his chest. Tenderness welled inside him, the feeling foreign, opening an ache he had never wanted to acknowledge.

Yes, they needed to talk. But not yet, not now.

Guilt hit him again, born from his own selfishness. JP wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, to hold Emily while she slept. To wake to her bright sleepy smile in the morning.

But he had already kept her here too late. She needed to work in the morning. No, in a few hours. He should take her home, needed to take her home so she could get some sleep before she had to get ready.

What he needed to do wasn’t what he wanted to do.

He ran his hand along her shoulder, her skin soft and warm under his palm. JP shifted then gently squeezed her shoulder. "Emily, I should take you home."

She raised her head, shadows crossing her eyes long enough for him to see, even in the dimness of the room. Something changed. He could feel it in the slight stiffening of her body, could sense it in the way she suddenly held herself, like she was closing off part of her. She gave him a smile, just a half-smile, empty and impersonal. Then she rolled away.

Or at least, she tried to. He tightened his arms and pulled her closer, holding her in place so she couldn’t go anywhere. He ran one hand through her hair, tucking the wavy strands behind her ear. But he didn’t take his hand away, left it there, cupping her cheek.

"What is it? Tell me what’s wrong."

"Nothing."

"Emily. M
a chère
. Tell me."

She shrugged, tilted her face away so he couldn’t see. But JP was having none of that. He placed two fingers beneath her chin and gently turned her head so she had no choice but to look at him.

"Tell me."

"Nothing. I’m just being silly."

"Silly how?"

She shrugged again but wouldn’t meet his eyes. "I was just hoping to spend the night. I didn’t realize you might have other plans—"

"Plans?" Christ, did she really think—? She couldn’t. But something twisted in his gut and he realized that she probably
was
thinking the worst. And why wouldn’t she?

He pushed up on his elbows then leaned to the side, reaching for the lamp on the bedside table. Light flared around them, bright compared to the dimness that had surrounded them only a second before. JP sat up, bracing his back against the headboard, and hooked one arm around his bent leg. Emily sat up too, but she was looking away from him, the sheet pulled up to cover her. Was it his imagination, or did a flush color her cheeks?

"What plans,
Emilie
?"

But she wouldn’t answer. And yes, that was a flush fanning across her cheeks, the red more visible in the light. JP closed his eyes and tilted his head back, barely resisting the urge to bang it against the headboard.

Christ, he was a
putain de salaud
. He should have known, should have reassured her. The rumors, his reputation. Of course she would have heard, if only a few of them. And why shouldn’t she believe them?

It was true what they said. The past could come back to haunt you. Isn’t that what was happening now? Not just their shared past. His own past, too. Every sordid, colored piece of it.

"Emily, I—" He stopped, not knowing what to say, how to reassure her. If he told her the truth, it would only make him look worse in her eyes. He was sure of it. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—lie to her. "I’m not a saint, Emily. I wish I could say I was. But there is nobody else. There never has been."

"JP—"

"I haven’t been with anyone in over nine months. And I have no other plans." There was no response from Emily. Nothing but silence. He didn’t want to look at her, couldn’t bear to see whatever damning expression might be on her face.

JP ran his hands over his face, like that would scrub away the disappointment seeping through him. He had been a fool, a complete idiot for hoping…Well, he wasn’t sure what he had hoped, wasn’t ready to admit anything to himself, let alone anyone else.

"If you want, I’ll take you home." He didn’t like the defeated tone in his voice, the poutiness of his words. As much as he wanted her to stay, he wouldn’t keep her here if she wanted to leave.

He threw the sheet to the side and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his back to Emily. He heard her gasp, the sudden intake of breath sharp in the silence. The bed dipped as she moved, the sheets rustling beneath her. Then her hand rested against his back, the touch light and shy against his right shoulder blade. JP stiffened, afraid to move. Afraid to breathe.

The tips of her fingers traced the outline of the tattoo, the touch slow, gentle. JP fisted his hands against his thighs and lowered his head, wondering what she thought, wondering what she would say.

But there was only silence. Accusing. Damning. And stretching out for so long that JP grew even more uncomfortable. He finally shifted, sliding closer to the edge, breaking the soft touch of her fingers against his skin. But he didn’t stand, didn’t think his legs would support him, not yet.

"When…" Emily’s voice trailed off, softer than a whisper. The sheets rustled again as she moved, closer to him this time, the warmth of her body seeping into him. He sensed her reluctance, her confusion. Then her hand closed around his shoulder, the weight warm and reassuring as she gently squeezed. "When did you get it?"

JP pressed one hand against his eyes and took a ragged breath. He had been asked about the tattoo before, of course. Just general questions, more from curiosity. But only Emily understood the significance.

The tattoo stretched across the top right of his back, partially covering his shoulder blade, about five inches square. Angel wings, exquisitely rendered in black ink, with a single date worked into the design. Simple yet hauntingly detailed. Of course Emily would understand the significance. She was the only one who would.

JP took another deep breath. He wanted to look at Emily, to glance over his shoulder and see her expression, to see if her thoughts were reflected on her face. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, almost afraid of what he might see.

"About two months…" His voice caught and he cleared his throat. "Two months after it happened."

Emily didn’t say anything, didn’t even move. Then, just as JP was ready to stand, she shifted behind him once more and pressed her lips against the tattoo, soft and gentle, the way a mother would kiss her child. "You didn’t forget."

Emotion swept through him, biting and choking. JP squeezed his eyes together and pressed his fists against his thighs once more. He shook his head. "No,
mon ange
. I never forgot. Never."

Emily’s arms came around him from behind, holding him tight. She dropped a kiss to the back of his neck then rested her head on his shoulder, her breath warm against his skin. "I don’t want to go home, Jean-Pierre. I want to go to sleep. In your arms."

He turned his head to the side, just enough to see Emily, to see the deep blue of her eyes pulling him in. JP shifted, taking her in his arms and holding her as he fell back against the bed.

Her mouth was warm against his, sweet, tempting, reassuring. JP drank her in, seeking to slake his thirst, seeking to find himself in her touch. And when he slept, with Emily tucked tight against him, he slept without dreaming, without worry, without the feeling that he was missing something.