Emmett (10 page)

“I'll show you how much I like it,” he breathed with a smiling threat. He whipped over onto his side, taking her with him. His strong, lean hands caught her hips and he laughed with something savage, untamed, in his pale eyes as he slid one long leg between both of hers and began to rock her in that deep intimacy.

She gasped as pleasure began to sting her body with bursts of throbbing heat.

“Did you think you could match me so quickly?” he whispered with passionate tenderness as he teased her mouth with his. And all the while, his hands pulled and pushed and teased while he invaded her trembling innocence. He watched her face the whole time, enjoying the stunned wonder of her dark eyes. “How does this feel?” he whispered.

She cried out at the shock of pleasure that came with the movement. Her hands caught at his powerful arms, but the great waves of sensation kept coming, faster and faster, his whole body an instrument of pleasure as he held her and quickly deepened his possession, laughing like a devil as he drove her down into the fires of fulfillment and watched her body splinter into ecstasy against the hard whip of his passion.

Only when she began to cry out in a hoarse, sobbing oblivion did he allow himself the delight of joining her in that lofty plane of mindless joy.

The explosions of pleasure surged through him like tidal waves, lifting, slamming into him, burning him in feverish delight. He called her name, again and again, clutching her to him as he gave in to satiation.

It wasn't like other times, other women. He shivered, but he couldn't stop. His lean hands pulled her into him,
over him, and he moved helplessly under her soft, warm body, coaxing her mouth down to cover his as he began the rhythm all over again.

She hadn't imagined what it would be like. He was inexhaustible, incoherent in his passion, but the skill and mastery were beyond her dreams. He raised her to levels she couldn't have pictured, gave her endless ecstasy, made her alternately wanton and exhausted as the day turned finally to night.

When she was too tired to turn her head to kiss him, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A sweet smell and the feel of light disturbed her. Light shone into her eyes. She put up a hand and felt the warmth of sunlight filtering in through the venetian blinds.

She opened her eyes. Emmett was holding a warm pastry under her nose, letting her smell it.

“Hungry?” he asked softly, smiling at her.

He was fully dressed and she was wearing a sheer blue nightgown. She didn't remember putting it on, but she must have. She smiled back at him. “Starved. Oh!”

She moved and grimaced. He chuckled wickedly, because he knew why she'd grimaced.

“Are you sore?” he asked with mock sympathy.

“Yes, I'm sore,” she murmured, blushing. “I hope your back is broken…”

He kissed her gently, stemming the words. “You're the best lover I've ever had,” he whispered.

“But I couldn't be,” she protested. “I didn't know anything.”

“Yes, you did,” he replied, kissing her eyelids shut. “You knew how to love me, and you did. It was the most beautiful, the most exquisitely fulfilling night of
my life. Even Mars won't be far enough for you to run to get away from me now. I've just been farther out than that in your arms.”

She sighed and snuggled closer to him. “Now I know what they meant, when they said it was like eating potato chips.” She laughed delightedly. “Oh, Emmett, I like it!”

“I'm glad. So do I.” He lifted his head and cocked a rueful eyebrow. “I suppose for a few days now we'll be good friends and companions.”

She peered at him through her long lashes. “In health class, nobody ever said you got sore.”

“That was my fault,” he said, and looked guilty. “I should have stopped after the first time. I'm sorry. It had been a long time and you went to my head. But I should have had more control.”

“I wasn't complaining,” she said sincerely. “I loved it. I'd do it all over again if I could.”

“So would I. That's the hell of it.” He brushed his mouth gently against hers. “Was it worth the wait?” he asked seriously, searching her soft, dark eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It was worth waiting all my life for.”

“For me, too,” he replied tersely. “My God, I never dreamed it would feel like that with you.” He touched her face gently. “Mrs. Deverell,” he said as he kissed her forehead with aching tenderness. “Mrs. Melody Deverell.”

She looped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face into his warm throat. “I'm still sleepy.”

Her vulnerability made him strong, made him ache with tenderness. He bent and lifted her, carrying her to the armchair. He sat down with her in his lap and put
down the pastry. Then he lifted a cup of hot coffee to her lips.

She sipped it, staring at him curiously.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked quietly.

“Stay with you.”

He smiled. “What else?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Only that.” She reached up and put her lips gently to his. “I love you so much. More than anything or anyone in all the world.” She kissed him again and felt him tremble.

He put the coffee cup down and turned her against his broad, bare chest. He held her gently, undemanding, for a long time, staring across her bright head to the window. “Go to sleep,” he breathed at her temple. “I'll hold you while you sleep.”

She smiled drowsily and curled closer to him, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

She slept and he watched her, fascinated by the color in her face, the soft sigh of her breath against his throat, the trusting, tender posture of her body in his arms. He thought that he'd never been so happy in all his life.

But with that feeling came a quiet regret that their first intimacy had been so turbulent. She'd given in to him, loved him, responded completely to his fierce ardor. He should have given her tenderness instead of raw passion. It was just that it had been so long and he'd wanted her so desperately. He couldn't hold back.

Now, looking down at her sleeping face, he felt an aching need to cradle her against him in bed and show her the most exquisite kind of tenderness.

Next time, he promised himself. The thing was, she wouldn't be capable of intimacy for several days; probably not until they went home again. He grimaced. Well.
Better late than never. After a minute, he closed his eyes and fell asleep himself, wrapped in her warmth and love.

 

When Melody and Emmett drove up at the front door of the ranch house, Guy was peering out the window. He'd worried himself sick about how he was going to keep Emmett from shipping him off to a military school. He didn't know how he was going to cope with so many changes at once. He was no longer part of his own family. Now he was going to be an outsider in Emmett and Melody's, an unwanted burden. Amy and Polk were ecstatic. They would accept Melody and love her and be loved by her. He wasn't sure that he could fit in. She might still be pretending to care about him, until she was settled with his father. Some of his friends at school had stepparents. He'd heard some terrible stories about that. Oh, why, why, did people have to get divorced? he agonized.

Melody had hugged Amy and Polk and greeted Mrs. Jenson. She came into the house, looking for Guy. He glanced at her warily.

“How are you?” she asked.

He shrugged, painfully shy. She looked radiant. It was a contrast of some magnitude to the way he looked, and felt.

“Guy. You might at least say hello,” Emmett said, interfering all too quickly, his green eyes flashing.

“Hello,” Guy replied, dropping his eyes.

Melody put her fingers against Emmett's hard mouth. “Let's get our clothes changed. I want to pass out the presents,” she said, before Emmett could do any more damage to her fragile relationship with Guy. “I brought
stuff for all of you,” she told the children. “Even Mrs. Jenson.”

“Why, how sweet of you, Mrs. Deverell!” the older woman exclaimed. She hadn't anticipated liking Emmett's young wife. But the woman was not what she expected. She beamed. “I'll just fix some coffee and cake.”

She went off toward the kitchen with an excited Amy and Polk, while Guy sat down on the sofa, idly stroking Alistair. The cat seemed to like him. It was forever following him around and purring. He was glad something liked him. Even Amy and Polk had been resentful and unkind since the wedding. He felt alone in the world except for this cat he'd been so cruel to in the beginning.

“I'm glad you like me, Alistair,” he told the tabby.

Alistair looked up with half-closed green eyes and purred even louder.

 

“You can't be cruel to him,” Melody told Emmett gently when they were cloistered in the master bedroom. “He'll try. I know he will, and so will I. You can't expect him to be instantly happy, Emmett. It's hard for him. Really hard.”

He sighed heavily, drawing her gently to him. “I'm impatient. Too impatient sometimes.” He searched her soft eyes and something alien flared in his as he touched her face. “I can't bear the thought of letting anything or anyone hurt you,” he said hesitantly. He drew her close, feeling her soft response to the words as he bent to kiss her. “I can't bear to let you out of my sight…”

She kissed him back, hungry for him because even though they'd been passionate lovers that one time, they
hadn't been able to make love again because it had taken such a long time for her to recover from his ardor that first day.

His tall, powerful body began to vibrate, to harden. “I want you,” he choked, and his mouth became insistent.

“Tonight,” she promised, smiling at him. “Oh, Emmett, tonight…!”

 

When they rejoined the family, several hectic minutes later, Melody was flushed and shy and Emmett was grinding his teeth. But he looked at her with wonder and delight. It got better and better, he thought. The walls were thick, but she was still a little shy. He'd have to have a radio on or something tonight. Tonight. His body began to throb and he went off into the kitchen to see about coffee.

Melody passed out presents: a set of Mexican coins and a cup and string-tied ball toy for Amy; a book on the Mayans and a few replicated artifacts for Polk, who seemed bent on being an archaeologist. And for Guy, a serape and a pocketknife with a hand-carved handle.

Guy was speechless. He'd wanted a pocketknife of his own for ages, because he loved to whittle things out of wood. He was forever borrowing his father's. Melody had noticed. Imagine that, he thought regretfully. He'd been terrible to her, but she'd gone to a lot of trouble to buy something he really wanted.

He looked up at her, shyly.

“Do you like it?” she asked, frowning. “I wasn't sure…”

“It's great!” he said slowly. “Thanks.”

“Don't abuse the privilege,” Emmett told him firmly.
“You can't use it to carve your initials in the walls or make devices of torture to use on unsuspecting tourists.”

Guy grinned. “Sure, Dad.”

It was the first time he'd seen the boy smile in weeks. He glanced at Melody and nodded. She'd known, and he hadn't, the way to his son's heart. He had a lot to learn about his own children and his new wife.

Amy tugged at his sleeve. “Emmett, it was very nice of you to think of us on your honeymoon,” she said, smiling radiantly at him.

“It sure was!” Polk enthused. “Look at this
atl-atl,
” he said, displaying the use of the Aztec throwing stick that looked something like an arrow on a slab of bamboo. “Ancient Aztecs used to hunt with these, did you know?”

“I know about dinosaurs and Pleistocene animals,” Emmett corrected him. “My minor was paleontology, not archaeology.”

“Archaeology is a branch of anthropology,” Polk said authoritatively. “I'm going to study it when I get out of high school. Just think, Dad, maybe I'll be the one to find the first
Homo erectus
remains in the United States!”

Emmett frowned. “There's no proof that
Homo erectus
ever set foot here.”

“Yet,” Polk said. And grinned.

Amy tugged on Emmett's sleeve again. “Emmett?”

“Hmm?” he murmured, still distracted by Polk's question.

“Are you and Melody going to have any babies?”

Emmett stared at her. “What?”

“Babies. You know. People have sex and they get babies.” She grinned. “I learned about that on television. There was this movie and it showed what people do in
bed together.” She frowned. “Do you and Melody have sex?”

Melody went scarlet and Emmett actually blushed.

“Shut up, Amy!” Guy muttered. “Honest to God, are you ever going to grow up? Come on, let's go outside and play with Polk's
atl-atl.
”

“It's mine! I didn't say you could play with it!” Polk raged, his glasses sparkling.

“I'll let you see my knife,” Guy offered.

The smaller boy hesitated. “Well…”

Guy put an arm around Polk and led him toward the door. “Just think, Polk, I can whittle arrows for that
atl-atl.
If we set up a fort just down past the barn, we can lie in wait for that nasty-tempered old bull…”

“You shoot one arrow at that bull and I'll stop your allowance forever!” Emmett called after them.

“Aw, Dad!” Guy groaned.

“I mean it!”

Amy went with the boys, glowering at her father. “Emmett, you're not the same man since we moved down here. You never let us have fun anymore.”

“Considering what you people call fun, it's a miracle I haven't had to bail all three of you out of jail!”

Amy just shook her head and went out behind the boys.

“See?” Melody told him. “Guy will come around. It will take time, that's all. He's already loosening up, didn't you notice?”