Unbroken (25 page)

The wind is blowing flat out now, sending rain in horizontal slashes across the street, and bending the trees almost double. A newspaper stand suddenly flies down the sidewalk, bouncing past the car and slamming hard into the wall with a crash. I jerk back in my seat, my heart skipping a beat. It’s crazy out there now: going into full-on hurricane territory, but I still don’t quit. I drive every street in town, desperate to find him.

I don’t care about the storm, or my wet clothes, or anything except looking Emerson straight in the eye and telling him I love him—and that I’m not giving up this time.

My determination grows, but there’s still no sign of him, until eventually, I take the turn-off to head back to the beach house. Maybe he didn’t even stick around in town; maybe he got the hell out, away from the storm, like any sane person would.

It’s too late to even think about taking that exposed coastal highway, so I drive back to the house at a snail’s pace, flinching every time I hear the trees crack and sway above the road. The street here is already messy with broken branches and debris blow in from the beach, but I make it to the turning OK. Then I find a downed tree: the long truck splayed right across the road. There’s no driving over it; my Camaro won’t make the obstacle.

I pull over at the side of the road and quickly grab my purse from the backseat. I get out, and clamber over the tree, scraping my hands on the bark, but making it over OK. The beach house is just a little ways further, and I fight my way through the rain, struggling to stay upright against the powerful gusts of wind. Grandpa built a storm cellar in the basement, and I know, I just have to make it a little further to shelter, safe from the winds.

And then I see it: the distant flash of blue. Emerson’s truck, in the driveway.

My heart leaps.

I fly down the rest of the road, skidding in the mud as I race up the drive. “Emerson!” I scream, my voice lost in the wind. “Where are you?!”

I try the front door, but the house is still locked tight like I left it. I circle the house, wondering where he could possibly be. Then I see the door to my photography shed flung wide open. I race over, just as Emerson emerges.

He’s soaked through, fighting against the storm, clutching a box and handfuls of my black and white prints that scatter and whip across the yard in the wind.

“Emerson!” I cry.

He looks up, and his jaw goes slack as he sees me.

“Jules!” he yells back, struggling to be heard. “What the hell are you doing here? You need to get inside, now!”

I shake my head, coming closer. “I know!” I scream. “About my mom, and the letter. I know why you left!”

Emerson goes still. He stares at me, rain dripping down from his hair and running down the strong, chiseled planes of his face. His eyes meet mine, and I see realization flare, deep in those beautiful blue pools.

“I know everything!” I yell again. “It’s why you left me, isn’t it? Because she asked you to.”

Emerson closes his eyes a moment, and when he opens them, the fierce devotion there takes my breath away. “She was right!” he tells me, “You deserve more than this!”

“Stop saying that!” I yell. I lunge forwards, taking hold of his arms, gripping him tight as I stare intently up at him. His skin is chilled, but the body beneath that soaking shirt is hot, radiating a warmth that burns right through me.

“I love you!” I yell, pouring my heart into every syllable. “All I ever wanted is you! I came back for you, I won’t let you push me away again. I still love you!”

Emerson stares back at me, his expression gripped with anguish. I can see the war raging in his eyes between the truth he’s told himself for so long, and everything I’m saying now.

“You don’t mean it,” he shakes his head, trying to break away. “You can’t!”

“I do!” I yell, holding him tighter. The storm is raging around us, and I’m wet through, but it’s nothing compared to the whirlwind of emotions beating hard in my chest. “Believe me!” I insist, blinking rain and tears from my eyes. “You made the choice for me, four years ago. Well this is my choice!”

“Tell me!” I demand, so close now. “Tell me how you feel, for real this time. No lies! Because whatever happens, I’m yours. I’ll always be yours!”

This time, my words break through. I see the last defenses in his eyes come crashing down. With a growl, Emerson throws the box to the side and sweeps me into his arms.

“I love you.” Emerson chokes out, his voice thick with passion. “I never stopped loving you! Not even when you were gone, not one single day.”

His lips crash against mine with the force of a thousand hurricanes as he clutches my body against his chest, tangling his fingers through my wet hair, and claiming me with a heart-stopping, life-changing, all-consuming kiss.

I cling to him with everything I have, opening my mouth to him, drowning in the dizzy sensation of his mouth on mine. The storm fades around us, until he’s the only thing left in the world. I can hear nothing but the thunder of our heartbeats, feel only his arms locked tight around me; taste only him.

He’s mine.

Emerson surrounds me, enfolds me, and I give him everything, showing him the depth of my emotions until we surface, gasping.

“You came back for me…” Emerson whispers, full of wonder. He cups my face with infinite tenderness, a look of sheer amazement in his eyes. “I can’t believe you came back for me.”

“Always!” I promise fiercely.

I reach for him again, but suddenly, there’s a deafening crack, and a shot of lightening splinters from the sky, hitting one of the trees in the yard.

“Get back!” Emerson yells, hurling himself in front of me and pushing us back. The tree sounds a creak, and then falls, slamming to the ground just inches from where we were standing.

I clutch him in panic.

“Into the house!” Emerson orders.

“The storm cellar!” I yell. “This way, come on!”

“But your photos…” Emerson looks around. The prints are whipping in the wind around us, confetti in the storm.

“There’s no time, come on!” I grab his hand and pull him after me, racing back across the yard and over to the cellar door. It’s rusted and old, but Emerson heaves it open, and pushes me inside before following and slamming the door shut above us, plunging us into dark.

He bolts it shut, breathing heavily. “Your grandpa built it pretty solid. We should be safe here until the storm passes.”

I feel for the light switch on the wall, but when I flip it, nothing happens. “Nobody’s been down here in years,” I say. “Wait, there should be a flashlight and supplies down here somewhere.”

Emerson uses his cellphone to light the room with an electric glow. I look around. There’s a narrow futon in the corner, and some old canned goods stacked beside a truck. I open it, and find candles and matches inside, with an old woolen blanket. I throw the blanket over the futon, and light the candles, bathing the room in a dim, flickering glow.

“Cosy,” Emerson grins, and in the candlelight, I see his eyes on mine, dark with meaning. I feel a rush of emotion—and anger.

“What were you even doing out there?” I demand, realizing for the first time how dangerous it was for Emerson to be outside. I feel a chill of fear, just thinking about it. The lightening, the tree… To have come so close to being reunited, only to have him torn away! “You could have been hurt, or worse…!”

“Your photographs,” he answers. “I know how much they mean to you. I didn’t want you to lose them.”

“I don’t care about the photos, I can print new ones!” I cry, “I can’t find another you!”

My voice is frenzied in the small cellar. Right away, Emerson is by my side again, holding me close, stroking my hair as he whispers, “Shh, it’s OK. I’m here. Everything’s going to be alright.”

I melt against him, holding tight. How could I have come so close to losing this? To just packing up my car and driving away, as if I’d ever find another man like him.

As if I’d ever find a love so true.

I lift my head. “Promise me you’ll never push me away again,” I demand. “I mean it, Emerson, whatever happens, we face it together. I can’t take losing you, not again.”

“I promise,” he swears, and I can tell from the intensity in his eyes, he means every word.

“Because I’m not leaving you,” I vow. “Nothing you say will ever make me turn around and walk away. I’m yours. Forever.”

“Forever,” his whisper echoes my promise, and then his lips find mine in a tender kiss.

I fall into him, Emerson’s tongue making a slow, languid discovery of my mouth while his hands gently trace outline of my jaw, down across my shoulders and each arm. Then he pulls back, his eyes finding mine before he lifts my hands to his lips, pressing a kiss on each knuckle in turn, and all the while never once breaking his gaze: dark and passionate, and full of intent.

Desire flares through me.

I reach for him again, this time kissing him hot and fierce, burying my fingers in his hair and arching up against his body. I want all of him, everything, for our bodies to seal the sacred pact we’ve made with words. I feel him hard against me, and I gasp, heat pooling low between my thighs. Emerson groans, suddenly gripping my ass and lifting me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. He backs across the cellar, collapsing down on the futon so I’m straddling him on his lap.

I grind against him, kissing down his neck as I greedily run my hands across his chest, clawing the wet shirt away from his skin and tearing it over his head. This is it, right here: everything I ever wanted.

How could I have ever thought I could be without him?

Emerson’s hands are heaven as they blaze across my wet skin. He rips away my hoodie and tank, pulling my damp bra aside to close his mouth, hot around my breast. His tongue rasps across my nipple, and I cry out, closing my eyes in ecstasy as I arch again, thrusting madly against his lap, desperate for the friction to ease the ache that writhes at the very heart of me.

Only Emerson can do this to me. Only Emerson can ever satisfy this wild desire.

He finally lifts his head from my breasts, gasping, and lifts me off his lap, setting me down on my feet again. My legs are so weak with desire I have to clutch his shoulders to stay standing as he undoes my jeans with sure fingers, and then inches them down over my legs, wet and sticking to my skin. He rests his forehead on my bare stomach a moment, breath hot against my panties, and every new exhale sparks shivers of longing through my system. The electricity spirals and swoops, setting all my nerve-endings on edge and shooting back to center on one small, aching point between my thighs.

I let out a desperate moan, and Emerson tugs my panties down. I sway against him, closer, and then he touches his tongue against me, the warmth sending a shudder through my entire body.

Oh my God!

He licks at me, swirling his tongue softly around my tender core until I’m sobbing and helpless, totally undone. Then he grips my thighs and lifts me, turning to lay me down on the narrow futon. The mattress is ancient, and creaks in protest, but I’m too far gone to care.

The hurricane rages on overhead, but right here, we’re in the eye of the storm. Nothing but the two of us, and this love burning, bright between our bodies.

Emerson strips off his jeans and underwear, then kneels on the bed beside me, totally naked. I rise up and take his face in both hands, landing a dozen tiny kisses on his brow, his nose, his glorious cheekbones. My heart leaps at the sight of him poised over me, his taut muscles glowing golden in the candlelight. God, I could look at him forever, just drinking in the magnificent curves of his torso, like a Greek statue, made flesh…

Look later,
an aching voice whispers.
Now, you need to feel him. Every inch.

I lay back, pulling Emerson down with me as I spread my thighs wider for him. He braces himself above me, and I arch up, breathless, waiting for the rough slam of his body invading mine, but then Emerson stops, pinning my hips down and holding me in place, out of reach. I let out a cry of confusion, but he holds back, dropping his lips to meet mine so tenderly, it takes my breath away.

He enters me slowly, inch by tortuous inch.

“This is my favorite place in the world,” Emerson’s voice is low, thick with desire. “Right here. In you.”

I gasp, feeling him slide inside me, filling me up, making my blood boil and my veins itch with a thick, velvet longing. I whimper, overcome with pleasure, my body clenching around him, drowning in sensation.

“Jules,” he whispers, low and aching, and when I open my eyes, I find his face above mine: his gaze fixed, blazing deep into me. “Stay with me,” he gasps, eyes not wavering from mine as he slowly withdraws, and then inches back inside me.

I moan, gasping for air. The pleasure is rising in me, circling higher with every long, slow surge. I writhe beneath him, wrapping my legs around his thighs to give him deeper access as we find our rhythm, rocking in slow, mindless strokes that set every nerve ablaze, a dark fire licking up my body, dancing across my skin.

It’s exquisite agony, the thickness sliding deep inside me, the damp, hot slick of his body against mine. Emerson groans my name, over and over, capturing my lips again in searing kisses that smooth away every cruel word we’ve ever said; all the years of heartbreak. The past melts away under his touch, leaving nothing but right here. Now.