All I Need (Hearts of the South) (32 page)

He’d been serious about hard, but she loved it, the power of each lunge into her, a swirl of almost-pain mixed with pleasure. This was raw and bare, a release of pent-up intensity. She could so deal with being the focus of that.

The vest made the wall of his chest inflexible, her swollen breasts, clad in softest satin, rubbing against unmovable strength. His badge pressed a cold metal kiss to the slope of her breast.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this
naked
with anyone.

Hands at his nape, she dug her nails into his skin. He gasped near her ear, that raw sound of desire like a punch to the gut. The heavy pressure in her belly and between her thighs increased, and the short thrusts kept her climax tantalizingly out of reach.

“Emmett,
please
.” She grabbed at his hair. He was holding her, controlling everything, and she couldn’t move to deepen the contact. The frustration of that only made the wanting more intense.

He shifted his stance, allowing for a deeper penetration into her body. She came, a scream torn from her throat, and a raw shout accompanied his own orgasm. He gasped, laughing, and propped one hand against the truck, supporting her with his other arm. His laughter, combined with heaving deep breaths, traveled through her body with tiny aftershocks of pleasure.

Still holding her easily against him, he nuzzled her jaw. “Love you.”

The words twisted into her heart, and she cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He rubbed his cheek against hers. “I can handle a little hurt with you. It reminds me I’m alive.”

Chapter Sixteen

For once, Savannah left the ER on time, after a slow Monday with only a trickle of cases. She slid her sunglasses on against the late-afternoon sun and descended the steps from the ER. A familiar pickup cruised into the parking lot and angled into a spot down from her own car. Anticipation curled through her, pulse picking up.

Oh, she loved seeing him at the end of the day.

He met her at the car and rested his forearm on the roof while she opened the driver’s door and tossed her bag on the passenger seat. “So I know where there’s a brand-new bed, with brand-new bedding, just waiting for us to try it out.”

“Really.” She smiled. Apparently, the house was finally ready, after a delay that had pushed his move-in date past the weekend. He’d spent Saturday packing and helping Landra run errands—including purchasing a used car—while Savannah covered shifts at the hospital. Sunday morning, he’d done church with Clark and Landra while Savannah crashed. They’d managed to catch an hour or so together before she’d been called back to the hospital. Exhaustion pulled at her, and she really needed a shower.

“Really.” His gaze gentle on her face, he brushed the hair falling loose from her knot behind her ear. “Grab what you need for a couple of days and meet me at the house.”

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and leaned up to brush her mouth over his. “Sounds wonderful.”

At home, she showered and changed, then shoved clothes and toiletries in her weekender bag. The sun rested behind the treetops when she pulled into Emmett’s drive. He’d left her the parking spot closest to the steps. Shouldering her bags and juggling a sack of Chinese takeout, she walked upstairs to the French doors and let herself in. The sharp scent of fresh paint hung in the air, and the leather couch, chair, and ottoman they’d selected anchored the living space, bare of any personal or decorative items. A handful of cardboard boxes sat in a neat line along the wall. She set the takeout bag on the gleaming kitchen counter.

“Emmett?”

“In the bedroom.”

That room took her breath, as she’d expected it would. The moody gray paint highlighted the wooden trim, framing the gorgeous views of river and pine woods. The white bedding on the dark wood headboard they’d finally agreed on after a second visit to Sundries contrasted with the deeper colors and whispered an invitation for lazy weekend mornings.

She smiled at Emmett, who was hanging fresh-from-the-cleaners uniforms in the closet. “This is gorgeous.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

She stopped at his side and peered inside the walk-in closet, where his wardrobe took up not quite half of the space, with half left waiting for her. She didn’t comment, but something about his making room for her in his life warmed her. He hooked his arm around her neck and leaned down for a kiss.

Arm about his waist, she hugged herself to him. “I brought dinner.”

“Awesome.” He dropped another quick kiss on her lips. “You just didn’t want me to make you a sandwich.”

“I’m so teaching you to cook.”

“You can try.”

On a light laugh, she pulled him toward the door, some of her weariness falling away in his presence. “Let’s eat before it gets cold. I had a granola bar for lunch, and I’m starved.”

As they unpacked containers of General Tso’s chicken, fried rice, and Chinese vegetables, she gestured at the boxes. “When did you have time to pack up all of the apartment?”

“I didn’t.” He bit into a crab Rangoon. “Those are from my storage unit.”

Leaning on the counter, she frowned. “What’s in them?”

A sheepish expression crossed his face. “About five years’ worth of Christmas and birthday gifts from my mom. She buys all this house stuff she thinks I need, right? And you know I’m about the basics. It makes her happy and this way it’s not in my way.”

“I don’t even…” She shook her head. “So why is it here?”

“There’s more room.” He twirled a finger to indicate the size of the common area. “I thought there might be some things you wanted to use here.”

“Your poor mother.” She grabbed the container of vegetables, stabbed a plastic fork in it, and headed for the first box. “Let’s see what you have.”

She unfolded the flaps to find dishes, cutlery, and glassware—classic, quality, and still in the original packaging. A laugh bubbled up from her chest. “It’s more like what
don’t
you have. Em, really? She buys you great stuff and you put it in storage?”

He settled on the floor beside her, carton of General Tso’s chicken in hand, wrists balanced on his updrawn knees. “I think she confuses me with Clark sometimes. Hell, half the stuff in his kitchen? He stole it after Mama gave it to me.”

“That would explain why his casserole dishes match your serving ware.”

“And why the hell would I need serving ware?”

She ignored him. “Look at this gorgeous pasta server.”

“Is that what that is? I thought it was an ice scoop.”

“You’re hopeless.” She forked up a couple of bites of vegetables.

They ate while she discovered more forgotten treasures in each box—picture frames, glass lanterns, candlesticks, a couple of woven throws. She set her empty carton aside and ran a palm over the velvety fabric.

“I don’t think you need to actually buy anything for this house.” She glanced up to find his gaze, soft and clear, on her face and a smile playing about his mouth. “What?”

He shook his head, still looking at her. “Just thinking what a damn lucky man I am.”

The quiet intensity flustered her, and she defaulted to smartass teasing. “Because your mama buys you things?”

He didn’t rise to the bait. “Because you’re here with me.”

This time, she reached for him, curving a hand around his nape to pull his mouth down to hers, careful of his still-healing lip. She pulled back enough to see her own reflection in his eyes. “I believe you said something about trying out that brand-new bed?”

A lazy smile hitched at his mouth. “I kind of owe you slow and easy after the other night, don’t I?”

“We’re not keeping score, remember?” She rubbed her thumb lightly below his healing stitches. “We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“Yeah.” With a quiet chuckle, he rolled to his feet and bent to gather the remnants of their dinner. After carrying the cartons and cups into the kitchen, he returned and held out a hand, then drew her into the bedroom.

Fiery rays of light danced over the polished floor. He stood before her and loosened her hair from its messy knot. He played his fingers through it, massaging her scalp, then cupped the back of her head, lifting her face to his. “You’re amazing.”

She linked her arms about his waist. Before she could speak, he brushed his mouth over hers.

“When I tell you I love you, I want you to know why,” he murmured close to her ear. His rough chuckle stirred her hair. “I know it’s soon, and I don’t want you to think it’s all about the sex, although that’s pretty amazing too.”

She laughed, despite the ache in her throat and the fluttery desire his words engendered.

“I love how smart you are.” He trailed kisses along the side of her neck, while he slid his hands beneath the hem of her shirt. He pulled back long enough to strip the thin T-shirt over her head. Lowering his head, he hooked a finger under her bra strap and slid it aside. He pressed his lips to the slight groove left behind. “And that you make me laugh.”

“Emmett…” She ran her hands up his spine, shaping muscles beneath oft-washed cotton. He seduced her with soft touches and even softer words.

“I love how dedicated you are to your work, to helping people, and that you get my being a cop.” His nimble fingers made quick work of her bra clasp, and he slid the garment down her arms to fall to the floor. He curved his palms around the sides of her breasts and brushed feathery circles over her nipples with his thumbs. She gasped, and he graced her with a lazy smile. “I love how strong you are and how soft you can be.”

“You don’t have to say these things,” she breathed. Wanting pulsed under her skin, aching desire clenching her lower belly and between her thighs.

“I need to say these things.” He tangled his hands in her hair again, holding her gaze under his, dark with emotion. “Savannah, I want to take you to bed and make love to you.”

He was already making love to her, with all those sweet words of devotion. The guilt tried to take hold, but she tamped it down.

Enjoy being with him
.

Amy’s words, and maybe it was foolhardy, but she was going to simply live in this moment. She touched her fingers to his lips. “I want that too.”

* * * * *

The west- and north-facing windows meant waking to darkness, but even so, hints of light touched the trees beyond the windows. Savannah closed her eyes again, relishing the warmth of Emmett’s body at her back, his thighs beneath hers, his arm curled across her chest, and a hand cupping her shoulder.

He pressed a sleepy kiss to her jaw, nose brushing her cheek. “Is it everything you thought it’d be?”

She hugged his arm to her. Was it wrong to want to wake up like this every day? To want a life with him? “What?”

“The view over the river.” The sun had been setting as he made love to her, casting golden light over their entwined bodies on new white sheets. Afterward, she’d rested her head on his shoulder, watching the last of the day disappear behind the trees in a wild glow of pink, gold, and orange.

“It’s incredible.” She rubbed her hand along his forearm. “The company’s not bad either.”

She relaxed into him, soaking in the sweet sense of rightness at being here, in his arms, in his bed, in his home.

Their
home, if he had his way.

That idea felt right as well.

“I think I love you.” The words slipped from her lips before she was even aware of forming them.

He stilled, not even seeming to breathe.

“What?” A shaky laugh puffed over her cheek. “You
think
you love me?”

She fought off a sudden wave of panic. Heart pounding, she rolled and pushed him to his back. She leaned over him, her palm resting above his heart. “Em, please don’t make it weird.”

“Don’t make it weird?” He laughed for real, the sound rumbling up from his chest and vibrating under her hand. His eyes glimmered with emotion, though. “I guess it’s better than you kinda want to be my friend and fuck me.”

“You’re impossible.” She planted her other hand on the mattress by him and leveraged away.

In a swift move, he wrapped an arm around her waist, tangled a hand in her hair, and dragged her down to him. His mouth devoured hers, tongue delving between her lips, until he winced and lightened the kiss. She lifted her head, his heart a hard pulse beneath her hand. He caressed the back of her head with gentle fingers, and he stared at her, his gaze intense.

“If you think you love me, Savannah, I’ll take it.”

* * * * *

“Beck, quit vibrating.” Walker braked to make the turn onto 112. “I told you, it makes me crazy.”

“Can’t help it.” He stretched out his legs, trying to dispel the energy that way rather than jittering. The move produced an ache in his injured thigh, but it was more a hey-you’re-alive hurt than anything else. He needed a call—those focused him. When they were just riding around, thoughts ping-ponged through his brain.

She thought she loved him, but what exactly did that mean?