Entice (20 page)

“That’s my girl,” he croons, fingers curled mercilessly on my hips. “Take me in you, baby, nice and slow.”

Like there’s another option; it’s a tight fit and more than a tad intimidating. I look down when I swear I feel him poking my ribs. What? Jesus Christ, there’s more.

“Relax, babe.” He catches my eyes now. “You’ve had it all before. Relax your muscles and take deep breathes. Take all the time you need.” He winks that sexy smirk, telling me he doesn’t mind the slow burn one bit. “Lemme help.” He releases one hip, the blood rushing back into the spot he’s been squeezing, and presses his thumb to my clit, moving it left then right to really get in there. Oh yeah, that instantly makes my pussy moisten, the natural lubricant sliding me further down on him.

“Yeah, Em, good girl, baby,” he groans, rubbing harder on my hot spot. “All of it.” His head falls back as my skin finally rests flush against him.

I give it a second without moving and bask in the overwhelming feeling of fullness. It’s a lot different in this position; a hard, long rod straight up in me, the hint of his coarse hairs tickling my most sensitive spots. Acclimated, I start to rock, up and back, down and forward, and the animalistic groan that rips from Sawyer’s chest spurs me on, encouraging me to pick up speed.

“Fucking hell, Shorty, you have no idea how good you feel. Ride my dick, babe, ah fuck yes, Em,” he grunts, breathing hard in and out, “ride me.” He never stops his ministrations on my clit, and when his left hand guides my hip, showing me how to roll my hips, I get this curve and pop thing going that feels like nirvana.

“Gonna, oh gonna—” I hiss through my teeth, my throat closing up as the sensation grows.

“Yeah you are.” He sits up now, sucking one breast in his mouth and biting my nipple gently. “So damn good, Emmy, let go all over me.”

And I do; grinding my clit into his thumb, wiggling around to find the right spot, and detonating like the space shuttle at lift off. “Uhh,” I moan, never wanting it to end.

It’s a whole new kind of orgasm than the last time and I feel the difference again as he thrusts up into me. Leaning over him, I take his nipple in my mouth, tugging on the silver ring there with my teeth.

“Gonna fill you up, baby.” He grasps both my hips strongly, holding me down and still, forcing me to absorb the impact of his deep, hard thrusts up into me. “Fuck, fuck,” he pants, the last sound a long growl until he’s finished twitching inside me.

I rest my cheek upon his chest; playing with the nipple ring right in front of me. He rubs my back, kissing the top of my head. We stay like that, no words, until the water starts to get a chill to it. Staying inside me, he rolls us to one side, slipping out of me then and kissing my nose. “Stay right there.”

When he climbs out of the tub, I take a moment to appreciate his tight, fine ass. I’m enjoying the view immensely, but I’m also curious—how the hell is it as tan as the rest of his body? “Do you go to tanning beds?” I ask.

“No,” he chuckles, wrapping a towel around his waist then grabbing another off the shelf. “Why?”

“How is your butt as tan as your arms then?” I pull the plug, then stand, taking his hand offered out to me.

He wraps the towel around me, downright snickering at me. “I have no idea. What about you? Your ass isn’t exactly fluorescent. Sexy as fuck, yes. Bright white, no.”

I reach behind me to lift the towel, craning my neck to have a looksee at my own rear end. Huh. I’ll be, he’s right. “Where do you come up with this stuff, anyway?” He chuckles as he asks, smiling at me with warmth and sincerity.

Shrugging, I move around him to brush my teeth and pull back my damp hair. Who I see in the mirror is a stranger, a version of Emmett Young who was only just born.

I look content.

There’s no fear or second guessing in my eyes, no hint of fraud in my smile or burden to the lay of my shoulders. My jaw is slack, unclenched for the first time in as long as I can remember, and the blush to my cheeks is the perfect shade.

Scratch that, I look happy.

“I love you.” His arms come around my waist from behind, our gazes meeting in the mirror. “Never thought it’d happen to me; maybe even thought I was making you up. Turns out you were better than a fantasy and more than I’d ever been foolish enough to hope to want. You see that absolute beauty in the mirror there?” He points and I shrink in embarrassment, but he quickly moves my face once again. “You think that’s gorgeous, you should see this.” He moves his hand over my heart. “Most determined, caring, courageous, resilient, loving person I know. And she’s all mine.”

Behind us on the back of the door are plush robes, so he grabs one, holding it open for me. I loosen the knot on my towel and let it drop to my feet, our eyes still connected in the mirror. Feeling his way, the robe is draped around me, my arms maneuvered through. Then I turn around and do the same for him.

“You ready for bed, lil’ mama?”

“Yes.” I yawn at the reminder.

“Movie?”

“Nah,” I pull him behind me, then stop waiting for his touch on my hips for my hoist into the bed, “too tired.”

He climbs into the bed, pulling me right up against his front, one arm over my waist, loosening the knot on the robe. “I couldn’t sleep those few nights, Shorty.” He nudges my hair off my shoulder then pulls the cloth off my shoulder. “I missed this.”

“Me too,” I sigh, tipping my head left to help his cause.

“Then why you’d pull back? You never really told me.”

I flip over and grab his cheeks, stroking them and looking him directly in the eye. “I refused to believe I was as great of a package as you seem to think, and I guess I’m a glass half empty girl. When I didn’t know for sure all I might lose if you ran, I could deal, pretend we had more time as friends. But once I felt you, really felt the instant you became the other part of me, thinking of how much harder it’d hurt when you ran? It shredded me; all at once I had so much more to lose. I was scared.” I pause, collecting my thoughts while sampling his sweet lips. “I thought if I gave you up slowly, and first, by the time you did leave, I’d be used to it. But then, I slept without you. I ate without you. Something was funny and I’d turn to tell you, but you weren’t there. I couldn’t do it. I’m not strong enough to let you go. I already had a “forgive me” letter written; I was gonna hand it to you and run, but then I had to call about…you know. I’m selfish and scared and new to feeling like this, but I’m hoping you’ll love me anyway.”

“You’re as far from selfish as one can possibly get. And I love you for all you are, not even though.” He drops a delicate kiss to my lips. “Never again though, Emmy, promise.”

“I promise,” I reassure him with a smile, a yawn taking me by surprise.

“Baby, I know you’re tired,” his hot breath is on my skin, “but can you stay awake for me to give you your birthday present?”

“This trip was my present. That bath was my present.”

He kisses the crook of my neck, along the slope of my shoulder, and chuckles. “Pretty sure the bath was my present. Hang on.” He gets out of the bed and goes to his suitcase where he pulls out a wrapped package.

“Sawyer, you got me too much,” I argue.

“Zip it.” He air smooches to soften the blow of his directive. “Happy birthday, Emmy.” He hands me the gift and climbs back beside me.

“When’s your birthday?”

“May fifteenth. Now open it.”

Peeling back the paper, I snicker at the excited man by my side, twitchy with anticipation more so even than me. “Oh my,” I gasp, moisture building in my eyes.

It’s a black leather journal with “Shorty” embossed on the front, accompanied by a black and gold pen.

“Sawyer,” I turn to him, not quite sure what to say besides, “thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, love. No more tiny notepads in your back pocket. You deserve a big, badass place for your thoughts.”

I go in for a chaste kiss on his lips. “You still can’t read them.”

“Dammit,” he grumbles. “I can see your nipples but not your notes?”

My head falls back on my laugh. “They’re not notes!”

“Pussy but not your passages?”

“Better,” I set aside the gifts, “but still, no.”

CHAPTER 18

The Sweetest Things

—Emmett—

T
he birthday weekend with Sawyer was the happiest I’ve ever been in my life—and way too short. Driving home, I can actually feel my mood start to sour the closer we get to reality. Not that our real life isn’t spectacular, because he makes it so, but still…

He takes hold of my hand. “Babe, we can go back soon, I promise.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Lil’ bit.” He smiles. “Here, I got something for the baby.” He releases my hand to fiddle with the radio while driving. “The book said babies can hear voices and music, so… I give you…La Baby Lullabies.”

Me, the mother, should probably think of these things, but I must confess that it does something to me to watch him get so involved, so excited at his discoveries.

The first song is slow and peaceful, something about the moon. Not bad. We smile at each other, an endearing moment of classical music that of course we both find painful to the ears, but good for our baby.

The second song is morbid, about falling out of a tree or a swing or something. “Oh my God,” I gasp, shocked someone thought this song would comfort a baby. “That’s awful. They said—”

“I heard.” He slams the “off” button. “Bastards.”

“I think Alex is a Bruno Mars baby.” I reach up, plugging in my phone and searching artists.

“Alex?” he asks, turning down “It Will Rain.”

“Cute, right? And unisex.”

Sawyer goes silent, highly unusual, and drops his shoulders. “Yeah, cute.”

“Hey,” my hand finds his now and squeezes, “what just happened? The CD was very sweet. We can try some other songs if you want.”

“That CD blew—babies falling to their deaths? Fuck Rock-A-Bye,” he grumbles, his grip on the steering wheel noticeably tightening.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Or something.”

“I guess I kinda thought we’d pick the baby’s name together,” he says softly.

Oh. Well, if a Sawyer pout isn’t the sexiest, most charming thing ever, I just don’t know what is.

“God, you’re the best man alive,” I whisper, constantly astounded by the many sides of Sawyer. “Babe, I have to call the baby something and we don’t know what we’re having, so I thought Alex was a cute unisex nickname, for now. I wouldn’t pick the name without you. Promise.”

He cuts his eyes to me skeptically, that luscious bottom lip of his pulling up in the corner. “Alex works for now.”

“You let me know if you think of something better,” I suggest, hiding my smirk.

“
S
urprise!”

I look around my living room, startled. There are no balloons and nothing’s changed, the only occupants Laney, Bennett and Whitley, who are all three beaming at us and clapping. I’m not sure what the surprise is exactly, but I thank them anyway.

“I take it we’re good?” Sawyer asks them over my shoulder.

“Yes!” Whitley squeals, jumping up and down like we just won the lottery.

“We’ll be going,” Laney says with a grin, pulling the other two by their shirts. “We hope you like it, Emmett. All Sawyer’s idea.”

Bennett nods, confirming the credit to Sawyer.

Once he’s hugged them all and walked them out, he comes back wearing a huge smile of his own. “Come on.” He links our hands and leads me down the hall to the door of the spare bedroom. “Ready, mama?”

“Ready.”

He opens the door, stepping to the side to let me enter first. “Wow,” he whistles, “they nailed it.”

Oh. My. God.

If I closed my eyes and envisioned the exact, perfect space where I would want to lay my sweet baby down each night, this would be it.

He’d planned and executed my dream nursery.

The walls are green, with various critters and trees spread around the room—a few rabbits, a lamb, squirrels and the cutest little deer. And of course, one single butterfly flying toward the ceiling, where the paint becomes a pale blue and turns the ceiling into a perfect sky with clouds. This is what our precious Alex will see when looking up, kicking those tiny feet.

Covering the line between green and blue are swirly, scripted words around the entire perimeter of the room. “Always Kiss Me Goodnight,” then a heart, “Our First Miracle,” another heart, “Wish Upon a Star.”

Sawyer’s laugher shatters my trance. “What?” I ask.

He points above the closet. “‘Play ball.’ Not one I wrote down.” He shakes his head and grins. “Good ole Aunt Gidge.”

Aunt. I never dreamed it’d actually ever be, and there it is—this baby will have a family. I will have a family, the head of it the exact man I would have hand-picked if granted a wish.

“I can’t believe you did this.” I stand on my tiptoes, curling my arms around his shoulders. “It’s beyond perfect,” I take a deep breath, hoping the word pleading to be released doesn’t send him packing, “Daddy.”

“Daddy,” he repeats me on a breath. “Daddy,” he says again, as though taste testing it, followed closely by a tender look of delight. His dark blue eyes take on an unmistakable shine and he meets my forehead with his own, grinning. “Very cool.”