Freed by You (20 page)

“And you’re burning my bacon, Mr Scott.”

“Shit!” He released me and spun around briskly, returning his attention to the spitting bacon on the hob. He moved the pan to the opposite side of the cooker and turned two knobs.

“There, problem solved. Now, where were we?” he asked as he snaked his arms around my waist and lowered his hands until they each rested firmly against my backside. “I believe you were blushing. I wonder why?” He pulled sharply, crushing our hips together then I heard his sharp intake of breath as he pushed his erection firmly against me.

“Hmm... I wonder.” I felt my cheeks warming again as my eyes fixated on his parted lips.

“Do you prefer your breakfast hot or cold?” he whispered, leaning in close to my ear before grazing my earlobe gently with his teeth. My breath hitched in my throat.

“Cold. Always cold,” I choked.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

His lips pressed against my neck as his hand slipped lower to the crook of my knee, yanking it up around his waist. He supported my weight with his arm that rested against my lower back and lifted my other leg until that one, too, wrapped around him. Kissing me hungrily, he sat me on the counter top and his hands slipped under my sweater and found my breasts. My head rolled back as he began his sensual torture on my left nipple.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you right here since the first time you stayed,” he panted between heavy breaths.

“So you can refer to it as a fuck but I can’t?”

“I think I recall my anger at your term of
cheap fuck
, Emily. I won’t object to a simple fuck.”

A burst of laughter sounded from my mouth. I wasn’t sure if it was with embarrassment or pure astonishment that I could speak so easily to him about a
fuck!

“Is something amusing you, Miss Braxton?”

“No, nothing at all, Mr Scott. Do carry on,” I snorted.

Julian stood me to remove my jeans and underwear before lifting me effortlessly and laying me across the counter top. This felt so wrong, so exposing, yet so right and so damn sexy! I impatiently pulled at his T-shirt, tugging it over his head and taking a second to admire his torso before kissing his mouth greedily.

Within seconds I felt the overwhelming feeling of his erection slowly filling me, stretching me. He withdrew slowly until only the tip of his length remained inside me, making me thrust my hips upward in a begging plea for more. One hand held my backside firmly in place whilst the other grasped at one of my wrists. I hesitated slightly; unsure of what it was he was trying to do.

“Give me your hands, Emily.”

I released my fingers from his hair and nervously held my hands still in front of my panting chest.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

I gave a single nod and his free hand clutched both of my slender wrists and raised them above my head, effectively pinning them to the hard surface beneath me. His eyes searched mine as he studied my reaction carefully. I reached my chin up towards him, inviting his mouth to mine. His lips morphed into a slow, incredibly sexy smile and his eyes narrowed wickedly.

“Now I’m going to fuck you,” he breathed.

Then he slammed into me, hard.

“You really are beautiful.”

I blushed and tried to cover myself discreetly with my arms as Julian’s narrowed eyes traced my body. As the steaming water poured down over my naked chest, I held out my hand in request for the body wash that he was smothering over his taut stomach. He handed me the bottle without protest before wrapping his arms around my waist, encouraging my back to his soaped chest. He pressed feather light kisses along the width of my shoulder.

“Why do you find it so difficult to accept a compliment?” he asked as his forehead pressed against my cheek.

“It embarrasses me, I suppose.” I shrugged.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Emily. You are extraordinary. I want to worship every single part of you.”

“Julian, please.”

“You will learn to accept my compliments. I’m surprised actually,” he murmured before kissing my neck softly. “Surely you must have been showered with compliments all of your life.”

I ignored his assumption and he turned me to face him, still holding my naked body close to his. His eyes revealed compassion. Or was it pity, I wasn’t sure.

“You’ve obviously never known anyone worthy of your beauty then.” He smiled his dazzling white smile. “Until now, that is.”

After our shower, I wrapped myself in Julian’s grey, flannelled robe and sat at the breakfast bar, flushing at the memories of my encounter with Mr Masterful – on the surface where my cup of tea now sat. Julian set about making fresh bacon, accompanied by eggs and toast, then joined me to eat.

“So, what shall we do today?” he asked between mouthfuls.

“The day is nearly over surely? It’ll be time to collect Maia soon thanks to you and your distractions,” I grinned, blushing again.

“I believe it was I who was distracted by you, Miss Braxton.” His eyes portrayed their usual wicked glint before a slight furrow appeared between his brows. “And less of that talk before I decide to try out the coffee table.”

“Are you threatening me, Mr Scott?” I teased.

“Would I do such a thing?”

I wasn’t sure my body could take anymore of Julian’s impressive length right now so I decided to change the subject – as tempting as the image of us on the coffee table was.

“Tell me about your mother.”

Was that really the best conversation starter I could have thought of? Clearly not, judging by the expression that now set across Julian’s face. His eyebrows lowered into a deep frown as his eyes dropped to the cup in his hand, his mouth set in a grim line.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now,” he spoke through a strained jaw. “But why don’t you tell me about your parents?”

Okay, I had obviously struck a nerve with that one. I decided not to push him now, not while things were going so well, but to answer his question instead.

“Not much to tell really.” I shrugged, taking a bite of my toast and trying to swallow it quickly. “My mum died when I was young, my dad did his best to bring me up on his own.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Why would you? It’s fine; I was only three when she died. To be honest I don’t really remember anything of her. I know my dad adored her. He struggled with her death for a long time, still does now I think.”

“How did she die?”

“Breast cancer. By the time she noticed the lump it was too late, it was spreading rapidly and they couldn’t do anything for her.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Julian leaned forward and cupped his hand around the back of my neck, kissing my temple firmly.

“You don’t need to apologise, Julian. Like I said, I don’t even remember her.”

I’ve always pretended that the fact my mother died when I was so young was a good thing – after all, if I didn’t remember her how could I miss her, how could I grieve for her? But, in reality, I think that very fact was the most heart-breaking one. I felt like I was never given the chance to know her, I couldn’t form my own memories of her, couldn’t imagine what words of advice she would give me about boys, about teething or nappy rash, about life. And I was just Maia’s age. I must have known that she had gone. And I must have wondered where, and why. The mere thought of knowing that I would soon be leaving Maia forever, as my mother knew with me, the thought of how she could ever possibly understand that I wasn’t coming back to her, just as I wouldn’t have understood – the thought sickened me to the very pit of my stomach. I placed my toast back on my plate and pushed it aside.

“I should never have asked, I’m sorry.” Julian’s intense eyes looked pained, all trace of heat and wanting had disappeared.

“So, my dad,” I began, releasing the long breath that I hadn’t realised I was holding on to. “He’s one of the good guys.” I beamed a heartfelt smile. My dad was everything to me and I loved him dearly.

“He must be to have raised you to be such an inspiration.”

“An inspiration?” I asked, not sure of the meaning behind his statement.

“Yes. You are an inspiration to me. As I’m sure you are to every other person in your life. You never cease to amaze me, you are so brave. It sounds to me like you’ve been through so much shit in your life yet you never dwell on it, you somehow turn it into a positive.” He shook his head, seemingly in wonder and his penetrating eyes looked straight through mine. “I’d really like to meet your father.”

“That might be difficult. When I was old enough to take on the house, he left me with it and moved to France. He visits every few months or so but he’s not exactly rolling in it now that mum’s money has all been used. Plus he struggles to get the time off work; he’s a therapist, helping kids with bereavement and abuse and all that.” I took a sip of my tea, trying to hide behind my cup to disguise the slight feeling of bitterness that must have been evident in my eyes.

“That bothers you. Why?” he asked.

Seriously, was there no escaping this man’s ability to read me so well?

“How could you possibly know that?”

“It’s written all over your face, Emily,” he stated. “You don’t have to tell me, if you’d rather not, I’m just curious.”

“It shouldn’t bother me, it doesn’t really. It’s just, um, I don’t know. He feels like he wasn’t there for me as much as he should have been when I was growing up. He blames himself for what happened to me, thinks he should have done more but he was always so busy with work.”

“And you think he was so busy fixing everyone else’s children that he forgot about his own?”

“No. He did his best with me; he struggled without mum as most men would. I can’t resent him for that.”

Every word of what I was saying made sense, and I believed it. I couldn’t figure out why I felt the bitterness. As ever-so-slight as it was, that feeling shouldn’t be there. Maybe it was simply jealousy – that he was so busy now, helping these children, that he rarely had time to spend with me and his granddaughter.

Julian placed his strong hand on my thigh and squeezed gently.

“When did he last visit?”

“Um... About six or seven months ago now, I think.”

“Can I take you to see him?”

“No. As much as I’d love for you two to meet, I just don’t have the money right now. Since I got fired.” I had been waiting for a good time to bring this matter up and now seemed like the perfect one.

“You didn’t get fired; I’ll get you another job. Where would you like to work, I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled his lopsided smile at me.

“I don’t want another job; I liked the one I had.”

“It’s not safe for you there.”

“It’s as safe as anywhere, Julian. If Jay wants to find me, he’ll find me wherever I am. Surely The Lounge is my safest option with you around to keep an eye on me.” Surely he couldn’t argue with that one? Ha!

“I suppose you’ve got a point.”

Yes! I did have a point. And a very good point at that! Thank goodness for my quick thinking.

“So, can I work tonight?” I asked, wincing slightly as I waited for his response.

“Definitely not.” His voice was back to its authoritative, professional tone that I was used to.

“Why? Don’t make me beg you. I liked that job, and more to the point I needed it! You might be mister moneybags and all that but I actually need a normal job!”

“If I may interrupt you there, Miss Braxton. I didn’t say you couldn’t work there, just that you couldn’t work there tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m taking you to France. My treat. Call your father and let him know you’re coming. Or would you rather we surprise him? I’ll book us a hotel. What area does he live in?”

“What? We can’t just go to France, Julian.”

“And why ever not?” he replied in his cocky tone.

“Because I have Maia to think about for starters.”

“Maia is coming too.”

“And what about nursery? And I’ve got college in the morning, I’ve already missed classes this week, do you realise how much my dad pays for those? No wonder he can’t afford to visit.”

“It’s just one more day, Emily. I’ll cover the cost of your missed classes.”

“I don’t want you spending your money on me.”

“I guess that’s just another aspect of being with me that you’ll have to learn to accept. As I deem myself responsible for your absence it’s only right that I should cover the cost. I just need to make a few calls, you okay here for a few minutes? Make yourself at home,” he beamed at me, his eyes alive with excitement, like a child on Christmas morning.

I couldn’t say no to him when I saw him looking so carefree, so young.

“Doesn’t look as if I have much say in the matter,” I mocked.

“Your dad’s address,” he ordered, sliding a pen and a scrap of paper in front of me.

“We can stay with my dad, it’s big enough and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” As I couldn’t refuse his offer I was determined to keep its cost to a minimum.

“I’m nothing if not respectful and I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you for a whole weekend, Emily.” His raised a single brow at me in a suggestive manner.

Okay, he had a point. I jotted down the address and handed it to him with a seductive smile. At least I hoped it was a seductive smile.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He pressed his parted lips firmly against mine then he bounced into his office room at the far end of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

I smiled blissfully and pondered on whether to call Dad or whether to surprise him. I picked up my mobile and scrolled through my contacts.

“Hey, Princess, everything okay?”

I rarely got the normal answer of ‘hello’ when I called my dad. He always assumed something was wrong.

“Yeah, everything’s great, Dad. How are things with you?”

“You sound different! What’s going on?”

I laughed under my breath at his instant suspicion. Why do dads do that? They get an unexpected call and hear that you sound happy and automatically assume that you’re up to no good! Well, I suppose I technically
was
up to no good!

“Nothing’s going on, Dad. I just wanted to call and see what you’ve been up to, that’s all.”