Uncovered (25 page)

Pulling my hands in his, he kept his face
an emotionless mask. “I was pissed at you for lying to me, Gemma,” he started,
sending a delicious tingle down my spine at the way he said my name. I wasn’t
sure I’d ever get used to him calling me that. “But I needed to know if you
were right. After the night I confronted you, I had Easton go in and set
everything up.”

“Thank you.” I realized I was crying
again, my tears spilling onto the back of both our hands. “Thank you for what
you did for me.”

Our eyes drinking each other in, we
allowed the silence to float between us for a long time before his forehead
creased into a frown. “I know about Finley and Greg.”

Dipping my head in shame, I looked down
at my lap. He untangled our fingers and forced my stare back up. “And I’ve
spoken to Mason” he said.

At the mention of my brother’s name, I slumped
forward, hugging my arms around myself. “He hates me, doesn’t he? I broke up
his family and he hates me.” I’d felt that loathing before—for Margaret—and it
sickened me to know that the boy I’d only met a couple times might feel the
same way about me.

But then Oliver pulled me close to him,
turning my face into the soft fabric of his shirt. “He’s confused and he’s
angry, but he doesn’t hate you. He wants to meet you.” My lips parted in a
silent “Oh,” and he added, “His grandmother has him for now, but who knows how
long that’s going to last. Apparently, she cut out after Finley gave birth to
him and she might go again.”

I digested each of his words slowly,
letting the harsh reality of the hand Mason Scott had been dealt seep into my
skin. “I’ll always be there for him,” I murmured against Oliver’s chest. “And I
want to meet him too.”

“Good.” I didn’t miss the relief in his
voice, or the worry marring his bronzed features when he pushed me away and
turned my attention back up to his face. “I love you, Gemma.”

It was so sudden, so unexpected, I just
gaped at him, blinking for several seconds. “You … love me?”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s only been a
couple months or if you were Lizzie most of that time, I. Love.
You
.
I’ve known it since before I figured out who you were.”

 “But I lied to you.”

“And my mother lied to you. You did what
you had to do to fix things, and I’m doing what I need to do to fix them.”

By telling me he loved me. When I lowered
my face down to my hands again, I felt him stiffen beside me, but his next
words sounded reassuring. “Gemma, you don’t have to say—”

Reaching between us, I covered his mouth
with the tips of my fingers. “My life has been nothing but chaos the past few
days. Over the last several weeks, I went from being Gemma Emerson the escort,
to Lizzie Connelly the assistant, to Gemma the heiress.” I took a deep breath,
fisting my free hand into my dress. “And through it all I haven’t been able to
stay away from you. I haven’t been able to get you off my mind. I can barely
breathe without thinking about you.”

He closed his fingers around my wrist and
slid my hand up to kiss the heel of my palm. “This is a first for me.”

“Falling?” I whispered.

“Yes, falling. Wanting to be with someone
so much it ripped my heart out through my throat. It’s—”

When he struggled for the word, I looked
over at him, my brown eyes stinging from the tears. “Beautiful. It’s beautiful,
and I love you too.”

His broad shoulders relaxed and a soft
smile lingered at the corners of his mouth. Brushing his knuckles over my face
to wipe away the tears, he asked, “Where do we go from here?” At my silence, he
added, “Where do
you
go from here?”

I let out a throaty laugh. God, I wished
I knew the answer to that. “I honestly don’t know. I thought I’d go back to Las
Vegas. My
home
, but—”

He made a sound of disapproval. “Don’t.
Come home with
me
.”

*

When
we walked through the door of his hacienda-style home in Malibu an hour later,
every time we pulled away from each other to rip off another article of
clothing, I saw the place with brand new eyes.

I wanted this to be my home.

I wanted to forget every awful thing that
had brought me here.

I wanted to move forward, to forgive.

But first, I wanted Oliver.

As he pinned me to his king size bed, his
muscled body flexing over mine, a soft sigh drifted past my parted lips. “Please
don’t stop,” I moaned. He grazed my nipple with his tongue, and I lifted my
hips against him. “Please don’t.”

Make me forget—at least for a little
while.

“More?” he rasped against my damp flesh.

I lifted my head a little, taking in the
sight of his mouth touching my breast, and nodded feverishly. Without a doubt,
I wanted more.

Relinquishing his grip on my wrists, he
pushed himself up so that our tongues met. I draped my arms over his shoulders.
Threaded my fingers through his light brown hair while our tongues and bodies
and hearts met.

“I want to make love to you, Gemma.”

Once again, that word—my
name
—coursed
a tremor through my body.
Love.
When I came to Los Angeles, I’d never
imagined my road would end with that word being spoken to me.

“Say it again,” I whispered into the
darkness as he nudged his erection between my legs, testing the wetness he
found there. He slid the head of his cock into my body, and I cried out. “One
more time.”

“Which part?” he teased.

I let out a cry of pleasure as he pushed
himself completely inside me, clenching my sex around him. “Love,” I moaned.

“I’m going to make love to you,” he
repeated, a grin tugging his lips just before he lowered his head to kiss me
again.

Racing my hands through his hair, I
pulled his head back and his dark brows furrowed together. “And my name,
Oliver. Say that again too.”

“Gemma.” He opened my legs a little wider
and splayed his palms on my thighs. “
Gemma
.”

Lowering my lashes, I curved my body to
his, letting the mesmerizing softness of his husky voice creep across my skin
over and over. We moved together, crashing and drowning.

When the orgasm hit me, drawing a harsh
gasp from my throat, he flipped us over so that I was on top of him. With his fingers
feathering my cheeks, imprinting into my skin, we let go together, our bodies
trembling.

As we lay next to each other in the darkness,
he traced one fingertip around my belly button, moving it in lazy circles that
brought a smile to my lips.

I had no clue what would happen
tomorrow—or the next day—but I knew that the one thing I’d unsuccessfully tried
to avoid had become the thing that would keep me grounded.

That would keep me
home
.

“Tomorrow, I’ll think about what to do
next,” I finally said.

“Do you want me, Gemma?” At his question,
I turned my head to look at him, vividly remembering when he’d asked me a
similar question before.

“Yes, I want you.”

“And I love you,” he said.

“Yes, there’s that too.”

Supporting himself on his elbow, he
brushed stray locks of my hair from my damp forehead. “Good.” His blue eyes
penetrated mine. “That’s all I needed to know.”

-End-

I
want to say a big thank you to my incredible Wicked Mafia crew—Kristen Proby
and Michelle Valentine. I’m blessed to have such amazingly talented friends,
and I love you guys!

To
my “Your Toxic Sequel Support Group” on Facebook, thank you ladies so much for
making me smile on a daily basis and supporting my books.

Thank
you to my INCREDIBLE beta readers: my sister, Holly Malgieri, Christine
Estevez, Stacey Mosteller, and Stacy Kestwick. Another huge thanks to Jenny
Sims with Editing4Indies for her sharp eye and amazing patience!

To
Letitia Hasser, my cover designer … your artwork rocks my world, woman. You are
one talented lady!

To
all my amazing author friends—you guys kick ass. I’m so blessed to be a part of
such a great, caring community. Lots of love to you all.

To
the bloggers in the romance community—THANK YOU! Your support and love for my
books mean so much to me. I appreciate you all more than you could ever
imagine. Thank you for taking such good care of me and all the other indie
authors.

And
to you--thank you so for being so amazing. Your enthusiasm and support for my
books amaze me on a daily basis, and I feel so blessed to have you. Thank you
for all the emails, reviews, and Facebook messages!

Emily
Snow is 
The New York Times
 and 
USA Today
 bestselling
author of the 
Devoured
 and 
Savor Us 
series, 
Tidal,
 and 
Wrecked.
 She
loves books, sexy bad boys, and really loud rock music, so naturally, she
writes stories about naughty rockers. Visit her blog at emilysnowbooks.blogspot.com
or chat with her on Twitter @emilysnowbks for news, teasers, and contests.