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River’s situation had been handled a little over a week ago, by Sophia no less. We’d set up a fake meeting between River and Thomas, hoping to catch him, however, it blew up in our faces. Somehow, he’d discovered our plan, so while we were waiting for him, he showed up at River’s store with a gun. I thought for sure Rico was going to have a stroke when Fia called and told him what she saw. Then when she said she loved him and hung up the phone, it took everything Alec and I had to restrain him while Gabe drove like a bat outta hell back to town.
Luckily for everyone involved, the only one who was injured was the bad guy, who incidentally had been clocked upside the head with a lamp by Fia. I couldn’t have been more proud of her that day, personally. She’d battled her way past her demons, becoming not only a champion, but a hero.
Looking at my watch, I noticed there was still two hours until the dinner from hell was set to begin, so I decided to wash off the day. After laying out my pants and dress shirt for the evening, I walked inside the en suite bathroom, reaching into the glass-enclosed shower to flip the nozzle on full blast before stripping down.
Steam began to billow over the top within seconds, fogging the mirrors above the Jack and Jill sinks. Stepping inside, I turned and bowed my head, allowing the pulsations of the showerhead to pound the tension out of my muscles. As much as my body began to relax, my cock had other plans. The slow-and-steady approach I was taking with Emory led to more cases of blue balls than I’d ever experienced. It was no wonder that after witnessing her enthusiasm and sheer joy over a simple carriage ride, I was now jerking off while she slept a few doors down.
I bit my lip to keep from groaning as I worked my hand roughly up and down my shaft. Images of Emory flashed through my mind, but it was the thoughts of her radiant smile while on her knees in front of me which had me coming hard against the wall.
Once I caught my breath, I quickly scrubbed my body, rinsed, then dried off. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I wandered back into our room. The door swung open before I had a chance to lock it, with a wide-eyed Emory standing just inside the threshold, her gaze locked on my bare chest.
“Oh my God,” she stammered. “I’m so sorry. I should have knocked.”
I closed the distance between us before she had a chance to retreat and shut the door behind her. Taking her hand in mine, I pulled her across the room to the bed and gently pushed her to sit on the edge.
“Why would you knock, babe? It’s your room.”
Her eyes drifted to the side, a telltale sign she was uncomfortable.
“It’s actually not,” she started. “My old room, that is. The family rooms are on the second floor.”
My nostrils flared, as did my temper. I knew things between Emory and her family were turbulent, but I’d stupidly made the assumption they’d at least want her to be comfortable when she came to visit. The less-than-lukewarm welcome from her parents should have been my first clue that these people were anything but considerate.
“Your parents are assholes and you still don’t have to knock.”
She grinned as I sank down on the bed beside her, only to have it turn into a frown when she caught a glimpse of the pink scar bisecting my chest. Without hesitation, her finger began to trace the old surgical wound lightly, as if the slightest pressure might still cause pain.
“Gunshot wound,” I said.
Her eyes, now shining with unshed tears, flickered to mine, while her finger continued to travel up and down the incision site.
“River told me the story,” she cleared her throat of the emotion trapped within it. “You almost died.”
“I’m too stubborn to die.”
Shaking her head from side to side, a tear fell from her lashes as she lost control over the feelings she’d worked to contain.
“Don’t say that.”
“Babe.” I took her face in my hands, wiping the wetness away with my thumb. “It happened. I’ll always have the reminder, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a distant memory.”
My lips brushed hers once, meaning to keep the embrace short and sweet, but her whimpered response broke my resolve. I kept one hand on her face while the other fisted her hair, tilting her head to the side as I took her mouth in a bruising kiss. Her hands pressed into my chest, curling until I felt the sharp edges of her nails against my skin. Tongues twirled. Teeth clashed.
If my annoying conscience hadn’t been yelling in my ear to slow the hell down, I’d have thrown her on the bed and finally made her mine. I was head-over-heels in love with Emory Daubson and come hell or high water, she’d know exactly how I felt about her the minute we got back to Mountain Grove. As soon as I came clean about everything and prayed to all things holy I hadn’t fucked everything up.
Easing back, I combed my fingers through her long hair, trying to untangle the mess I’d made. Her eyes, which had remained closed, slowly blinked open as a crimson blush made its way up her cheeks.
“Do you need to shower and change before dinner?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“All right.”
Neither of us moved, content to stare into each other’s eyes. She sighed, then finally stood, picking up her overnight bag and disappearing into the bathroom. I sat on the bed a few moments longer, willing my dick into submission before I got dressed and mentally prepared for the shitshow ahead.
Emory was still in the bathroom when I finished, so I headed downstairs to give her some privacy. Senator Daubson and, who I presumed to be Maxwell, were sitting in the living room when I approached. The younger man was exactly as he appeared in the pictures I’d seen. Shorter than me, a little round in the middle, with a bad comb-over job to hide the fact he was prematurely balding. They each had a glass in their hands and were casually sipping an amber liquid.
“So you’re Luciano del Toro. My father was just telling me about you.”
