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Shifting, I cushion Emilia between my thighs. The feel of her ass pressed against my crotch makes my cock surge with newfound life, but I mentally berate him. This is for her, nothim.
Lifting one leg at a time, I plant her feet on the outside of my thighs, her knees bent so her pussy is on display. This is where I seriously regret not putting a floor-to-ceiling mirror in this bathroom. I’d love nothing more than to be able to stare at her pussy right now as I finger fuck it and watch the ecstasy written on her face as she comes for me.Next time.That thought catches me off-guard. Next time? There shouldn’t even be athistime, never mind a next time.
Pushing all of it to the back of my mind and focusing on the shaking beauty between my legs, I trail my fingers along her bare skin, down her soft stomach until I dip between her spread thighs. I can feel her excitement coating her thighs from Wilder’s torture session, and her shaking worsens as I slide between her folds. I’ve barely touched her when she explodes, and I press a soothing kiss to her shoulder, even while I sink easily into her drenched core. It clenches around me, the after-effects of her orgasm still going strong as I immediately begin pushing her into a second one.
Her heady moans and the way she rocks her hips and digs her fingernails into my thigh have me nearly coming in my pants. I’m two seconds away from pushing her onto her knees and taking her like a wild animal when she tilts her head up. Her lips meet mine and I go rigid beneath her touch, surprised and hesitant. She pushes harder, andfucking hell, the taste of her is too good to deny.
I lick along the seam of her lips, and she parts them, allowing me to delve in and taste her more fully. I can’t get enough as I suck and plunder, committing every inch of her mouth to memory.How the hell did I forget how delectable she tasted?Like strawberries and cream. Her pussy clamps around my fingers, and she cries her release into my mouth. I drink in every second of it. Even then, her kisses are like a fucking drug, and I can’t seem to stop, even after she’s come.
Without even realizing I’ve moved, my hands are in her hair, holding her to me as I devour her lips. Her mouth. Her tongue. When she turns over in my arms, I haul her against me, loving the way her crotch aligns with mine as she drags her pussy over the rock-hard erection pressing against my jeans.
Time loses all meaning as I drown in everything that is Emilia Harrison. It’s like we have been transported back to four years ago when, after a single touch, I couldn’t keep away from her. She’s intoxicating, and just like then, I find myself not wanting to do anything other than bask in her light.
Everything within me demands I do one thing—claim her—and I’m on the verge of giving in to that desire when she moans, “Hawk.” My name sounds so fucking good on her lips, swollen from our kiss, and again that overwhelming urge to bend her over and make her mine has my muscles tensing. However, instead of acting on that urge, I pause, staring into her green eyes. They’re blown with desire, although I notice something else. An emptiness to them that didn’t use to be there.
We both might want this—need it even—but it’s only going to create new complications, especially when she’s all stressed out over this stalker, and I’m in a war with myself when it comes to what I want from her.
So, rather than doing what every atom in my body demands I do, which is to pull her in against me, rip off my pants, and sink balls deep into her soaking wet cunt, I instead push her away. Hurt and rejection flash in her eyes, making me feel like the biggest asshole ever.
“I’m sorry, Emilia.” I don’t know what else to say or how to explain that now isn’t the time—it isn’tourtime, assuming there will ever be anour time. Lost for words and horny as fuck, I do exactly what Wilder just did and leave her on the bathroom floor like she means absolutely fucking nothing to me.
Except that’s the problem, isn’t it? She’s starting to meansomething.More than something. If I genuinely thought about it, I might actually confess that she’s starting to meaneverything.
Chapter17
EMILIA
After the fiasco in the bathroom, I’ve holed myself up in my room, only emerging to grab something to eat. Even then, each time I waited until my stomach was threatening to eat itself before I finally caved and went in search of sustenance.
Thankfully, Kai has been giving me my space, probably assuming my antisocial behavior is due to our lack of progress—and don’t get me wrong, that is undoubtedly a huge part of it. It’s hard to force yourself to get up every day, plaster on a smile, and pretend your life isn’t a complete and utter shitshow when that’s precisely what it is. I feel like I’m being bombarded from every side, and there’s no reprieve or light at the end of the tunnel.
Being cooped up in this house with no sign of being let out any time soon and having to worry about potentially running into Hawk or Wilder every time I leave my bedroom has me constantly on edge, and I can feel myself sinking into that dark hole. I like to think of myself as an optimistic person. I always try to find the bright side of things. When my mom couldn’t make it to my high school graduation because she had to work, I focused on the fact that I had my friends. When I got a B in one of my college classes—my first B ever!—I accepted it for the learning opportunity it was and ensured it wouldn’t happen again. Life has taught me that shit happens, and if you only focus on the bad stuff, then you’ll never see the good things. You won’t spot the rose in the thicket of nettles or appreciate the rare moment of sunshine on a wet, miserable winter’s day. I’ve always worked hard to spot the rose, to lift my face to the sunshine, but it’s getting harder and harder to do that these days. I don’t even remember the last time I bathed in the sun's heat, never mind letting it warm me from the inside out.
After spending the last half hour trying to convince my stomach that it’s not hungry, I give up and sneak downstairs. I don’t know if Hawk or Wilder are home, nor do I have the energy to face them. So like a thief, I pad silently through the house, crouched and on alert—and definitely looking suspicious as hell.
Reaching the kitchen without any incidents, I peer around the doorframe, checking that the room is empty before daring to venture any further. I let out a breath of relief when I find it unoccupied, and I allow myself to relax a little as I rush over to the fridge and begin piling as much food as I can into my arms.
“About fucking time you showed your face,” Kai growls behind me, his loud voice making me jump as I fail to suppress a squeak of surprise. “I was on the verge of dragging you down here myself.”
Hoping the cool air of the fridge offsets some of the heat in my cheeks, I peer around the fridge door at a towering Kai. He’s standing in the middle of the doorway, blocking my path out of the kitchen as he stares me down with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I just came down to make myself a sandwich.”
He nods, watching me pile everything in my arms until I have what I need. Taking the ingredients over to the kitchen island, I set about making the sandwich and pouring myself a glass of water. Once I’m finished and I’ve put the food away, I grab my plate and glass, hoping he’ll let me scoot back up to my room without any questions. Of course, I’m not that lucky. In fact, I’m beginning to think I’m the exact opposite of lucky. Unlucky. Fucking cursed.
“Not so fast,” Kai chastises. With a tilt of his head, he gestures toward the kitchen table. “Sit. We need to talk.”
Well, fuck. Those four words areneverfollowed by anything good.
Reluctantly, I move over to the table and take a seat, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. Nerves diminish my appetite, and I end up anxiously twisting my fingers and staring at the tabletop while I wait for him to sit down.
When he doesn’t speak up, I lift my gaze to meet his, finding him watching me with what looks a lot like concern in his eyes. “Eat.” He once again tilts his head toward my plate and waits patiently while I nibble on my sandwich. It tastes like sawdust in my mouth, and it’s a struggle to swallow every bite, but eventually, I manage to get the whole thing down.
When I’m finished, he nods as though satisfied, and it’s only when I push my empty plate away and raise an eyebrow at him in question that he speaks. “I think it’s time we talk to Mel.”
Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting him to say that. It takes a second for me to get over the surprise and hear what he’s not saying. “You’re out of leads.”
He grimaces. “I’ve looked into literally everyone associated with you. Everyone you work with, those who live in your building, and all the staff at Halston. I’ve done a basic background check on every student registered when you were, and completed deeper searches into the few you pointed out. Every person who has so much as walked past you since you graduated from Pacific Prep has been searched and eliminated. I—” He hangs his head, looking defeated. “I’m out of ideas, and I’m out of suspects.”
