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"So are you," I murmured, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
We stood there for a moment, entwined in each other's arms, heedless of the rain falling around us. I held her tightly, afraid to let go. She was safe. She was here.
Nothing else mattered.
She pulled back and looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. "I was so scared, Alfie."
"I know. I was scared, too."
"Was anyone hurt? Is Cassidy going to be okay?"
I brushed the wet strands of hair off her face. "She's going to be fine. Tough as nails, that one. Like somebody else I know."
Emilia smiled at that. "I'm glad," she murmured. "I'm glad you're all okay."
"Me, too."
She was shivering, and I wrapped my arms around her again, pulling her close. The warmth of her body pressed against mine, and I breathed in the scent of her, clean and sweet. We held each other until the softness of her mouth and the feel of her body pressed against mine stirred a very different type of urgency.
I reached for the door handle, fumbling it open. Emilia hesitated for a moment, then followed me inside. We stumbled into the darkened bar.
Emilia's fingers slipped through the belt loops on my jeans and dragged my hips towards hers, and I didn't hesitate. She unbuckled my belt and pushed my jeans down. We were frantic, groping, desperate, unspent adrenaline and fear driving the need to feel another heart beating against our own. Lips to lips, breath to breath, life to life.
I leaned down and caught her mouth savagely, my hands sliding under her shirt and grazing over the hardened peaks of her breasts. I ached for her; every inch of her body begging for a touch, a taste, anything to quell the need roaring through me.
Emilia kissed me back with equal wildness. Her hands trailed down my back, sending shivers up my spine, before reaching around to grab my ass. I bit back a groan as she rubbed against me, her own need obvious. I twisted the clasp on her bra free, letting the scrap of lace fall to the floor as she unzipped herpants and shoved them down. There were just too many layers of fabric between us. I couldn't stand it anymore.
"Fuck," I groaned as she rolled her hips against mine, my cock throbbing at the contact. I reached down and hooked my arm under her leg, lifting it up and hooking it around my waist. Emilia gasped as I rocked into her and murmured against her lips.
"Need you. Now" I guided myself into her with a groan, burying my face in the crook of her neck as I slid home. She felt like heaven, warm and tight and wet, and her body trembled as I filled her. Her nails raked my shoulders as I began to move, slowly at first, savoring the sensation of being inside her. It wasn't long before I couldn't hold back anymore.
Emilia panted into my mouth, little gasps and moans that had me thrusting into her harder and faster, desperate for more of her, for everything she had to give. The bar was filled with the sound of our ragged breathing and our bodies coming together. I was close, so close, and I could feel Emilia tightening around me as she neared her own release.
Emilia moaned my name, her head falling back as she rode out the waves of her climax.
The feel of her coming around me sent me over the edge, and I followed her with a cry, my vision blurring as I came hard. I held her close, my breathing stuttering as I rode out the aftershocks. We stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, neither of us wanting to let go, hearts hammering together in the silence of the abandoned bar.
Finally, I pulled back, cupping her cheek with my hand. "I'm sorry," I said. "For all of this."
"I'm not." She looked up at me, her eyes clear and bright.
I smiled and kissed her softly. "You're staying with me tonight."
"Is that an invitation or a command?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.
"Both." I kissed her again, more deeply this time.
She leaned into me, her body soft and pliant against mine. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll stay."
sixteen
Emilia
Alfie's apartment was smallbut clean, and it smelled faintly of cinnamon and citrus. He led me down a short hallway into the bedroom. A king-sized bed took up most of the room, and there was a dresser and a nightstand with a lamp. It was a simple space, but touches of his personality lingered throughout, a framed poster on the wall for The Last of the Mohicans, and a bookshelf stuffed full of paperbacks and comics. It felt like stepping into another world – one where the harsh realities of our lives could be forgotten, even if only for a little while.
He turned on the lamp beside the bed, casting the room in a warm glow. I stood in the middle of the room, feeling suddenly awkward.
"Do you want a drink?" he asked suddenly. "I don't know about you, but I need one after tonight."
