“And you have me guarded around the clock. I do think this makes the idea of this new clothing and makeup line all the more important. It’s—”
I blink and I’m on my back with him on top of me. “I want to hear about it, but not now. Right now is about us. I almost lied to you. I walked down the hallway to the apartment, thinking of things I could tell you that you’d believe.”
“Why didn’t you?
“Because your honesty about your feelings, about your mother and stepfather, unraveled what might have been my lies. We aren’t them. I won’t let us become them. And I have never needed anyone the way I do you right now.”
“I need you too,” I whisper, and a frenzy of undressing follows until we are naked on the couch, me straddling him, his hand in my hair, dragging my mouth a breath from his.
“I need to taste like you, and smell like you, and feel your skin everywhere against mine,” he declares, his voice roughened with passion.
Heat rushes through me, my sex clenching his cock, his name whispering from my lips. “Shane, I—”
He kisses me, a deep ravishing, hungry kiss that borders on desperation. I do not believe I fully understand it, but some part of me knows that it’s telling a story that is dark, hard, and passionate, in ways I need to reveal. And while yes, those things are about us, I believe they are more about him, and where he feels he is being pulled, and that I cannot, under any circumstances, let him go.
SHANE
Saturday proves to be typical of Colorado, with the snowstorm gone, temperatures in the sixties, and plenty of time for Emily and me to try to put the last seventy-two hours out of our minds. We walk the city, shop, talk, and buy furniture. In between it all, we stop for coffee, and I tell her all about Mike, my father, and the win of having him on my side, despite the way it’s come about. It’s news she celebrates with me, and hours later, we order takeout, settle onto the couch in my office, and get lost in developing a new fashion brand for Brandon Enterprises. When we’ve finished our takeout, I pull her beneath me on the couch.
“This is a brilliant idea.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes. I do. And I should have thought of it myself. I want you to run this division.”
“Shane—”
“I really want you to run it. You thought of it. I’ve listened to all of your ideas. This is your baby and you deserve the credit and the creative control.”
“Can we do it together?”
“We can do everything together as far as I’m concerned. You know everything now, Emily. I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I was just trying to protect you. I’ll get you the name of an analyst to contact about reviewing the companies you’d like to look into acquiring.”
I kiss her then, and it’s a long time before we start back to work. And for the rest of the day I make sure I tell her she’s beautiful. I tell her she’s mine. Before, after, and during moments I have her naked. What I don’t tell her is that I love her. It’s there. It’s between us and I know she feels the unspoken words as I do, but I need to deserve her when I say them. And right now, there is a war raging not just with my family, but within me, between good and evil. I have to end Adrian Martina’s control of my family, and I’ve learned a lesson. I can’t think like me, like the way I used to. I have to think like my father. I have to think like Martina himself. I have to do whatever it takes to win, and in the process, I have to keep from lying to Emily about what that means. Because lies do destroy.
Come Sunday morning, I wake with her pressed to my side, and I lie there, staring at the ceiling as the sun comes up, thinking of the loss of my law career, the loss of her schooling that somehow led us to each other. “Penny for your thoughts,” she says, proving she’s as awake as me.
Having no desire to start her day thinking about law school, I reply with my belly, not my brain. “I’m thinking I want pancakes, then you,” I say, rolling her to her back. “Actually, amend that to you, pancakes, and then you again.”
My cell phone rings and we ignore it, which is easily done considering we’re both already naked. A good hour later, we split my pajamas between us—her in my shirt, while I slip into my pants—and head to the kitchen, where we dive into the job of pancake making. Emily is managing the batter on the stove, and I’m making us both coffee when the doorbell rings.
Emily abandons the stove and faces me. “Seth?” she asks, hugging herself, already looking worried, and I hate that I can’t take away her fear that the Geminis will one day find her, no matter how hard I try. It will always be there in the back of her mind.
I step to her and cup her face. “Stop fretting. Seth wouldn’t show up on a Sunday unannounced. Housekeeping stops by on the weekends.” I kiss her and my nose twitches. “I smell burning pancakes.”
“Oh dang it.” She turns to the stove and murmurs something not very ladylike that still manages to be adorable coming from her, and I’m laughing as I reach the door, only to have the bell ring again.
“Shane!” she calls out. “You have no shirt on!”
“Because you’re wearing it!” I call back, opening the door, taken aback to find my father standing there in yesterday’s suit, his tie in his pocket. He eyes my chest, his lips quirking with surprisingly good humor, before he says, “I smell pancakes.” His nose twitches. “Burnt pancakes. That’s no way to keep a woman, son.”