Her muscles clamped down on him, raw silk, alive with heat and fire and something much, much more. He didn't know what she did to him, only that when he was deep inside her she took him all the way in, to someplace far beyond what he'd ever known or imagined. He heard her soft cries, knew there would be no holding back, and he let himself go, giving himself up to the sheer ecstasy her body provided. He emptied himself into her, feeling the earth-shattering orgasm ripping through her body, through his, so that for that never-ending moment stolen in time, they were one body, one soul.
Jake stayed draped over her, still deep inside her, spent, fighting for air, his body sated and limber, stretched out across hers, his arms caging in her head while he buried his face in the softest part of her neck. His eyes burned, his body shuddering. He held her tight to him, his lips pressed against her pulse while she wept for him. If this was love, whatever was between them, he had no intention of ever losing it.
"Jake." Emma untangled her fingers from him. His face was wet against her neck. She stroked caresses over his head, not wanting to make him move, but barely able to breathe with his weight pressing her into the wood of the desk. "Are you all right?"
He lifted his head, his hands framing her face. He looked stricken and his eyes seemed wet, but she couldn't tell if there were tears.
"I swear, Emma, every time I'm in you, the fucking earth moves." He lowered his head and kissed her. Not one of his usual demanding, take-charge kisses, but a long, lingering, tender kiss that left her weak and shaken.
Jake carefully slid his body from hers, helping her to sit on the edge of his desk. His hands steadied her as she swayed a little. "Can you stand up, Emma?"
"Jake?" Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and used him to pull herself into a standing position. She stood, swaying against him, afraid her legs wouldn't hold her. "Next time, I want a bed. I mean it. No floors, no outdoors, no desks--an actual bed."
He laughed softly and hugged her to him. "That's a promise."
She lifted her face for another kiss. "Sex with you is an adventure, but I'm thinking I might be getting too old for it. Give me a mattress and I'll be a happy woman." She looked at the bathroom door. It seemed miles away. "You're going to have to carry me."
"What makes you think my legs are working?" he demanded, cautiously straightening to his full height. His golden eyes searched her face. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
She smoothed the lines of anxiety from his face. "I'll let you know when you've hurt me, Jake." She slid her arms around his neck and held him to her. "I'm not going anywhere."
"You should, Emma." He buried his face in the fall of silken red hair. She smelled of sex and essentially Emma. She smelled like his. "Why don't you want to marry me immediately?"
Emma sighed, savoring the feeling of his body against hers. "Because you still think you have to trap me into staying, Jake. How are you going to believe I love you and accept who you are if you can't trust in me? If you can't accept who you are and believe you're worth loving?"
He swung her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. "You don't have their blood running in your veins like I do. It's hard to trust myself when two monsters made me."
She tilted her chin at him. "Yes, I do have bad blood running in my veins. My father was Trent's nephew. He went to the rain forest to find a woman, seduce her, bring her back to the States and sell her. I don't really think my bloodline is all that much better than yours. And as Trent was very willing to rape me that night, and watch someone else rape me, I'm thinking he's right up there with your enemies."
She smoothed his hair and leaned into him to brush kisses along his jaw and the corner of his mouth. "You made something of yourself, Jake, because you had a code and you've always lived by it. You're strong and you're good and so is that part of you that is your cat. The traits you don't like in yourself will always be there, and like the rest of us who have undesirable traits, you'll have to find a way to overcome them on a daily basis. That's what the rest of the world does."
"You make life seem good, Emma, and it really isn't. You need me to protect you from yourself, otherwise people like Trent--like me--would eat you alive." He set her down in the large, tiled shower.
"As long as it's you," she agreed and went back into his arms.
18
KYLE was officially her son! Emma danced around the kitchen before flinging herself into Jake's arms, nearly knocking him over as he stood smiling at her. A courier had delivered the papers from the lawyer's office in the late afternoon and Emma had burst into tears when she saw the official record.
"I can't believe you managed to do this so fast, Jake. You're a miracle worker. I just signed the papers a couple of days ago."
"I knew it was important to you, honey, and there was no reason to delay it. Fortunately the judge saw it the same way." Jake held her in his arms, using his fingertips to brush the tears from her eyes. He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'd like to stay and celebrate with you, but I have to fire Hopkins and make certain he hasn't done any permanent damage to my real estate business. I've had my secretaries, Ida and Clara, going through the paperwork for me. Ida, in particular, is really good at spotting inconsistencies. Basically Hopkins was used to distract me from the primary target, which we now know was you. But in going over to the other side, he was dumb enough to try a little creative bookkeeping since we were already losing money. He can be prosecuted."
She hid her smile against his shoulder. Jake with his unconventional employees. Ida was nearing eighty years old but was as sharp as a tack. He'd found her in the back office of a small accounting firm some twelve years ago. Her husband had left her years earlier, forcing her back into the work force, and despite being brilliant at what she did, no one treated her with the respect--or wages--Jake thought her due. No one wanted to hire her because of her age, and the small firm had kept her working for minimum wage, so he'd had no qualms about stealing her away from them.
Clara was another misfit. Her husband left her when their fourth child was born autistic. She'd married him right out of high school and had no work experience whatsoever. With her children young and Clara often having trouble getting a sitter, especially for her youngest, she'd been desperate, homeless and trying to acquire skills in order to keep her family together by going to school when she could. Jake had spotted the children in the beat-up car and, furious, had confronted her. He'd hired her on the spot. Found her a place to live and put a small day-care center into one of his office buildings.
Emma had no doubt that the two women would be meticulous in going over every single document, and if Dean Hopkins was stealing from Jake as he suspected, they would find the evidence. She kissed him again, just because he was Jake and never suspected the goodness in himself. He would have said he'd hired Ida and Clara because they were brilliant and loyal, not realizing he had created their loyalty through his own actions.
"The news said the storm is going to be very bad," she reminded. "There's going to be widespread flooding. If you can't beat it home, stay in town so I'll know you're safe."
Jake pressed her tighter against him, hearing that note in her voice, the one that conveyed worry and love, the one he listened for now. Going to his office to confront Hopkins wasn't nearly as much fun as he had anticipated. He'd much rather stay home with Emma and the children now, but he'd put the confrontation off for too long.
"I'll be fine, honey. I'll call you if I think the roads are too bad."
Emma pressed the papers against her heart again. "I love seeing my name on his birth certificate. Thank you, Jake, this means the world to me."
"I'm the one who's thankful to have you as Kyle's mother, Emma." He kissed her again and picked up his briefcase. "If you need anything at all, let Drake know."
"Storms don't scare me," she assured.
Emma watched him leave. Although it was still only late afternoon, the sky had already darkened and the winds had picked up. She wasn't frightened of storms, usually sh
e really enjoyed them, but she did feel uneasy. Knots developed in the very pit of her stomach. Andraya ran into the room, chased after by Susan.
"Mommy." The little chubby arms went up.
Emma bent down to pick up Andraya, and as she settled her against her hip, the little girl brushed against her breast. It hurt. Really hurt. So much so that she immediately put her daughter back on the floor, inhaling sharply. Her muscles ached. She didn't want to come down with the flu and have the children get it.
As the afternoon wore on, her symptoms increased. She developed a sensitivity to sound. The light bothered her eyes. At times her eyes would abruptly change vision, so that bands of color appeared before her eyes. Her joints hurt, cracking and popping with every movement she made.
But more than the physical pain, the soreness invading her body was something much, much worse, something insidious and frightening.
She was very aware of her body. Every curve. Every square inch of skin. The heat building inside of her. The tension stretching along nerve endings. She rubbed at her arms as an itch spread, not over the top of her skin, but under, as if something long dormant was rising and trying to get out.
Emma tried to play with the children, but as evening approached she found herself watching the clock, her teeth set grimly, hoping the time would pass faster so she could put them to bed. Her emotions swung out of control in either direction. One moment she was close to tears and the next she was snapping at everyone. Several times Susan asked her what was wrong, and she caught the girl looking at her strangely, as if even her appearance was different.