[ That night between them, she hadn't completely relinquished the pain that loving Ash Colchester had wrought, but she had been able to lay down that burden for a while until her heart hadn't felt so unbearably heavy in her chest. That pain had eased, little by little, with every smile Embry sent her way, and the arch of his body against hers, and the way he'd made her come so hard she'd wept grateful tears into the sheets. ]
Haven't you heard of things always turning up when you stop looking for them?
[ It's a poor joke when the words are still catching in her throat, sticking to the roof of her mouth like molasses; she practically has to fight to get them out, and it's an even harder struggle when she feels his hand, big and warm, sliding up along her thigh, underneath the slit of her dress. She wants to grab a fistful of his hair and shove his face between her legs, refusing to let him up even to breathe. She wants him to drag her down into the grass and fuck her until her dress is too stained for her to wear anywhere else.
And then Embry says three words that make the lump in her throat impossible to swallow. ]
He's —
[ Here, somewhere, out there, and the knowledge of that prompts a darting look around, as if she's expecting him to materialize from one of the hedges, having been standing in quiet observation of them the entire time. When he doesn't appear, she releases a breath, fingers smoothing over Embry's hair again. ]
Not here. [ Not right here, with her, with Embry, with the both of them, but then another thought occurs to her, prompting another freeze. ] Did he send you?
no subject
Haven't you heard of things always turning up when you stop looking for them?
[ It's a poor joke when the words are still catching in her throat, sticking to the roof of her mouth like molasses; she practically has to fight to get them out, and it's an even harder struggle when she feels his hand, big and warm, sliding up along her thigh, underneath the slit of her dress. She wants to grab a fistful of his hair and shove his face between her legs, refusing to let him up even to breathe. She wants him to drag her down into the grass and fuck her until her dress is too stained for her to wear anywhere else.
And then Embry says three words that make the lump in her throat impossible to swallow. ]
He's —
[ Here, somewhere, out there, and the knowledge of that prompts a darting look around, as if she's expecting him to materialize from one of the hedges, having been standing in quiet observation of them the entire time. When he doesn't appear, she releases a breath, fingers smoothing over Embry's hair again. ]
Not here. [ Not right here, with her, with Embry, with the both of them, but then another thought occurs to her, prompting another freeze. ] Did he send you?