It was late by the time I got my hair and makeup done and changed into my new clothes. My palms were sweaty as I texted Emery, asking him where he was, and when it took him almost twenty minutes to answer, I started to panic at the thought of going all out only to end up partying by myself.
But my phone eventually lit up with his name. He’d gone down the strip, but was on his way back to the club inside our hotel. Marquee.
I sighed a breath of relief that I wouldn’t have to find a cab — or worse, walk down the strip. I’d already walked Kalo when I got back from the mall, but I wanted to wait a while before making my way down. No way was I showing up before him. So, I sat on the edge of the bed, completely dressed and ready, petting my dog.
So cool.
When I’d managed to burn another twenty minutes, I checked my reflection one more time in the mirror.
The dress fit like a glove, just like it had in the store, and my fingers played with the gold chains of the choker as I took in the whole ensemble. I’d picked up a black clutch to match at the last second, and I held it in the hand not touching the chains. My hair was curled in soft waves that fell down my back and over my shoulders, and my glasses were tucked in my toiletry bag, leaving my eyes bare for the first time in years. I had fake lashes and more makeup than I even knew existed on my face, courtesy of Mac, and even though I looked completely different, I didn’t feel weird.
I felt beautiful.
I wondered how many girls experienced this every day when they looked in the mirror as I slipped the hotel key into my clutch, letting the door click softly shut behind me. My eyes studied the rhinestones on my flats as they carried me to the elevator, my hands fiddling with my curls. I was anxious to see Emery, to see his reaction to me. Maybe he wouldn’t care — after all, he’d been attracting drop-dead gorgeous women his entire life. But maybe he’d see what I did. Maybe he’d see the girl he kissed under the stars in Colorado, the girl waiting for him to tell her what the hell was going on in his head.
It was like playing a game of chess where none of the rules I’d learned applied anymore. There were new pieces, new movements, new strategies — and I had no idea how to play. All I could do was watch and learn from my opponent, which put me at a steep disadvantage.
The club was inside the hotel, the entrance located on the second floor, and the line was wrapped around the thumping dome that surrounded it as I rounded the hallway that housed the elevators. I stepped up to the back of the crowd, forcing a shaky breath and holding my clutch in both hands as I waited.
A group of girls in front of me was laughing when I approached, all of them visibly drunk, but after a moment, I noticed them whispering to each other, their eyes flicking to me every now and then.
More specifically, to my leg.
I stood as tall as I could, trying to ignore them and keep my eyes trained on the bouncers checking IDs at the front. It was working until one of them turned to me, blinding me with a smile so bright against her bronze skin I almost squinted.
“Sorry for staring,” she said, a thick Spanish accent curling the words, and I was surprised by the sweet tone of her voice. She was still giggling with her friends, but still, I waited for the insult, for the bless your heart kind of comment that would come next. She only shook her head with awe in her eyes as she gave me another once over. “We just can’t stop talking about how amazing you look.”
“Me?” I nearly choked.
She laughed, the other girls succumbing to another fit of giggles. “Yes, you. That dress is stunning, and your hair… I wish I could get mine to look like that.”
“Seriously,” one of her friends added. “It’s so shiny. Like a shampoo commercial.”
More giggles.
I blushed. “Thank you, but all credit goes to the hair place across the strip. This mess is usually in a braid,” I said, running a few fingers through my curls.
“Mine is usually in a messy bun, so I get it,” the first girl said. “Well, anyway, you look awesome. See you inside?”
“Sure,” I said, and I couldn’t fight the smile creeping its way onto my face once she turned around again.
Lily once told me there’s nothing more genuine than a compliment from a drunk girl, and I held onto that as the line moved forward. My confidence was still roughly the size of a pea, but they’d made me feel as good as when I’d looked in the mirror upstairs. Maybe my leg wasn’t the only thing people saw, after all.
The line moved quickly, and before I knew it, I’d had my ID checked and I was ushered inside. My nerves were on high alert when I handed the bouncer my fake, but he barely glanced at it, seeming much more interested in my attire than my age. I was inside before I could put my ID away again, but it wasn’t a club I found on the other end of the door.
It was a concert.
Bright neon lights flashed, rays of green and purple stretching across the crowd on the dance floor and bouncing off the walls in the back. Dancers lined the railings on the left and right of the dance floor, each of them wearing platinum wigs and glowing makeup, dressed in nothing but what appeared to be black underwear and bras as they danced in time with the beat of the electronic music.
The bass thumped through me and my heart rate accelerated with it.
How the hell am I going to find Emery in here?
I hooked my fingers over the leather of my clutch, holding it in front of me as I slowly moved through the crowd, eyes on the bar. The music was so loud I couldn’t think, couldn’t process, the lights flashing bright over the sea of faces before they disappeared again. When I found a small clearing, I stood still, gathering my bearings.
And then I saw him.
Emery was at the bar, just like I’d suspected, seated at the far end of it on a barstool with people crowding on either side of him trying to get the bartenders’ attention. His hand rested on the lower back of some platinum blonde girl, and that was all I could see of her from the back — that and her sky high, red-bottomed heels that matched the crimson sequin detailing on her dress.
His hands were on her.
But his eyes were on me.
The blonde leaned in to talk in his ear over the music as his gaze fell from my eyes down over my chest, my ribs, my legs. I thought I saw him swallow, though I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was he was scowling, and when he met my gaze again, he didn’t move. He didn’t get up and come to me or call me over. His eyes didn’t widen at my dress. His jaw didn’t drop.
He just stared.
And my heart sank all the way down to the dance floor.
I thought he was coming back to me, I thought the bad day was over, but he was looking at me like he didn’t want me there, like he was annoyed I showed up at all. It was clear to me in that moment that our kiss meant absolutely nothing to him, and that likely, I didn’t either.
Stupid girl.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and throw a fit and pack my bags and catch the next flight out of town. I didn’t even know where I would go — back to Mobile? On to Seattle? To wherever the first flight would take me? It didn’t matter, but I couldn’t stay in that club another minute letting him make me feel like I didn’t belong.
My bottom lip quivered as I ripped my gaze from his, but I held my chin high, biting back any emotion as I started making my way through the crowd again. He didn’t deserve my tears, especially since he clearly wouldn’t care if they fell.
I was nearly to the door when a hand wrapped around my wrist, gentle yet firm as it pulled me to a halt.
I turned, my eyesight blocked immediately by a wide chest, and when I craned my neck up to get a good look at the man hooked to the hand still holding me in place, my pulse ticked back to life.
He was ridiculously tall, especially next to me, with midnight skin and jet-black eyes. Those eyes were drinking me in, his full lips settling into a smirk as he pulled me just a little closer to him.
“I’m sorry, but there’s just no way.”
I stared at him, confused, my head tilting a little as I leaned in so I could hear him better. “I’m sorry?”
“There’s no way,” he repeated, taking my cue and stepping closer.
My eyes jetted to the left, then to the right, before finally finding his again. “I… I don’t understand.”
“It’s just, I saw you from where I was sitting at the bar, just standing out there on that dance floor. You walked in, stood there, looked like someone broke your damn heart, and then you turned to leave. I almost thought I imagined you, because there’s no way you got all dressed up, that you walked out of your hotel tonight looking like this,” he said, eyes trailing my body slowly again. “Just to leave the club before midnight.”
I’d never blushed so furiously in my life, and I prayed he didn’t see it as a bright flash of light found us in the dark before quickly shading us again.
“I was supposed to meet someone here, but…” I paused, unsure how to finish the sentence. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I was just heading back up for the night.”
He shook his head. “You’re right, it doesn’t matter. And there’s not a chance in hell you’re leaving yet, not before you let me buy you a drink.”
I sighed, looking at the exit longingly. It was my way out of here, out of this dress, out of my head.
“Come on,” the guy pleaded, squeezing my hand in his. “Just one drink, and if you still want to leave when it’s gone, I’ll walk you to the door.”
I looked up at him again, finding nothing but a genuine smile, a genuine guy who thought I was pretty and wanted to buy me a drink. And maybe it was the thousands of miles between me and the parents who made me not want to ever touch alcohol, or maybe it was the embarrassment I felt from Emery’s rejection, or maybe it was just not wanting to waste a dress I thought I’d never wear and makeup I knew I’d never know how to do again — but whatever the reason, I let out a long exhale, my worries riding it like a wave.
For once, a drink seemed like exactly what I needed.
“You’ve got a deal.”
His grin doubled, eyes lighting up with my permission as he held my hand a little tighter, tugging me through the crowd again and back to the bar. When he found a space to squeeze in, we were pressed together, my chest hitting just under his as he placed a warm hand on my lower back.
“I’m Trey,” he said, leaning in to yell over the music.
“Cooper.”
“What’s your drink of choice, Cooper?”
I balked, glancing at the rows of bottles lining the shelves behind where the bartenders rushed around filling orders. I’d never had a drink in my entire life — how the hell was I to know what my drink of choice was?
“Um…” I pulled a curl over my shoulder, twirling it in my fingers. “You know, I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “You sure?”
I nodded. “I trust you.”
“Famous last words.”
I laughed at that, and he watched me a moment with that same sexy grin before knocking on the bar, grabbing the attention of the next bartender who whizzed by.
“Two Manhattans, please. Bulleit. Oh,” he paused, eying me mischievously and holding my gaze as he finished the order. “And two Vegas Bombs.”
The bartender nodded and got to work, pulling bottles from the shelf, her hands flying faster than I could watch.
“You said one drink,” I reminded him.
“Vegas Bomb is a shot, not a drink. And you also said you were having whatever I was.”
His smile was infectious, and I mirrored it as I leaned in a little closer. “Sneaky.”
Trey shrugged. “Or innovative, depending on how you look at it.”
He slid me two shot glasses as soon as the bartender set them in front of him, the larger one filled with Red Bull and the other with two types of whiskey. When our Manhattans were made, Trey told the bartender what name the tab was under before turning to me with a devilish grin.
“Drop the shot glass in the Red Bull, then chug. Ready?”
Excitement swirled with fear low in my stomach as I laughed, shaking my head and lifting both of the glasses. “As I’ll ever be.”
“One… two…”
But before Trey could say three, a hand snatched the whiskey shot glass from mine, and Emery slid right between us.
“Hey!” I squeaked, frowning as I tried to grab the glass back. Emery held the shot right out of my reach, his eyes hard on mine, those two lines creased between his brows, jaw set.
“What the fuck, bro?” Trey stole the shot back, but Emery still didn’t move.
“You don’t drink.”
His entire body was pressed against mine, his breath hot on my lips as he stared down the bridge of his nose at me.
“We’re in Vegas,” I reminded him.
“So now you drink?”
He was challenging me, his chest puffed out, fists clenched tight. Trey tried to move him out of the way again, but even though he was taller, Emery was solid. He didn’t budge.
I narrowed my eyes. “What does it matter? Seemed like you had your hands full over there.” I nodded toward the other end of the bar where he’d been sitting before. “Maybe you should worry about whether or not she drinks instead of me.”
“I don’t give a fuck about her.”
“Oh,” I mocked. “And you give a fuck about me?”
He blinked, as if my cursing surprised him, or the fact that I’d called him out. And since I’d finally shocked him silent, I reached around him, taking the shot glass from Trey’s hand. Then I leaned over the bar enough that I could see him behind Emery, raising my glass to his.
“To Vegas.”
Trey eyed Emery, a little pissed, a little confused as he tapped his glass to mine. Then as he took his, I stood straight again, my chest still touching Emery, and with my eyes hot on his, I dropped the shot in the Red Bull and chugged.
All my senses were attacked violently in that next second, my eyes and throat burning in sync from the whiskey, but I didn’t cringe against the fire. I let it consume me, let it slide all the way down into my stomach as I wiped the corners of my mouth and stacked the empty glasses on the bar. Trey stepped around Emery, though we were still staring at each other, at least until Trey’s hand slipped between us with my Manhattan.
“Wanna dance?”
“Love to.” The words were like arrows lashing from my lips, and I aimed them straight at Emery as I snagged my clutch from the bar and tore my eyes from his, following Trey out to the dance floor.
I chugged half of my drink before Trey stopped, pulling my body flush against his. I was completely at a loss for why anyone actually enjoyed drinking as another burn sliced its way through me. I shook my head, eyes squeezed shut, my hands holding tight to Trey’s arms for balance.
“I take it that was the person you were supposed to meet?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, still fighting the roll of my stomach as I added more alcohol to it.
Trey smirked, pulling me even closer, the hand not holding his drink sliding confidently down to my ass. “I think that’s our theme for the night.”
“We should get tattoos.”
He laughed at that, but then his eyes fell to my lips, and neither of us were laughing anymore. “I think I want to leave my mark on you in a different way tonight, Cooper.”
I swallowed, my heart thumping against my rib cage like it wanted to flee, like it didn’t want to see what would happen next. Trey squeezed his hand, bunching my dress with it, and then our bodies were moving, his leg between mine as we rolled and dipped. I’d never danced before — not unless you counted the times I was alone in my bedroom with a fake microphone and Taylor Swift on the radio — and this was definitely not that kind of dancing.
Sweat rimmed the roots of my hair the longer we moved, and I drained the rest of my drink, abandoning the empty glass on a nearby table as Trey followed suit. Then we had both hands to touch, to roam, to pull, to feel. Trey’s hands were enormous, his thumbs nearly touching above my navel as he gripped my waist, swaying me with him.
The alcohol buzzed through me like a lightning storm, hitting me in flashes along with the laser lights streaming from the DJ above the dance floor. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of the music, the base, the hands, the night. Trey leaned in, his voice barely audible as he spoke over the music and told me he’d be right back, he was grabbing us another drink. I nodded, eyes still closed, my hands lifting above me once Trey wasn’t there to hold onto anymore.
It was surreal, dancing in the middle of a crowded club in Las Vegas, the music vibrating through every vein as I moved in time with the rhythm. A week ago, I was just a little girl in Mobile, Alabama, serving pancakes to the same people I had since I was sixteen. Now, I was a vixen, sexy and confident, wearing a dress that showed my most sensitive scar.
And it was the last thing on my mind.
Trey’s hands slid around my waist from behind and he pulled me back into him, his hips matching my rhythm as he molded himself to me again. His abs were hard against my back, and I arched into him, running my hands through my hair and pulling it all to one side to cool my neck. But when he ran his nose along the skin I’d just exposed before sucking my earlobe between his teeth, my eyes shot open.
Because I knew then that it wasn’t Trey at all.
“Emery.”
I breathed his name like a curse, and his hands squeezed my hips in affirmation as he rocked against me from behind. My eyes fluttered shut again at the rush from his touch, my knees suddenly weak, and I leaned into him, letting him take my weight. His hands were everywhere — wrapping around to grab my own, fingers laced between mine before he dragged them up my ribs, under the wire frame of my bra, and then they were on a hot trail back down to my waist.
My lips parted as he picked up our pace and I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, eyes still closed as he kissed along my neck. Every part of our bodies was sewn together, and his heart beat hard and steady through the fabric of his shirt, the bass to the quick, light beat of my own.
Cracking my eyes open, I turned in his arms, staring at his chest. As soon as I lifted my eyes to his, I heard my name.
“What the fuck, man?” Trey shoved Emery away from me, his fresh drinks crashing to the floor with the movement. “I thought she made it pretty clear at the bar that you needed to back off.”
“She’s here with me, asshole,” Emery said, bowing up to Trey.
“Oh, you’re the guy she was supposed to meet here, huh? The one who left her standing heartbroken on the floor when she first got here?”
The color drained from Emery’s face, and his eyes flicked to mine, but Trey stepped even more between us.
“Well, sorry bro, you fucked up, and now she’s with me. So take a walk.”
Emery’s face screwed up, his hands shoving Trey back. “You fucking take a walk, bro.”
Trey went to shove Emery again but I jumped between them, pressing my hands into his chest.
“Stop! It’s fine, Emery was just leaving.”
“Not without you, I’m not.”
I spun, rushing toward him. “What is your deal? You’ve ignored me for the past three days, including an hour ago when you had another girl wrapped around you at the bar. Go find her and leave us alone.”
“I. Don’t. Want. Her.” He stepped right back into me, into my space, his chest heaving. “And you don’t want him.”
“You don’t know anything about what I want.”
“I do,” he argued. “Which is exactly why I haven’t said a word since the night we kissed. Because I know what you want, Cooper, and I also know that I can’t fucking give it to you.”
He pulled back, the heat from him leaving me in a rush as I watched him push through the crowd toward the exit. My heart beat loud in my ears, louder than the music, louder than the voice in my head that told me I was in deeper than I could swim. Trey grabbed my hand from behind but I ripped it away, and before it registered in my cloudy mind what I was doing, my feet carried me through the sea Emery had already parted.
“Emery.”
It was the seventeenth time I’d called his name, and he still hadn’t stopped. His strides were twice that of mine, but I pushed to keep up as we crossed the second floor of the casino toward the elevators.
“Emery, just wait.”
But he wouldn’t, and when he made it to the elevators, he punched the up button over and over until the doors to one finally opened. He rushed in, but I had already caught up, and I slipped inside with him before the doors could close.
“Talk to me,” I said when we were finally alone, both of us winded as the elevator shot us up to our floor. His hair that was so perfectly styled before he left earlier was a mess again, like he’d had his hands in it all night, and his eyes were red and weary.
“I’m sorry, you should just go back. Go have fun.”
“You’re sorry,” I deadpanned. “Sorry for what, exactly? For giving me the best kiss of my life, for letting me open myself to you in that tent only to completely blow me off the next day?”
“It was your first kiss.”
“And?”
Emery’s eyes met mine. “And you can’t say it’s your best if you have nothing to compare it to.”
“Oh, so I should just jet back downstairs and make out with Trey, huh? Is that what you want?”
He gritted his teeth, and I knew I’d struck a nerve, so I stepped into him.
“You want me to, what, have more experience? Will that make you feel better about kissing me, about touching me? Do you need me to break under someone else’s hands so you don’t have to be the one to do it first?”
The elevator doors opened again and Emery bolted off without an answer, but I was hot on his trail.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want the responsibility of being my first kiss.”
Emery tapped the key against the reader on our door, shoving inside, the door already closing behind him as my hands caught it. He went straight into the bathroom and shut the door, so I beat my tiny fists on it.
“Emery!” I screamed his name like it would somehow fix everything, like just saying it would force him to admit it. But when he didn’t answer, my forehead hit the door in defeat and I closed my eyes on a sigh. “Please, Emery. Please talk to me. You at least owe me that.”
It was quiet a moment, but I could hear him breathing on the other side, and then the door flew open and my head lifted, eyes meeting his.
“Yes.”
We both cracked with the word, his nose flaring as he stepped toward me, but I was already moving back.
“You’re right. I don’t want to be the one to break you.”
“So don’t.”
He shook his head as if I’d asked him not to breathe.
“You want love. You want romance and fairytales and happy ever afters. You want I love yous and whispered promises and growing old together. And you know what? You deserve that. You do.” My back hit the wall, but he kept moving, advancing on me until we were just inches apart, his hands pressing into the wall around me. “I’m sorry I was selfish enough to kiss you the other night, because I can’t give you any of that. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“Why does it have to be all that? Why can’t we be what you can give, what I can give. It can be casual. Why can’t we just try?”
“Because I don’t do this,” he said, motioning between us. “I’ve wanted to kiss you from the second I saw you, Cooper, and I figured I’d have your legs on my shoulders and your head hitting the wall that first night in New Orleans.”
I swallowed, heat rushing from somewhere in my core up to my cheeks.
“And I don’t say that out of disrespect,” he added quickly. “Because I realized almost immediately when you got in my car that you aren’t that kind of girl… You aren’t like any kind of girl I’ve ever met.”
Some of his anger slipped away then, his eyes brighter, voice softer.
“I also realized that none of the rules I’ve set in relationships before you would work anymore. Not with you. I can’t disconnect from you, and I can’t treat this like it’s casual because it’s not. You’re not. And I can’t—“ His voice broke, his eyes shutting tight as he shook his head before they popped back open again. “There are so many things I want to do to you, Cooper.” He said it quietly, like it hurt, like it was ripping him apart from the inside. “Things you’ve never experienced, but I can’t. Because you deserve more than that, more than what I can give you.” He pushed back off the wall, his eyes falling to the floor. “More than me.”
Emery’s back was to me, one hand covering his mouth as he looked out the window across our room.
“But I want you,” I whispered, pressing my hands into the wall behind me. I used it for leverage to stand taller before crossing the space between us. Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around him from behind, my forehead burying into his back as he let out a pained sigh.
“You don’t know me,” he countered, voice rough. “And if you did, you’d be running right now.”
His journal entries flashed in my mind, and I shook my head against the warmth of his back. If only he knew.
“How do you know that if you don’t give me the chance?”
I moved around him, my hands sliding from his waist to hook behind his neck. I pulled him down into me, our eyes closing together, foreheads touching like they had the night of our first kiss.
“Try, Emery. That’s all I’m asking. Let me in on the bad days, in here,” I said, tapping his temple before my fingers trailed down over his chest. “And maybe, in time, here, too.”
“And if I can’t?”
I swallowed, but then pulled back until he opened his eyes, faking my next sentiment as best I could and punctuating it with a shrug. “Then you better at least give me the best damn casual sex of my life.”
He smirked, but the curve on his lips died quickly, his eyes igniting with a mixture of passion and warning. My fingers tangled behind his neck, and I took the last step, closing every inch of space between us as I looked up at him.
“Kiss me,” I whispered. “And this time, don’t stop.”
Emery blew out a breath, hands moving to frame my face. I closed my eyes as soon as his skin hit mine, mouth falling softly open, chin tilted up, waiting. His thumb brushed my jaw line before the pad of it skated across my bottom lip, and he groaned, making my eyes flutter open.
His honey eyes were locked on my lips, his brows bent together as he shook his head like he was about to commit a crime that would put him away for life. He swallowed, catching my eyes for just a second before he caved, a guilty man accepting his punishment as his mouth fused with mine.
And though I would have sworn it was impossible, he tasted even better the second time.
The room pulled away and snapped back in a rush, my hands flying into his hair as he lifted me. I wrapped my good leg around him, hiking the other thigh as high as I could before his hand slipped under it for support. He was still scolding me with hot, unapologetic kisses as I rolled my body into him, doing everything I could to get closer, to get more.
When my back hit the puffy comforter of his bed, my hair fluttered out around me, every inch of us sinking deeper into the bed as Emery kissed my neck. His hands were hard on my hips, gripping with a force that made me gasp his name. He told me he wanted me with that grip, confessed his sins with another kiss, and with a groan low in his throat and a roll of his hips against my middle, he threw every reason he should stop out our window and down to the Vegas strip.
Emery slid my dress up and over my hips, exposing the simple thong I wore underneath, and when his fingers ran along the lacy fabric, he paused. His forehead hit mine, a frustrated grunt leaving his lips. I thought he was going to stop, but he simply slowed, his fingers more gentle as they traced the edge of my panties, his kisses softer on my lips.
“Wait here.”
In the next second, his warmth was gone, and I lay alone on the bed. I pulled my dress back down a little, my breaths as loud as a train while I watched Emery take his phone from his pocket. He pressed a few buttons, connecting to the speaker on the night stand, and then a soft acoustic song flowed out.
He seemed to be catching his breath as he removed his wallet from his other pocket next, and his eyes were on mine as he pulled out a condom, setting it next to his phone on the table. Then, he crawled back in between my legs, and with our eyes still watching, he kissed me.
With that kiss, everything slowed down — his lips, our hands, my breaths. Emery balanced above me on unsteady elbows, his eyes connecting with mine between each long, soft kiss.
It was my first time, but his shaky hands brushing my hair back told me he was just as nervous as I was.
My heart was the only thing still hammering, beating wildly, thoughts of what was to come rushing through me like a rip tide. He was going to touch me. He was going to touch me where no one had ever touched me before.
Emery pushed up from the bed, his arms stronger now as they held him up on either side of me. He watched me there for a moment, chest heaving, before he took a steady breath and leaned back until he was on his knees. His throat tightened as he swallowed, hands reaching down, palms flattening against the hot skin of my thighs before he pushed up. His wrists caught the hem of my dress, bringing it up with them, and I lifted my hips, my back, my neck, helping him until the dress was gone, discarded somewhere behind him, his eyes raking down my exposed body.
He wet his lips, fingers popping the buttons on his shirt loose one at a time before he tugged it off his shoulders. I’d seen that chest naked before, seen him in nothing but a towel after a shower, but it was different this time. This time, he was exposing that chest for me, for my hands, for my lips.
I sat up, my own hands trembling slightly as I unfastened his belt, the top button of his pants, sliding his zipper down with my eyes crawling up until they found his again. Emery towered over me, his pants undone now, and I traced every ridge and valley of his abdomen with my eyes first before my hands followed suit.
I’d never felt a man, not like that — not hard and hot and bare, not that close. Emery placed his hands over mine, guiding them up over his chest before he pulled my fingers to his lips. With a kiss to each hand, he pulled them up until they were above my head, and then his fingertips skated down my ribs, igniting another wave of chills. He pulled my small bralette over my head, my hair falling out of it in a waterfall down my back before he laid me down again.
I couldn’t grasp a single thought before it was knocked out by the next, my brain on overdrive as Emery kissed me. I felt him kick out of his shoes, and he balanced easily on one elbow and then the next as he maneuvered out of his pants, all the while pressing his wet lips against my skin. When it was just his boxer briefs against my thong, the hard length of him pressing into me, I inhaled a loud, sharp breath, shuddering beneath him.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
I nodded, arching into him. “Don’t stop.”
Emery pushed up again, sliding a hand down my left thigh until my leg was hooked over his arm, and then he slid his other hand down to the ankle of my prosthetic leg. His thumb pushed the black pin with a pop, his brows furrowed in concentration, chest moving steadily with the rhythm of his breaths. His touch was soft as he gently removed the limb, the socks, the liner, placing each of them to the side with care before his thumbs hooked under the lace of my thong. And when every layer was gone, he sat back on his heels, shaking his head as his eyes roamed every inch.
“Goddamn, Little Penny.”
I blushed, fighting a smile as I reached for him, pulling him back down.
Emery granted my wish with a single, quick kiss before his mouth was moving down. He sucked the skin of my neck between his teeth, eliciting a hiss from me before his mouth found my breast next. And down he went, until the backs of my thighs were on his shoulders, and his lips were brushing the sensitive skin that no one else had ever seen.
My breath picked up speed then, having him below me, the sight of his mouth just inches from the most private part of me. Suddenly, I wondered if it would hurt. I wondered if the stories I’d heard were true. Would I bleed? Would it even feel good at all? But the thoughts were fleeting, muted in the next second by the tender, velvet skin of Emery’s lips on my skin.
His kisses were featherlight on my inner thighs and hips, each one moving closer and closer to where I ached the most. I rolled my hips, squirming under the touch, and when I thought I would spontaneously combust with anymore foreplay, Emery cast one last heated gaze up my body.
And then his mouth was on me, hot and wet and new, and all the pent-up energy left my lips in a loud, pleading moan.
I squeezed my eyes closed, fists tightening around where I gripped the sheets, hips rolling of their own accord. A flurry of foreign emotions blew through me as his tongue worked, my breaths coming so hard I felt lightheaded. There was some sort of heat building low in my stomach, a numbness lashing out from it like the tips of fire, reaching down to my toes before it would retract again. For some reason, I wanted to catch that fire, but it was just out of reach.
Emery slowed, his tongue flat and hot against my core as one of the hands gripping my thighs snaked under his mouth, instead. He gazed up at me, eyes wide and worried and on fire all at once, and then the tip of his finger brushed my entrance. It tickled the wetness there, and when he slipped it slowly inside me, centimeter by centimeter, a burning rush of pleasure seared from the point of contact through every nerve in my body.
I gasped, back arching off the bed, and Emery withdrew the finger slowly, pressing it back inside with careful measure.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, and I could barely creak an eyelid open long enough to nod before my head was back on the pillow, my knuckles white from twisting the sheets so hard.
He worked me gently, and I was stretching for him, opening in a way I’d never been opened before. I didn’t understand it, how he knew how to touch me there, in a place never touched before — not even by me. It burned at first, a strange, almost numbing fire that faded more with every push inside until I was okay, and then I was more than okay, and then I was chasing that feeling again — one I couldn’t quite understand, but that felt closer and closer with every second.
Emery withdrew his finger all the way before his middle finger joined the first, and I peered down at him, my eyes as wide as his this time as he gently slipped them both inside. The burning was back, but more fleeting this time, the sensation only there for a moment before it was gone again. And when he pressed them a bit deeper inside me, the tips of his fingers curling, his mouth lowering to the sensitive skin above his fingers again, I whimpered.
My breaths were loud and tight, my eyes squeezed shut, and I was reaching for that fire again. It was so close, the lashes coming closer together now until all of a sudden, the flames caught, and my entire body burned in a rush. I moaned so loud one hand flew to cover my mouth, but Emery ripped it away, his mouth relentless on the part of me that seemed to be the source of the fire, the spark that ignited it all.
And I realized then that this was it, the feeling I’d always wondered about, the forbidden and foreign rush that came with a man touching me the way Emery was. I rode out my first orgasm, legs shaking and heart racing. It was an out-of-body experience and yet I was present for every blazing second of it.
It seemed to give me every ounce of energy available in my body all at once before it washed away, quickly and fluidly, and my legs fell lax, hips opening, hands releasing the sheets. I panted, a sore awakening touching each muscle as Emery withdrew his fingers and kissed me once more, light and tender, before moving his way back up.
His shoulder shook as he leaned his weight on it, his lips fusing with mine as my breaths evened out.
“Oh my God,” I breathed into his mouth. “I think I… did I just…”
“You came,” he said, his teeth nibbling at my bottom lip. “How did it feel?”
“Incredible,” I breathed the word on a laugh, and Emery smiled, kissing me softly.
He pushed back carefully until he was standing, and when I saw the red stains on his fingers, my eyes shot open for a completely different reason. Emery followed my gaze, holding up his clean hand to stop me from speaking. “It’s okay, it’s fine, it’s normal,” he assured me. “One second.”
He slipped into the bathroom, my heart still thumping hard and loud in my chest until he returned with a damp wash cloth and clean hands. Emery crawled onto the bed again, one forearm sliding under my shoulder, hips resting between mine. With careful movements, he reached his free hand between us with the cloth, the warm wetness of it running the length of me gently as he watched me.
“You are so, so beautiful, Cooper,” he whispered as he cleaned me, and then his lips were on mine, the cloth gone and dropped somewhere on the floor. He rested between my hips again, the hardness of him pressed against me, and though I’d felt it the night we’d kissed in Colorado, this was different. He wanted me. He wanted me so badly his body was reacting to me chemically, in a way he couldn’t control, and it filled me with an unexplainable yearning to make him feel what I’d just felt.
“I want you,” I whispered, a bit unsure of my own voice. “I want you inside me.”
Emery swallowed, his arms shaking again, forehead pressed to mine. I’d felt so spent, but when I bucked my hips up to meet his and he pressed against the tender center of me, want took over. My hands ran the length of his shoulders, fingertips digging into the flesh as I pulled him closer.
It was like I was a precious vase, historic in nature, beautiful and regal, and he was the handler. He was so afraid of marking me, of leaving fingerprints or worse — breaking me. But I had faith in his steady hands, in the way he watched me, and I rocked into him again, my lips finding his.
He kissed me in return, then just as he’d worked his way out of his pants, he did the same with his briefs, eyes on mine the entire time. Our lips were still connected as he felt for the condom on the table, and I tasted myself there, a sweet and tangy mix of him and me that fueled the fire in my stomach again.
The song changed on the speaker just as Emery settled between my hips, his eyes searching mine, a new acoustic melody filling the room. One hand slipped between us, positioning him at my entrance, but he paused.
God, the two creases between his brows were enough to kill me in that moment. He was looking at me like his next move would kill me, and maybe it would. But I wanted to die in his arms that night.
So, with the heel of my right foot, I pressed into his backside, and he took the cue, eyes fluttering shut along with mine as he filled me. Slowly, inch by aching inch, until we were together in every way we physically could be, in every way I’d never been with a man before.
Emery groaned as he retracted before pressing into me again, this time hitting me a little deeper, the searing pain I’d felt before back again. I opened for him, nails digging into the muscles of his back as I adjusted to the new sensations. I was full, so full, every flex of his hips rocking me with a new rush of all-consuming pleasure. It was born where we touched, spreading through my entire body in waves all the way to my toes, to my breasts, escaping as little pants from my open lips before a new wave followed right behind it.
“Still okay?” he whispered, kissing me softly as he rocked into me again.
I cracked an eyelid open. “Mmm.”
“Are you in pain?”
He rocked in slowly again, and I squeezed my eyes tighter.
“A little, but I’m okay.”
And I was. I was more than okay. I understood why he kept asking, and in a way, it made me want him more. He was so gentle, so reverent, like being the first man to touch me was the highest privilege he’d had his entire life.
Just like with his fingers, every new thrust opened me more, the pain fading slowly until it was just the sensation of being full. More than anything, I felt overwhelmed with pleasure — like there truly was just too much of it. It was everywhere — on his lips when they kissed me, flowing from his hands where they touched me, in the air around us. I’d never experienced anything like it, and I never wanted it to end. It was all consuming, the indulgence that came from him being inside me. I never understood before, I never could have comprehended it until I’d experienced it for myself.
I would never be the same again.
Emery’s lips fused with mine again as he found a rhythm between my thighs, and I tried desperately to hold onto every sensation, every memory of my first time. I listened to the song playing, the roughness of the artist’s voice, the sultry notes from his guitar. I tasted Emery’s lips, his tongue, felt the weight of him on top of me, inside of me. I cataloged each and every moment, saving them for later, forever.
“You have no idea how hard it is for me to take this easy,” he groaned in my ear, another thrust hitting even deeper as I gasped from the feel of it.
His words sent another zing of pleasure jolting through me, and I kissed him harder, pulling him closer. “It’s okay, if you want to… if you need to go harder. I can take it.”
Emery kissed my collarbone with another growl, his eyes lifting to meet mine. “I have no doubt, but tonight I’m taking it slow. Tonight,” he repeated, his eyes dark. “I want to give you part of the fairytale, even if it’s just this.”
His words almost hurt, they were tinged with such sadness, such a lack of faith in himself. I wrapped my arms around his neck again, pulling him into me, my lips seeking his.
And in my heart, I knew the odds were against us — that we might be able to start a happy ever after, but our chances of finishing it were slim.
I turned the page, anyway.
The wetter I became, the easier it was for him to slide in and out, and he picked up speed. It was just enough, my moans mixing with his, our skin slick as we touched and felt and burned. Every time he rocked inside, he’d brush me where his mouth was before, on that sensitive space above my opening, and I’d cry out his name. It was such an incredible feeling, such a pleasurable sensation, and before I could stop myself, I came again, this orgasm a little duller but still enough to make me gasp his name over and over as my body shook beneath his.
“Fuck,” Emery cried as the last waves washed over me, and with another groan of his own, he came right behind me, his fingers leaving bruises on my hips as he rocked into me one last time. He held me there, his body pulsing above mine as my orgasm receded, and as soon as it passed, my legs fell to the side again and he collapsed, both of us spent.
He wrapped his arms all the way around me and rolled until I was lying on him, his breaths hot in my ear as our slick chests rose and fell together. He kissed my lips, my cheeks, my forehead before pulling me flush against him. My legs ached as he softened inside me, my entire body feeling like it just survived a car wreck and a baptism at the same time.
When our breaths evened out, Emery gently rolled me until I was at his side, discarding the condom in the trashcan beside the bed before pulling me into him again. I rested my head on his chest, fingers grazing the skin where his ribs were, evoking chills with every touch.
“Is it always like that?” I finally asked, my voice a raw, sated whisper.
Finally, Emery laughed, the sound of it loud and booming against my ear on his chest.
“Never,” he answered, fingers brushing through the tangled strands of my curls.
He swallowed then, as if that answer scared him as much as it excited me, and then he repeated it. Softer. Slower.
“Never.”