Chapter 15
Another agonizing and downright awkward day passed at work, until finally, Thursday evening arrived, that much closer to Friday.
She and Sarah spent the evening parked on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between the two of them and re-runs of Grey’s Anatomy on TV.
Patrick Dempsey, as delicious as ever in his scrubs, distracted for a while. Inevitably, her thoughts turned to her Patrick, and what had happened that afternoon a couple days ago.
The reverent way he’d held her . . . Damn him. She was pissed off for his behavior, but still, with one glance, one touch, he could completely knock her anger off its high horse.
“So, you want to hear the tall tale I’ve got for you about Caryn?” Sarah asked on the next commercial break, grabbing another handful of popcorn.
Emma shrugged, getting her bottle of water. “Sure, what’s she done now?” She put the bottle to her lips and drank.
“Apparently, she spread some rumor between her friends that she slept with Patrick.”
Water spluttered out of her mouth and dribbled down her chin and neck. “What?”
“Yeah, she’s been telling that story for the last several days. And finally, one of her friends, snuffed out the truth. She made the whole thing up, but Lord knows why.”
Sarah grabbed another handful of popcorn, chewed, and swallowed before asking, “Ems, you okay?”
Sagging against the couch, she took a sigh of relief. Holy shit.
Patrick had told the truth, and she had unnecessarily lashed out at him. What a fool she’d been.
“Yes, never better.”
~ ~ ~
Friday morning came and went in relative peace, but after finding out the news of Caryn’s lies, Emma felt much better.
She knew what had to be done.
She and Patrick worked in the conference room most of the day, and she stopped for lunch with Sarah. She’d been bottling up her feelings all day, preferring to wait for the day’s end, when the office was deserted.
The longer she waited, the more she wanted to chicken out, but her mom’s voice in the back of her head told her no, she needed to do this.
No matter what happened today, she would be all right.
The last remnants of sunlight filtered through the blinds, scattering across her desk later that evening, and her nerves were getting the best of her. She rubbed the back of her neck. The stiff, tired muscles couldn’t wait to soak in a long, hot bath.
Her eyes caught sight of him strolling across the lobby. That pin strip, navy-blue suit, and canary-yellow tie complemented his frame so beautifully. Quickly, she averted her stare and ignored the incessant clamor of her heart. Straightening her posture, she pretended to be working on an email when he strolled in.
He lightly rapped on the door. “Just wanted to say good night.”
“Patrick, hi.”
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Yes, come in. I need to talk to you, too.”
He entered, shutting the door behind him.
Standing, she tugged her shirt down as her insides danced with nervous energy. Doubts seeped in that he could turn her away, that she was wrong about he felt about her. She shooed the pesky feeling away. Remembering how he held her, so tenderly in his arms, the fierce way he kissed, and made love to her, the hot rush of emotions that swirled and wouldn’t settle.
She cleared her throat.
Linking her fingers together, she paced, and turned her back on him. She hoped this would quell her nerves, even as part of her wanted to scrap the whole thing and keep her feelings to herself.
Geez, but this was tougher than she thought.
“Emma, you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I want to get something off my chest.”
Facing the window, she watched dusk take over downtown. The last blush of daylight painted the azure sky with patches of orange, pink, and purple.
Despite her fear, she braced herself, and finally blurted, “I love you, Patrick, and while I know you don’t love me in return, I just wanted you know that I’ve never felt about anyone, the way I feel about you.” She paused, even as the knot in her chest threatened to take over. “Because you bring out something in me I never knew existed, and those nights in Greece meant so much to me. Only I tried to tell you I wanted more, but I figured it was too late. Damn it, I’ve loved you for longer than I can remember.”
She’d never felt more naked with him than she did now.
Dampness gathered between her breasts, and her face heated. The heavy words were out there and clung to the silence of the room. Still staring out the window, she wasn’t brave enough to turn around and face him.
A smile crept over her face, recalling the first time she’d laid eyes on Patrick, tanned and boyishly handsome. Wearing a Guns and Roses T-shirt, ripped jeans, and that smile.
Then, as the days, weeks, and months passed, the harmless crush turned into something she could not stop, taking her to the beach that fateful night, years later. Despite everything that had transpired, she loved him. She’d always loved him.
Tears burned behind her eyelids, tracking down her cheeks, but she didn’t care.
Gently, he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. She didn’t bother wiping away the moisture from her face as he turned her toward him. She met his eyes, seeing something she’d not seen since college: the same look he’d given her upon their departure from the island.
“Emma, I love you, too.”
“I get it, you don’t want me. You.” She stopped, his words now fully registering. “You what?”
She didn’t get a chance to catch her breath as he cradled her face within his hands and swallowed the rest of her doubts with a kiss.
Her lids drifted shut against the welcome pressure of his mouth. She wrapped her arms around him and reveled in the feel of his strong back. First-hand, intimate knowledge of what existed beneath inflamed her need.
Cradling the back of her head, he moved his other hand to her lower back, and brought her closer, until his chest pressed against hers. The hungry kiss drew on, as more tears gathered and tracked down her cheeks, mixing with the salty, yummy sweetness of his kisses.
Then, he paused, and leaned his forehead against hers. “I have a confession to make, but I don’t know where to start. I’ve loved you for so long, Emma. My feelings grew after that week in Greece, and I couldn’t cope. I didn’t know how to cope.”
As his confessions poured out, she held her breath, but kept silent, sensing more to come.
“That night you spent at my apartment, I had a horrible nightmare”—he paused—“that I’d lost you the same way I’d lost Laura, and I couldn’t take it. I love you, and I’m so sorry I hurt you, baby, so sorry.”
He nuzzled his forehead against hers, the motion giving her tummy the flutters, sent her insides shivering, and my God, how she loved the way he’d tenderly spoken those words. Whatever thoughts she’d had in mind to say, gone.
“Please, say something, Emma.” He laughed. “You’re killing me over here.”
Overwhelming did not cover the sheer amount of emotions, swirling inside, as he held her. As his tender words swam through her brain. “I love you, too,” she repeated.
Just when she thought he’d finished, he broke the silence. “I was a damned fool, both then and now. I should have never pushed you away. It’s just that . . .” He paused and finally locked eyes with her. “When we made love, you brought out something deep in me and the thought of losing you the same way I lost Laura, killed me inside. It was never only about the sex. I want you to know that. You made me whole again. You brought my soul back to life again, Emma.”
Despite his heart-felt, and genuine confessions, this felt surreal, and her mind was unable to formulate any rational thought.
“Patrick?”
“Yeah.”
Threading her fingers through his hair, she whispered in his ear, “I only have one favor to ask. Take me home and love me.”
~ ~ ~
He could not get her back to his apartment fast enough.
Forcefully shutting the door behind them, everything— keys, briefcases, bags, and jackets—landed in a discarded heap on the floor.
The setting sun sent golden shafts of light over the living room floor as he bent and picked her up, lifting her in his arms. Lush curves nestled into him as he pressed a kiss to her lips and she wrapped her arms around him.
He paused only to make his way to his bedroom, where he left the room in almost total darkness, save for some light filtering through the French doors leading to the balcony. He wanted to take his time, to savor and enjoy Emma in his arms. This time, it would be for good. He wanted to share his bed and his life with this glorious woman in his arms.
He set Emma on the edge of the bed, and knelt before her, pulling the little black box out of his front pocket. “Before we resume, there’s a question I need to ask you.”
She shook her head, fidgeting as she rubbed her knees back and forth. “And what’s that?”
He opened the box. The pear-shaped diamond nestling within sparkled, and winked back at him.
A tiny gasp escaped her lips. “Patrick, what—”
“Emma, I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to make you as deliriously happy as you’ve made me. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Oh my, God. Patrick,” she said, but then, and without reservation, she held her hand out. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”
He slid the ring onto her shaky left hand then kissed her knuckles. He removed her heels then slid seductively up her leg, snapping off her garters, one by one. He removed her stockings until only bare skin remained.
Grasping her around the waist, he leaned in, feasting on her mouth as if he’d never be able to again.
Then her hands roved down toward his pants, and with quick and deft fingers, she removed his belt, followed by his pants. He hurriedly fumbled with the zipper, until he was left only in his underwear and quickly discarded those as well. Hands and fingers tore away at clothing until they both lay naked on top of the comforter.
Cupping his cheek, she murmured, “Please, no condoms, Patrick. I just want skin on skin this time.”
“Emma, are you sure? What if we get pregnant?”
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, won’t we?”
Without reservation, he sheathed himself within her, and by God did she feel fucking amazing without the confining restraints of a condom. Just skin on skin, as he brushed aside her beautiful hair, ravishing the sensitive flesh behind her ear until she mewled with pleasure beneath him.
Delicate hands grasped his shoulders as he rocked back and forth. He gritted his teeth as she dug her fingernails into his back and lifted her legs, pushing him further inside her. The contact nearly made his eyes roll into the back of his head. He leaned his forehead against hers, and unable to find proper words, he remained silent as euphoria danced through him.
Seeing her head thrown back and hair spilled out over the sheets, unable to help himself, he pinned her arms above her head.
“Patrick,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.
Not allowing her to finish, he continued, roving downward, he took one sweet, succulent breast into his mouth. She arched into him, and he moved toward the other globe, sucking on the juicy tip, until the nipple puckered.
She opened her eyes, a hazy, distant far-off expression in her gaze.
Then she took him by surprise and broke one arm free, moving her hand downward.
Lifting an eyebrow, he knew this was one show he didn’t wish to miss. He removed himself and sat back, allowing her full use of both hands.
He didn’t have the adequate words to describe the marvelous, erotic sight before him.
Emma, with the last faint light of the sun’s rays caressing her face and over the expanse of her neck, he drank her in, riveted by the sight. Her hair fanned out over the pillow. One stray curl made its way forward and curved just between her neck and shoulders. That beautiful, pouty mouth, parted in abandon.
Utterly transfixed, he roved toward her jutting breasts, one hand rubbing and pinching a globe, while the other nipple stood in arousal. Her fingers moved past her stomach, until she met the juncture between her thighs. Softly, gently, and slowly, she massaged her nub, and little mewls of pleasure pierced the air as she continued touching herself.
Fiercely turned on, he was jealous as fuck of those fingers, and just when he thought she’d stop, she took it further, and opened her eyes, moving her fingers from her pussy to her mouth and sucked.
Hot. Damn, and holy fuck.
“You are so going to get it, Emma.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?” she asked, her voice husky.
“Both.”
Her victory was short lived as he lowered his mouth and replaced her fingers with his tongue. He relished the sounds, the taste of Emma, and his love for her burst. She grasped his hair between her fingers, keeping his mouth right where it was. He tripled his efforts in pleasing her until she tensed against him and he knew her release was not far behind.
Her hips levitated off the bed as she met her pleasure. A soft glow floated over her features.
“Patrick.” She spoke his name reverently.
Climbing back up, he came face to face with her and kissed her once. Then he sheathed himself once more, her entrance tight and wet from her orgasm as she swallowed his cock whole.
He leaned in and spread kisses down her arched neck and toward her jawline, raining kisses on her shoulders and the tops of her breasts, then taking one juicy ripe tip into his mouth. Then he gave the same rough attention to the other before his eyes roved toward her.
Her eyes shone like glittering sapphires. His heart swelled, realizing he held the crowned jewel in his arms.
He rested his chest against hers, and she leaned up, drawing his cheeks in her hands. She rubbed the skin with the pads of her thumbs.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about being in your arms, Patrick. So many times,” she whispered.
“I’m here, baby. And this time, for keeps,” he murmured.
Leaning up, she whispered in his ear, “I love you, Patrick.”
“My God, Emma. I-I love you too.” His body convulsed as he found release, spilling his seed inside her, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“Wow,” she whispered.
He chuckled softly, grasping the quilt to cover them both as he cradled her against him. Warmth settled in his heart, and he relished the sensation.
“You can say that again, sweets. Now, as for this wedding, I have something in mind, and I think you’re going to love the idea.”