Emersyn

We stared into each other’s eyes. I could see something new in his, something I was certain hadn’t been there in a long time. That something resembled peace. Contentment. There was still a fair amount of pain there as well, but watching the change happen, knowing my words of reassurance were helping him to see the tragedy that killed his parents from a different perspective, brought tears of happiness and relief for him to my eyes. It hurt to know this man had lived the past fifteen years, all of his adult life if you think about it, drowning in guilt. I could only imagine what it would do to a person’s psyche. His hard and arrogant exterior now made sense to me. It was his shield. His protection from the potential of suffering more pain. More loss.

“Hey, what’s this?” His thumb glided underneath my eyes. Tears had gathered there. Even his tone was different now. The underlying sternness was gone. It was soft. So very soft and…hopeful. I smiled at him.

“I’m just happy you heard what I said and it helped. I can see the relief in your eyes and I… Nobody deserves to live under the cloud of guilt for as long as you have.”

He studied my face for long moments. “You gonna be there and help me work my way out from under that cloud?”

My heart skipped a beat. The certainty and tenderness in his eyes took my breath away. This was crazy. Absolutely insane. Dad was going to lose his mind when I told him I was falling for the horrid jerkface of a man I had vented to him about.

Which was exactly what this was. I wasn’t a person who lied to herself. I knew exactly what was happening. And no matter how bizarre, preposterous, and foolish it seemed, I could feel myself falling for this man I had only met a few short hours ago. And I could tell it was happening to him, too, even if he didn’t know what it was yet. No man looked at a woman the way he was looking at me this very moment without it meaning something. It reminded me of how Dad had always looked at Mom, of how he was still looking at her picture to this day.

So the answer was yes. Yes, I would be there for him. I couldn’t wait to be there for him.

“I will,” was all I could say before his mouth was on mine. He kissed me long and deep while his hands cupped my face and angled it just the way he wanted it. I clenched his hair in my fists and gave him what he needed.

When he pulled back, he caught my eyes. “I want this, Em. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything in my life as much as you. I don’t give a shit how crazy this sounds or what I have to do to prove to you that I won’t let you go. I can feel it in my gut.” He brushed the side of his nose against mine, then whispered, “I didn’t let myself get close to anyone for what feels like forever, but with you, closeness all I can think of. Has been since I watched you climb out of your car this afternoon. There’s a pull between us, a force I can’t deny. I don’t want to deny it. It tells me you belong to me and I to you. Tell me you feel it, too.” He sounded almost desperate in his plea. It broke my heart a little. At the same time it skipped a beat. It didn’t matter that he had been the jerk of all jerks when we’d met. I was compassionate enough to understand why and let it go. He had found something in me that broke through his shield, something he needed; not only had he let me in, but he’d pulled me through. Which said a lot. So the way he had treated me didn’t matter. This man in front of me was the real Daxton McArthur. And I wanted him.

“I do. I feel it, too.”

The need in his eyes intensified as his hand moved to my neck and gripped me tight. It was possessive, claiming, and a complete turn-on. My breathing accelerated and came out in small puffs.

“I know I promised we would take this slow, but I need to be inside you. Say yes.”

The desire in his eyes overwhelmed my senses. I squirmed in his lap and could feel his hardness pressing against me. It felt so good all I could do was whimper. The desire turned into raw hunger as he pushed up against me.

“Say yes, Em. I need you to say the word,” he gritted through clenched teeth. He was holding on by a thread. I could see and feel it vibrating through his entire body.

“Ye—“

He crashed his mouth to mine before I could finish. Then all thought left my mind as he kissed me, taking me, claiming me while worshipping my mouth at the same time. He groaned when his tongue dueled with mine and I moved against him. Then my back was against the couch and he was on top of me, my legs around his waist. Our hands were frantic as we started exploring each other. He whipped my sweater over my head and then stared at his hand with passion-filled eyes as it glided over my shoulder then down between my breasts.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. Then his tongue tasted the skin at my neck, drifting down slowly, savoring every inch as he kissed and nipped along the way. It was driving me crazy. “God, Em, the way you taste… I know I’ll never get enough of you.”

When his mouth closed over my lace-covered nipple, I couldn’t help but groan and push my center against his. “Daxton…” He worked my breast, then moved to the other. But it wasn’t enough. I needed his mouth back on my skin. Impatient, I gripped my bra cup and pulled it down roughly, the friction causing me to hiss. Then his mouth was there, his tongue playing, lapping, teasing, his teeth nipping and biting, his hand squeezing and massaging. It felt so good I never wanted it to end.

“Fuck, woman. You taste like heaven.”

My stomach dipped as I felt the heat and wetness growing between my legs. My fingers shook as I took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, while his mouth moved back to mine and his hand kept at my breasts, his thumb alternating between circling and flicking my nipple. Then his shirt was gone and his naked chest touched mine. You now that moment when your naked chest touches your partner’s for the first time? It’s overwhelming and arousing, yet soothing and comforting at the same time. It’s perfect. Daxton ripped his mouth from mine, and we both stopped breathing as we stared into each other’s eyes. I knew I wouldn’t forget this moment for as long as I lived. And neither would he. It was spelled out for me to read clearly.

He held my eyes as he brushed his lips gently against mine. “Keep going,” he whispered through small kisses. I didn’t need any encouragement. My hands and breathing were steady now as I undid his pants and pushed them over his hips then down his legs, using my feet when I couldn’t reach to get them off completely. Then he did the same to me, never breaking eye contact, both of us calm now, in no rush, as if we knew we could savor the moment because we would have hundreds, thousands more of them. It was as if we were in a trance, as if something had clicked into place, something we both trusted would stay that way forever.

When we were both naked, he lay back on top of me, our bodies touching from chest to toes, his hardness nestled against my heat.

“You know this is it. You feel it, too.” It wasn’t a question.

Still, I answered, “This is it.”

He brushed a lock of my hair out of my face as he said, “I don’t have a condom.”

I did. Upstairs in my bedroom. I’d never gone without one, not even in my two-year relationship with Mark. But I didn’t want to bring that up nor leave him to get one, didn’t want to break this perfect moment. And I wanted to feel all of him. “I’m on the pill.”

”You trust me?” I nodded without hesitation. Call me crazy—again— but I did. I knew he wouldn’t put me in danger.

“Good,” he whispered, “I trust you, too.”

“Good.” My whisper turned into a broken breath as he moved his hips and glided through my folds.

He smiled and kissed my nose. “You ready for me to make love to you?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

We held each other’s eyes as he slowly sunk into me, taking me gently, inch by inch until he filled me. That connection I’d talked about? That click that had locked into place? It solidified when our bodies became one, when we made gentle love to each other. Solidified in a way it was cemented on our souls.

That night, on Christmas Eve, a day that had been hard for both of us for many years, by my lit Christmas tree, in front of a blazing fire, Daxton MacArthur and I started something, something we both knew was big.

We started.

There would be obstacles, there would come hard times. Life was life.

But we both knew this wouldn’t end until one of us took their last breath.

And maybe even beyond.

It was the best Christmas ever.

The End.