Emerson was hesitant when I dragged her on top of me, and I knew why. That asshole’s words from when I saved her from him rang in a deep part of my memory.
She’s not worth it. She’s boring in bed. I’d be doing you a favor if I took her off your hands, save you the used-up pussy.
If he said that shit to me, I was more than willing to believe he said it to her, making her believe she wasn’t good in bed, when the opposite is true.
I’ve had a lot of fucking sex. I’ve fucked models, actresses, hookers, and everyone in between with varying skill levels. But it’s never felt like it does with Emerson. When I sink into her pussy, it feels like she was made for me, like everything is right with the world as long as I’m inside her, and I’m not willing to believe that my little hellcat has ever been anything other than a goddess in bed, even if thinking about her fucking other men makes me want to go back to Brad’s shithole apartment and tear his arms off just for touching my woman when I didn’t even know she existed. Okay, so maybe Emerson makes me a little irrational.
The moment I sunk into her this morning I knew that’s how I wanted to start every day of the rest of my damn life, just proving that the wheels I’ve set into motion over the last few days are what’s best for us both.
Emerson freezes in my arms. Telling her I want to fuck her every morning for the rest of our lives seemed so natural to me in the moment, more natural than breathing, but she doesn’t seem to share that sentiment.
“Forever?” she murmurs the question.
I take a moment to calm myself, knowing I can’t lose my shit if she blows up. I have to be calm and collected if I have any chance of her agreeing to it. Not that it matters if she does or not, she’ll be doing as she’s told regardless, but it will be a lot more comfortable for her if she just gets with the program to begin with. “Yes, sweet girl. Forever.” It seems so obvious to me, but I’ve been mulling this over and putting wheels in motion since the first time our eyes met, I have to give her a chance to catch up, even if it goes against everything I am to be patient.
Emerson scrambles off my lap before I can catch her and a moment she’s on the other side of the room, her arms desperately trying to cover her naked body despite the fact I’ve seen it all before. She’s trying to put a barrier between us, but it won’t work.
I perch on the edge of the bed and watch her with one dark brow raised. She’s staring at me as if I’ve just sprouted an extra head. Her mind is running a mile a minute, I see it in the way her green eyes flick between me and the door and back again. I don’t think she’ll run again, I think we got that much clear last night, but honestly, I can’t be sure. Emerson keeps me guessing, and it’s part of her appeal.
“I think I’d like to go home now,” she says quietly as she turns toward the wardrobe she shouldn’t step into before we have this conversation, but before I have the chance to stand to stop her she’s gone.
I count the seconds in my head before the explosion.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
“What the fuck?” The door to the wardrobe swings open and Emerson appears in the doorway looking a mixture of furious and terrified. “Please don’t tell me I just became the other woman, Rayne? I will not ruin a relationship, that’s not me.” She storms toward me and I want to reach out and haul her back into bed, but I resist the urge and allow her to stand in front of me, her hands on her hips, waiting for my response.
She’s tugged one of my shirts over her head so at least she’s not naked anymore, but her anger is fucking adorable.
“There’s no other woman,” I tell her calmly, offering no additional details about the half a wardrobe of women’s clothing she’s just seen.
“Then who the fuck do those clothes belong to?” She gestures toward the door she’s just stormed out of. The fire in her eyes only serves to stir my cock back to life.
“Are you jealous, sweet girl?”
She stares at me incredulously. “Of course not.”
“I think you are.” I stand from the bed and tower over her with my frame. Each step she takes back, I’m taking one toward her.
“Answer me,” Emerson growls as she hits the wall.
Nowhere left to run, sweet girl.
I bring both hands up on either side of her head and bring my eyes down to meet hers. My answer is going to detonate her like an atomic bomb, and I want to watch the anger explode in the green that keeps me captivated. “Ask me again.”
“Who do the clothes belong to, Rayne?” she huffs, her brows pulling together in frustration.
“You.” The answer is simple. After my initial message to Snow to pick up some dresses for Emerson, I asked her to pick up some things for the penthouse so Emerson wouldn’t have to lug a bag backward and forward. I thought I would have more time to pack her up and move her in, but now Russo is sending men to retrieve my woman. She doesn’t have any say in the matter.
She isn’t getting time.
She’s being told what’s happening and she’ll need to learn to live with that because she doesn’t have a choice in the matter. Not when it’s her life at risk.
She stares at me for long moments, her mouth dropping open as if out of all my possible answers that was the most shocking one. Some of the anger her eyes held a moment ago has dimmed as she works to process what I’ve just said. “I don’t understand.”
“Snow got carried away when I asked her to shop for you,” I explain, choosing my next words carefully before I let them slip from my lips. “I always knew you would move in here eventually, but in the meantime thought you should have clothes, skincare, those kinds of things here so you wouldn’t have to pack a bag every time you stayed over.”
Her shoulders seem to relax slightly, but it’s clear she’s missed the underlying message of what I’ve just said. “Oh.”
“Sweet girl,” I whisper, moving one of my hands to her hip to hold her in place. She’s going to run any moment, and I want to catch her before she can. “I’m sure you realize that what happened last night changes things.”
Emerson stares at me with confusion. “How so?”
“There are movers at your apartment at the moment. Your stuff will be here in a couple of hours.”
Confusion morphs into anger, which morphs into blinding rage, only serving to make my cock hard again. I’d always been able to go again quickly, but not this fucking quick. Emerson takes a deep breath, closing her eyes to center herself from my proximity.
If I were a better man, I would give her some space to breathe, give her room to let what I’m saying to her sink in.
But I’ve never claimed to be a good man. I’m the fucking devil.
“I’m going to need you to back up a little bit so I understand.”
“Russo sent someone to collect you last night, sweet girl. He’s only going to send others, and the only way I can ensure your safety is for you to be here, with me, and with the best security system in the damn city.”
Emerson closes her eyes, the conflict in her body obvious in the way she tenses under my hold of her hip. “You basically told me you’re the boogeyman of Chicago last night, doesn’t that translate to me being off-limits to scum like Russo?”
I chuckle. “The boogeyman of Chicago?”
“Serial killer doesn’t really have the same ring to it,” she snaps.
I sigh. “Russo is our rival. The fact you’re mine probably only makes the chase more exciting for him. If he can get his grubby hands on you, he gets the pretty girl, and he gets to hurt the Saint James family. It’s a two for one.”
Emerson blanches, all the color disappears from her cheeks as realization washes over her. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the only place you’re safe is with me. I’m saying that you’re moving in, effective immediately, and will not leave this building without me or a member of security. This is about your safety, and therefore it isn’t up for negotiation.”
