When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

21. Emmy

Chapter 21

Emmy

S tanding outside Patrick’s door in the dark, the house is eerily quiet. My hand hovers over the doorknob. What the hell am I doing here? The rational part of my mind tells me to go back to bed, but then he calls out again, his voice filled with raw urgency. It sounds like he’s calling for help.

Before I can stop myself, I open the door and step inside, a narrow strip of moonlight cutting across the room, leading my gaze straight to Patrick’s bed. He’s shirtless, wearing only thin sweatpants, his muscles rippling as he tosses and turns, a sheet tangled around his body.

“We have to find her!” The pain in his voice slices through the last of my reserves.

Crossing the room quickly and sitting on the edge of the bed, a hand on his arm, shaking him gently. “Patrick, it’s just a nightmare.”

“We need to find her. Hurry!”

“Patrick. It’s okay.” My voice is louder, and I’m shaking him more firmly.

One more shake and his eyes snap open, wild and unfocused, before he sits up abruptly. For a moment, he looks at me like he doesn’t know who I am, blue eyes wide, panic etched into his features. His body trembles, his breaths shallow. He looks so alone, like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“It’s okay.” The urge to comfort him is overwhelming. My arms go around him, his skin slick with sweat despite the cool air. His bedroom is dark, spartan, but his heat is the center of the room, a sun pulling me into his orbit.

“You’re safe, Patrick. It was just a nightmare.”

He slowly begins to relax, his breathing evening out as he leans into my embrace, the tension draining from his body. After a few moments, he pulls back slightly, the stormy blue of his eyes clearer now, though still shadowed with whatever haunted his dreams.

“Emmy?” His voice is hoarse.

“I’m here.”

His hand moves up to cup my face, and he stares at me, pupils darkening in a way that makes my heart stutter. Deep moody blue pulling me in with an almost ferocious intensity. His lips are slightly parted as if he is about to speak, but can’t find the words. Every line of his face is etched with desire.

Then his other hand moves to my arm, his fingers grazing my skin. The broad, hard lines of his body angle toward me, his bare chest nearly touching me, the movement of his fingers on me both fierce and tender, muscles rippling and lean, panther-like.

We shouldn’t be doing this. But it feels so right. For a long moment, time stops and we just sit there, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around us like a cocoon. In the moonlight, he looks like a Greek god, so perfect he couldn’t possibly be real.

Then it’s like a switch is flipped. The look in his eyes shifts and it’s clear he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. All thoughts of shouldn’t and mustn’t dissolve: his hand slides to the soft of my neck and pulls me closer, his seeking lips crashing down on mine with a desperation bordering on crazed.

It’s a kiss that takes my breath away, that makes me forget my long list of why not . A sharp inhale escapes me as he gives in to the desire that’s been building between us. His other hand goes around me and he pulls me down and onto the bed, so I’m flat on my back.

Next thing he’s on top of me, the weight of his thighs between the smooth of my legs, my shorts riding up as we kiss like the world is about to end, wanting and breathless. He takes his weight on the bent arm beside my face, his bicep flexed as he continues to claim my mouth. He’s so big, the sheer weight of him a mountain of muscle.

And I’m kissing him back with just as much need, the fire in his touch intoxicating, like a drug coursing through me and I need more, need all of him. His tongue slides between my lips and he tastes so sweet, the rough stubble on his jaw and chin scraping against my skin.

His mouth moves to my neck, trailing slow kisses down to my chest, before he levers himself up and pulls my pajama tank down, freeing my breasts. He groans at the sight, almost a growl, grinding against me, his length hard as steel as the wet of his mouth moves to one breast and then the other, sucking, gentle nips with his teeth, my nipples responding, my back arching into his mouth.

My fingers dig into his skin as he pulls me closer, our hips rolling together in time. Tasting salt from his sweat, heat radiating off him as if he’s burning up from his need to have me. His hand moves between my legs, yanking my shorts and panties aside before he thrusts a finger inside me, groaning again as he moves it up to my clit, his fingers slick with my want.

A brief moment of terror: what if he sees my scars. But he doesn’t seem to notice them, and as he continues to kiss and touch me, his fingers circling my sensitive bud before thrusting inside me again, circling and thrusting. An electric wave of pleasure courses through me, making me forget about everything else. With each thrust of the thick of his finger, each touch of my clit, I’m unspooling around him.

I writhe but he pins my bucking hips, continuing with just the right amount of pressure, before two fingers plunge inside me, then he’s back, teasing my clit. A surge of heat emanates from my core, radiating outward through my limbs, until finally I reach the edge and surrender, shattering from the inside out. I’m broken.

Everything fades for a few seconds and I’m nothing but pleasure and lightness, but then he’s kissing me again, and I’m craving his touch like I’m an addict, like we’re two magnets pulled together by some invisible force, unable to resist the primal urge surging between us.

I reach down and tug on his waistband, and his length springs free, thick and pulsing with need, head glistening. My hand wraps around him, guiding him toward me, and the sound of his heavy breathing fills the room. His grip on my hair tightens as he moans softly against my lips, forcing his tongue deeper into my mouth, before pulling back, his eyes finding mine in the darkness.

I give a nod, words beyond me, and let him go, yanking my own shorts and panties down before kicking them off. He reaches into the nightstand, foil packet tears, then he’s back, the throbbing head of his erection teasing me. A single push and he could be inside me. It’s agony.

My head rolls back against the bed, eyes closed for a moment. “Please. I need you inside me.”

He waits until I look up at him. We lock gazes, and he pushes inside me a couple of inches, moving slowly, the thick of him verging on pain. His mouth goes down my neck again, stopping at my breast, then his tongue is sucking and flicking my nipple as he pushes all the way in, the sense of fullness making me gasp.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs against my neck.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp back, shifting my hips until he completely bottoms out.

A guttural noise escapes his lips. “Emmy, God.”

He withdraws and pushes in again, his mouth moving to my other breast, then he’s moving faster, almost frantic, quick and hard as he continues to suck my nipples, first one, then the other. His hand goes between us, thumb in just the right place, and a pulsing heat spreads through my body like wildfire once more.

My muscles tighten and spasm, begging for more as the pressure builds and rises within me. It’s like a physical force, swelling and growing until it bursts, consuming me in wave after wave as I clamp down around him, breaking all over again.

Tight wound concentration on his face, before he gives a final thrust, pushing all the way to the hilt, finishing moments behind me, eyes closed as he empties himself and falls against me, his breath warm on my skin.

My arms go around him, my lips to his stubbled jaw. Kissing the side of his face, his neck, not wanting the heat of him, his bulk, to shift from where he is right now. He seems to need it as much as me and lies there for a few moments longer, his arms taking his weight, his head turning to the side so we’re face to face.

He holds my gaze before slowly pulling out and disposing of the condom. Then he’s back. A lingering kiss on each nipple, my lips, before lying down beside me, blue eyes filled with motion even in the deep shadows, more alive than I’ve ever seen.