When We Are Enough (Valiant Hearts #1)

22. Patrick

Chapter 22

Patrick

W e’re lying side by side in bed, the room dark except for a sliver of blue moonlight that cuts across Emmy’s smooth bare stomach. My heart is still pounding, a heady feeling rushing through me like I’ve just come off a rollercoaster or ridden a speedboat through the harbor at full throttle.

I know what we just did was a mistake, but I couldn’t have stopped myself if my life depended on it. The crazy attraction between us is too strong. Call it what you will: chemistry, fate, destiny. Something is pulling me remorselessly toward her.

We’re staring at one another, her eyes wide and filled with the same mixture of contentment and confusion that I feel. And so we lie there, the moonlight our only witness, and for the first time in a long time, there’s a sense of peace. No matter how wrong this might be, at this moment, it feels like the only thing that’s right.

Slowly, I reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger against the sun-kissed gold of her skin. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, and when they open again, they’re locked on mine.

Tracing my finger down her cheek, along her neck, and over her collarbone, finally coming to rest on her stomach. The moonlight glows against her skin, highlighting the curve of her belly, the blossoming of her waist. I start tracing lazy circles around her belly button, the silk of her skin taut under my fingertips. She shivers slightly at my touch, her breath hitching.

“Patrick…” Her voice is filled with uncertainty and something else—something that shifts me even closer to her. I’m on my side, wrapped around her, and she fits right up against me, almost like she was made just for me.

“I know.” My voice is low. “I know this is complicated, but I can’t help wanting you. I can’t stop thinking about you. Even with everything going on.”

Her hand comes to rest on my hand, her fingers curling around mine. Her touch is electric, sending a current running through my entire body. I lean in, my forehead resting against hers, and for a moment, we just breathe together, the world outside forgotten, the way she looks at me hollowing me out.

“I want you so bad it hurts,” she admits softly. “But I know we shouldn’t do this.”

I close my eyes, feeling the weight of her words, and my own heart echoes the sentiment. “I meant it when I said I don’t have time for a relationship. My life is just too…”

Too what? Too busy? Too boring? Like I’m living the same day on repeat every single morning. The sacrifices are worth it for the people I love, but it’s impossible to ignore that voice in the back of my head that’s been wanting more, especially when Emmy is lying naked in front of me.

“I’m not looking for a relationship, either.” She breaks eye contact. “I just got out of a situation.”

I wait for her to continue, but she’s staring at the ceiling, the slightest spike of tension tightening the lean muscles in her shoulders.

“A situation?”

She turns back to look at me. Lying in the quiet darkness, it’s hard to understand the whirlwind of emotions flashing in her eyes. It’s then I finally see it—the deep, raw hurt she’s been hiding. It’s there behind her gaze, in the way she bites her lower lip. I’m kicking myself for not seeing it before.

All my protective instincts rush to the forefront, a fierce need to look after her pulsing through me. I’d do anything for the people I care about, and right now, all I want is to take her pain away.

“Emmy.” My voice breaks the silence. “You can trust me. Tell me what happened.”

She looks at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine, as if weighing the decision to open up. Finally, she takes a deep breath, her gaze dropping to where our fingers are intertwined.

“I’m not saying this because I want attention or sympathy. And I’m only telling you because you asked.”

I nod, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m here, Emmy. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Her words come reluctantly, in stops and starts. “I was engaged... up until recently. We were supposed to get married in a few months.” She pauses. “I came home early from what was supposed to be an all-night shift.”

I stay silent, my eyes on her as I wait for her to continue, already knowing how this story ends, even if I’m not sure of the specifics.

“When I walked into our apartment, I found my twin sister... in bed with my fiancé.” Her voice breaks on the last word.

Shock and disgust surge through me, my jaw tightening as I process what she just said. “Emmy, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, pulling her closer, my arms wrapping around her protectively. “That’s... I can’t believe they did that to you.”

She shudders against me. “I don’t know how to hate her, Patrick. She’s my sister, and part of me will always love her. But it hurts.”

“What about him?”

She lets out a small, bitter laugh. “I’ll be happy if I never see him again. He was wrong for me from the start. Right on paper, the perfect guy according to my parents, but when I was with him, it was like I was… sleepwalking through my life. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” I stroke the silk of her hair, my body wrapping around her. “I know what you mean. Fuck. I can’t believe your own sister would do that to you.”

She looks up at me, a smile that looks forced going into place, her eyes pools of vulnerability. “It’s really nothing. People go through a lot worse. Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

I press a soft kiss to her forehead. I need her to know I’d never do that to her. “You’re safe with me, Emmy.”

Her stare fixes on me, eyes ticking between mine. “Are you going to tell me what you were dreaming about?”

Her words take me by surprise. Shame and guilt get swallowed down, fast. “I’m not really ready to talk about it.”

For a long moment she looks at me, maybe seeing how much it would cost me to relive certain memories, and she leans in, the tenderness of her kiss, sweet, understanding.

“So, what are we doing here?” She pushes herself up on her elbows, her pink and yellow pajama tank top a scrunched ribbon around her waist. She goes to pull it up, but I grab her hands, cuffing them loosely over her head, savoring the sight of her.

My hungry mouth moves to her breast, my lips circling her pink nipple until it hardens, and she goes taut as a bowstring before arcing into me. I’m craving her, needing her all over again. My tongue traces its way to her other breast, and her head falls back. She lets out a pleading whimper, a low plaintive cry of pure need.

The slink of muscles in her torso clenches and unclenches with each movement of my mouth, my teeth. Nipping and soothing. Her fingers dig into the bedsheets, desperately trying to hold on to something as she surrenders to the pleasure coursing through her.

“You’re just going to keep distracting me, aren’t you?” She lets out another soft moan.

Distraction . One I said I definitely don’t have time for. My hungry lips skim the surface of her skin, my basest needs pulling me down toward her pussy, wanting to taste her, to be sheathed fully inside her again, to feel that release, hers and mine. But my head is yanking me in an entirely different direction.

There’s a damned hurricane barreling toward us. I have my family to think of, my crew, all the volunteers for the Valiant Hearts. Danny’s dad. They all pile up in my mind, standing one on top of the other, huge, insurmountable, a towering peak of responsibility that I can’t ignore.

I drag my lips off her, let her hands go, fall back down on the bed beside her. Now we’re both staring at the blackened ceiling, like the answers might be written up there in invisible ink, like if we stare hard enough, they might be revealed to us.

I have to be honest with her, and it’s not like my next words are going to come as any surprise. A swallow, my mouth dry. “I would never hurt you like your sister and that guy, Emmy, but I really don’t have space in my life for a relationship. And I don’t want to start something where I end up hurting you because we want different things.” A frown tightens my forehead, a tension headache coming on. “Although I don’t know if I can stay away from you.”

She rolls over, draping herself on my chest, her breasts pressed against me, her hands bracketing my face. She feels so fragile, even though I know she’s strong, and my hands go around her almost instinctively, tracing the fine bones of her shoulder blades, the neat line of her spine, the small indentations just above her ass.

“I don’t know if I can stay away from you either.” Her words are a little ragged as her fingers spear through my hair, tugging, teasing, her eyelids lowering as her warm leg slides across the thick of my thighs, brushing against my cock. “I want you, even though I have a list of reasons why this is a bad idea. ”

“You made a list?”

She swats my shoulder playfully. “Yes. I have a long list of all the reasons why Patrick O’Connor is a bad idea.” She pauses. “Maybe we don’t need to define this. Neither of us wants a relationship, and something simple and uncomplicated sounds good right about now.”

“So, this is just sex? Nothing serious?”

“Just sex, just two people enjoying themselves, but it needs to stay secret. I can’t have your mom or Granny Sloane finding out about it.” Her voice twists, her gaze filling with a fierce intensity. “Promise me. Don’t breathe a word to anyone. I don’t want to lose my job.”

I’m not sure how my mom and Granny Sloane would react to me and Emmy getting involved. I know they like Emmy, but they probably wouldn’t think this was the best idea. Not with everything else going on. Not when she was hired to care for Granny Sloane. And the sad truth is, us getting involved probably paints Emmy in a worse light than me. I have sisters. I know how it’s somehow always the woman’s fault.

Besides, Mom knows better than anyone that I have my hands full, that there are a lot of people relying on me, and that all it takes is one mistake and bad things can happen. Keeping this secret is probably for the best. I can handle my obligations and a bit of time with Emmy, but I don’t want Mom questioning me, doubting me.

My hands reach up and tangle in Emmy’s hair. “I promise,” I reply. “This is just between us. No strings, we don’t owe each other anything. We’re just enjoying ourselves a little, letting off some steam. The moment this doesn’t work for you, just let me know.”

I pull her tightly against me, surrounding her with my arms, feeling the cream of her skin against the rough of mine. She’s so perfect in my embrace. A perfect secret. I can keep that.

“Blowing off steam. I like the sound of that,” she whispers. As her soft lips lower onto mine, she climbs all the way on top, her wetness sliding over me as I get hard all over again.

Her hair falls over my face—the scent a mix of cherry blossoms and something uniquely hers. She moans softly into my mouth, and the hunger is back, burning deep inside, and I’m a desperate man who’s been lost at sea for weeks—thirsty for her softness, her taste, her heat.

Whatever this is, this unbearable attraction between us, it’s growing stronger, like an unstoppable force of nature. I pull away slightly, panting as I look into her eyes. Hers darken. She wants this just as much as me.

Then my mouth trails down her cheek to her neck, nipping at the sensitive spot below her earlobe. I taste the ocean on her neck, the saltiness of her desire mingling with the cherry blossoms of her hair, and her possessive fingers run over my chest, holding on to me as if this moment is all we have left in this world. We shouldn’t be doing this, but neither of us can stop.

A foil packet from the nightstand, then she’s reaching down, grabbing me and guiding me to her, lowering herself slowly. Her gasp as she rocks forward, bringing me all the way inside her, then we’re grinding against each other, greedy, insatiable.

Her nails digging into my chest, my hands tight on her hips, thrusting, burying myself inside her, sinking deeper into Emmy Brooks, our rhythm becoming ragged, disorienting.

I’m losing my fucking mind.