around her boots and a swirl of leaves chased her down the path. Guess she’d get to see him, tell him, after all.
She knocked lightly on the door, waited. When she tested the handle and it turned, unlocked, she called out his name and then let herself in.
He stood by a double bed. Clothes were piled up in a suitcase lying open on the quilt. He ran a hand back over that stubborn curl of hair and waited.
“I knocked,” she said, crossing over to join him, reciting the words again in her head. “I wanted to see you before you left. I needed to tell you...”
With his gaze piercing hers, he prodded. “Tell me what?”
“It’s about today. About the last few days, really.”
He waited another beat. “Go on.”
She lifted her chin and then crumbled…let it all out.
“I’m sorry, Damon. So sorry. I was upset. More upset than I’ve ever been in my life. I don’t want to be angry with you. I don’t want to be angry with anyone .” A suffocating ache pushed further up her throat. “But I can’t stop worrying about that baby. I’ve called but Krystal won’t pick up. I only want to make sure they got home all right. She must know that I’d worry.”
He wrapped his arms around her then, and held her so tight, there was a heartbeat when she almost forgot how much she hurt.
“I keep telling myself,” she said, “it will be all right. The baby will probably be fine.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “But probably isn’t nearly good enough.”
He leaned his unshaven cheek against her head. “No. No, it’s not.”
“If Shelley were mine, I’d make sure she had the best life I could possible give her. I can picture her in first grade with piggy-tails, at graduation with her friends. Getting married to a man who isn’t anything like ‘dear old dad’.”
Or grandad.
Emma exhaled, pressed her face into his sweater while he rubbed her back, kissed her crown. “I’ve been thinking a lot, too,” he said.
When he held off saying more, Emma wiped her wet cheeks. His family was waiting. There was another far less complicated life for Damon Knight away from Point St. Claire.
And still, he kept looking at her. Just looking. Making her sweat.
Well, if he wouldn’t say it, she’d say it for him.
“I’ve held you up long enough. You need to get to the airport, catch your flight.”
He caught her shoulders. “Do you really think I could leave you now?”
“Damon, your bag is packed.”
“I packed,” he said, “to come stay with you.” His hand curled around the back of her neck as his lips brushed hers. “I was tired of waiting for an invitation.”
Christmas Day, December 25
Emma woke up Christmas morning in a room she didn’t immediately know, with a feeling she’d never experienced before and man she wanted to keep for the rest of her life.
But she was a big girl. Santa wasn’t real and while the notion was bliss, miracles rarely happened. Still, for now, as Damon Knight gently woke her, she would happily accept every gift he had to bestow.
Just how many ways where there to kiss?
Everywhere he touched, with his hands or his tongue or his teeth, was flooded with a rush of heated longing. It was as if she were a well being filled to the brim, drenched to near bursting. Every move he made was purely, utterly, only about her.
But the more he woke and stroked her, the more Emma remembered of the day before.
“Damon?”
He didn’t stop kissing and nibbling her neck…her shoulder. “Hmm?”
“I feel guilty.”
She felt his smile spread against her skin. “Guilt is not the emotion I’m after.”
“Your family will hate me, taking you away from them like this.”
“Didn’t we talk about this?”
“You’ve probably got a dozen messages.”
He’d turned off his phone not long after she’d arrived the previous night. They’d spent all the hours until dawn getting to know one another in every way possible. He’d brought her so high so many times, Emma had finally
She knocked lightly on the door, waited. When she tested the handle and it turned, unlocked, she called out his name and then let herself in.
He stood by a double bed. Clothes were piled up in a suitcase lying open on the quilt. He ran a hand back over that stubborn curl of hair and waited.
“I knocked,” she said, crossing over to join him, reciting the words again in her head. “I wanted to see you before you left. I needed to tell you...”
With his gaze piercing hers, he prodded. “Tell me what?”
“It’s about today. About the last few days, really.”
He waited another beat. “Go on.”
She lifted her chin and then crumbled…let it all out.
“I’m sorry, Damon. So sorry. I was upset. More upset than I’ve ever been in my life. I don’t want to be angry with you. I don’t want to be angry with anyone .” A suffocating ache pushed further up her throat. “But I can’t stop worrying about that baby. I’ve called but Krystal won’t pick up. I only want to make sure they got home all right. She must know that I’d worry.”
He wrapped his arms around her then, and held her so tight, there was a heartbeat when she almost forgot how much she hurt.
“I keep telling myself,” she said, “it will be all right. The baby will probably be fine.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “But probably isn’t nearly good enough.”
He leaned his unshaven cheek against her head. “No. No, it’s not.”
“If Shelley were mine, I’d make sure she had the best life I could possible give her. I can picture her in first grade with piggy-tails, at graduation with her friends. Getting married to a man who isn’t anything like ‘dear old dad’.”
Or grandad.
Emma exhaled, pressed her face into his sweater while he rubbed her back, kissed her crown. “I’ve been thinking a lot, too,” he said.
When he held off saying more, Emma wiped her wet cheeks. His family was waiting. There was another far less complicated life for Damon Knight away from Point St. Claire.
And still, he kept looking at her. Just looking. Making her sweat.
Well, if he wouldn’t say it, she’d say it for him.
“I’ve held you up long enough. You need to get to the airport, catch your flight.”
He caught her shoulders. “Do you really think I could leave you now?”
“Damon, your bag is packed.”
“I packed,” he said, “to come stay with you.” His hand curled around the back of her neck as his lips brushed hers. “I was tired of waiting for an invitation.”
Christmas Day, December 25
Emma woke up Christmas morning in a room she didn’t immediately know, with a feeling she’d never experienced before and man she wanted to keep for the rest of her life.
But she was a big girl. Santa wasn’t real and while the notion was bliss, miracles rarely happened. Still, for now, as Damon Knight gently woke her, she would happily accept every gift he had to bestow.
Just how many ways where there to kiss?
Everywhere he touched, with his hands or his tongue or his teeth, was flooded with a rush of heated longing. It was as if she were a well being filled to the brim, drenched to near bursting. Every move he made was purely, utterly, only about her.
But the more he woke and stroked her, the more Emma remembered of the day before.
“Damon?”
He didn’t stop kissing and nibbling her neck…her shoulder. “Hmm?”
“I feel guilty.”
She felt his smile spread against her skin. “Guilt is not the emotion I’m after.”
“Your family will hate me, taking you away from them like this.”
“Didn’t we talk about this?”
“You’ve probably got a dozen messages.”
He’d turned off his phone not long after she’d arrived the previous night. They’d spent all the hours until dawn getting to know one another in every way possible. He’d brought her so high so many times, Emma had finally
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