Emma gasps, and her free hand grips my shoulder hard. “I’m—oh god?—”
“I’ve got you,” I tell her. “Come for me, Emma. Let me feel it.”
Emma falls apart with a cry, her whole body shaking, clenching around me so tight I nearly lose control.
“Fuck—Emma—I’m?—”
“Inside,” Emma gasps, grabbing at me wildly. “I want you to—” Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine—dark and glazed with pleasure. I don’t need to be told twice. Three more thrusts and I follow her over the edge, spilling inside her with a groan that comes from somewhere deep in my chest.
For a long moment we just stay like that, both breathing hard, our bodies still joined. Emma’s hands are gentle now, one in my hair and one stroking down my back, and I realize I’m trembling.
“You okay?” Emma asks softly.
“Yeah,” I manage, but my voice is rough. “More than okay.”
I pull out carefully and roll to the side, pulling Emma with me so she’s tucked against my chest. She fits perfectly there, her head on my shoulder, one leg thrown over mine, our bodies still slick with sweat.
“That was…” Emma starts, then trails off.
“Yeah,” I agree, because I don’t have words for it either. My body is still buzzing and I’m suddenly very tired.
We lie there in the quiet, neither of us willing to move or break the moment. The afternoon light is shifting, getting lower, turning everything golden. I trace idle patterns on Emma’s bare shoulder, following the curve of it, marveling at how soft her skin is.
“Leo?” Emma says after a while.
“Mm?”
“What are we doing?” she asks quietly, almost hesitantly.
I’m silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer that. “I don’t know,” I finally admit. “But I don’t want to stop.”
Emma props herself up on her elbow to look at me, and I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. “I don’t either,” she says. “But we should probably talk about?—”
“Later,” I interrupt, pulling her back down against my chest. “We’ll talk later. Right now I just want to hold you.”
Emma settles back against me with a soft sigh. “Okay. Later. Just…don’t disappear again.”
We fall asleep like that, tangled together in my bed with the late afternoon sun warming our skin.
After that, sleeping with Emma becomes a regular occurrence.
We don’t talk about what it means. We don’t define it or put labels on it or examine it too closely. We just…exist in this spacewe’ve created where she’s still technically my captive but the lines have blurred to the point of meaningless.
Emma has free run of the estate now and she sleeps in my bed most nights anyway. I ask her opinion on business matters during breakfast, and she gives me thoughtful, intelligent answers that make me see things from new angles.
We have dinner together every night, debating everything from politics to philosophy to whetherDie Hardis a Christmas movie—it absolutely is, but Emma disagrees. We read in the library together, each in our own chair but close enough that our feet touch. We watch movies in the screening room, sharing popcorn and arguing about plot holes.
And at night, we come together in my bed, our bodies learning each other in the dark.
I learn that Emma likes it when I kiss the spot just below her ear. That she makes this specific sound when I touch her a certain way. That she’s self-conscious about the small scar on her hip from when she fell off her bike as a kid, but I kiss it anyway until she stops trying to hide it.
Emma learns that I can’t sleep without touching her—my hand on her hip, her head on my chest, our legs tangled together. That I like it when she takes control sometimes. That I have nightmares about Gabriel but her presence somehow makes them less frequent.
Something’s changing. I can feel it happening even though I don’t want to name it. This thing between us that started as revenge and captivity has transformed into something I don’t have words for.
A month ago, I took Emma Brennan to hurt her father.
Now, I wake up with her in my arms and can’t imagine my mornings without her. I look forward to our debates over breakfast more than any business meeting. I find myself thinking about her during the day, wondering what she’s doing, what she’s thinking.