Page 36 of Owning Emma

“But, you’re joking, right?” she finally asked, as if she hadn’t felt the truth of my words the moment I spoke them.

“I wish I was. I really wish I was,” I admitted as I stood there, waiting for her to turn her back and continue baking. Hoping she would do something to dissipate the awkwardness I managed to spread throughout the room.

But she didn’t turn away from me. Or offer false, useless condolences to the scared ten-year-old boy in me that still saw his mother’s vacant stare as she fell to the floor, her gaze locked directly on me. No, instead she stared at me for what had to be the longest moments of my life, assessing me with her penetrating gaze before she sucked in air.

Before I had a chance to register what she was doing, her hands were around my hip as she locked me into a tight one-sided hug. I stared down at her head, her damn cheeks buried into the fabric of my black t-shirt soaking the material with her tears. I couldn’t breathe for a moment, then I waited, thinking maybe she would let go. Except for when I was unconscious, she had never willingly touched me before. And up until now, I was a hundred percent fucking okay with that. But, when it became apparent that Emma was not about to loosen her grip, I surrendered to the feel of her comfort, letting my arms wrap around her and held her close.

Hours later, I was stuck thinking not about the memories a damn cookie brought up, because those memories I was used to hitting me at random times. When I ate cookies, when I heard bells, every time I saw a Christmas tree. But, the feel of Emma’s arm wrapped around me, well that was something new. Something I could very much get used to if given a damn chance and that scared me.

It terrified me more than it should.

I watched Roman as he talked to his men on the other side of the hall. He looked up as if he could feel my gaze and smiled, then continued talking. What would Emma say if she knew the truth about me? If she knew I would take either of them, both of them in a heartbeat, with any given word? Hell, what would Roman say if he knew, or did he already suspect?

I never intended for it to be this way, but I’m not sorry it happened. Not with him, never with him. The feelings, they were never mutual, but that didn’t mean shit to me. I could watch him with women all damn night just to see bliss cross his face as he came. I was never unsatisfied. I never wanted more than I knew he was willing to give.

Until now.

Until Emma.

Now, I wanted them both, even more fiercely than before I felt her arms around me. I wanted inside of her, both figuratively and physically. I burned with the need to drink her up, to own her, to label her as mine.

Them. I wanted them as mine. And the thought was both terrifying and liberating. It made me burn with fire and freeze with ice. He wouldn’t allow it. He would never allow my touch on either of them, this I knew. But fuck, I couldn’t think of doing anything else.

---