Page 65 of Emma's Element

“A little groggy. My head hurts. But otherwise, I’m good.”

“I think I have some pain killers in my pack. I’ll get them for you.” She was about to get up, but he stopped her.

“Not yet,” insisted Marcus. “You feel too good right here.” She hummed again when he brought his other hand over to lightly stroke her skin from her back to the side of her breast. Then he moved his hand lower. With her leg thrown across him, she was open for him. He delved into her folds and found the sensitive bud. He toyed with it, and she jerked, thrusting her hips against his hand.

“Marcus,” she breathed just before he claimed her mouth with his own. She was so responsive; it didn’t take much until she was writhing in pleasure against him. He turned them slightly until they lay side to side, her leg wrapped around his hip, leaving her open for him. He slid easily inside her, she hummed, and he moaned.

“You feel . . . so good,” she panted in between his thrusts. He couldn’t agree more. She felt like heaven. She was tight and so warm. It was all he could do to hold off his release. He reached between them and circled her clit with his thumb. Emma threw her head back and arched against him. He clamped his lips on her neck, nipping and tasting as he thrust into her harder. All too soon, she plunged over the edge, pulsing around him. He followed, unable to hold back his release any longer.

Together they slowly floated back to reality. The room had brightened, the storm had passed. He was pretty sure the Nighthawks would be here soon. But right at this moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wanted to hold this amazing woman in his arms for a bit longer. All day if he could.

“We should probably get cleaned up and dressed. The guys might be here soon,” she said and moved to get up. “Come on, Titan. I’ll wash your back if you wash mine.”

“Deal,” he answered, rising to his feet then groaned as pain lanced through his head. She noticed and bent to her pack producing a bottle of pain-killers. Grateful, he accepted them and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. After swallowing three tablets, he grabbed his pack and joined Emma in the shower, where they shared another exhilarating round of love-making.

They were in the kitchen looking for something to eat when they heard the sound of engines. They both froze. “That doesn’t sound like the helicopter,” she remarked.

He went to the windows and looked for the source of the sound. A large SUV was making its way to the cabin through the snow. Marcus could just make out a handful of men inside, one of which was Charlie. “Shit. It’s them.”

“How did they find us?” He wondered that too.

“Grab your stuff. We’ll leave out the back.” But instead of getting her pack, Emma raced to the hall closet. He heard a few beeps and the snick of a lock being released. She came back out with guns and ammunition.

“You know how to shoot, right?” He nodded and took the Glock and its magazine from her. He loaded it and chambered a round. Then he noticed the shotgun in the safe. He grabbed that as well as its ammunition. Emma snatched her pack and proceeded to the back door. He bent for his pack when Emma cried out.

A man he hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years stood behind her, his hand gripping Emma’s throat, a gun pointed at her side.

Harrison Rayne.

His father.

Marcus met Emma’s levelheaded gaze briefly before pulling the Glock from his waistband and aiming it over her shoulder at his father. “Let her go,” he ordered.

Harrison’s guffaw brought a molten fire surging through his blood. “Not a chance,” he spat.

Charlie and his minions from the clearing broke through the front door with less finesse than Harrison, aiming more guns at him. Marcus didn’t have a chance of defeating them all, but that didn’t make him lower his weapon. “I suggest you hand that gun over to my associates unless you want to be responsible for killing this delectable woman,” His father said, squeezing her neck tighter.

Trapped and not wanting to risk Emma’s life, he handed it and the shotgun to one of the thugs. “Search him,” Charlie ordered. Marcus, of course, had nothing else on him, but Emma did.

“Okay, your turn,” Harrison said to Emma. “I’ve heard a lot about you, darlin’. I’m betting you never go anywhere without some kind of weapon.”

“I’d be happy to search her, boss,” Shorty leered. Marcus gritted his teeth against the need to rip the man’s hands off as he helplessly watched Shorty pat down Emma with a little too much fervor. Emma endured the man’s excessive groping even as her eyes narrowed in anger. His own rage surged through his blood, seeing that man’s hands on her. He wanted nothing more than to tear Shorty’s head off but wouldn’t risk Emma’s safety.

Shorty found Emma’s pocketknife after rooting around in her pants pocket for an obscene amount of time. He flipped out the knife, eyeing it with gleeful menace. He drew the flat side of the blade suggestively down her arm before folding it and slipping it into his pocket.

Marcus breathed a sigh of relief when Harrison waved Shorty off. He was even more grateful the idiot didn’t know enough to look in her boot where she kept that wonderful ka-bar.

“What do you want, Dad,” Marcus sneered the moniker.

Emma visibly jolted with a gasp. “This asshole is your father?”

“We use that term loosely for the asshole, but yeah. Emma, meet Harrison Rayne, my sperm donor.”

She snorted. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but it’s really not.” Marcus wanted to laugh, leave it to Emma to brighten such a dire situation.

He studied the man who’d made their lives hell for the first thirteen years of his existence. As a kid, he thought his father was a giant who towered over him. And he’d used that height to terrorize his wife and children. But now, Marcus was shocked to discover he had to look down at his father with a good five inches of height over Harrison.

The man no longer appeared intimidating. The last twenty years hadn’t exactly been unkind to him; he still had all his hair, although now liberally laced with silver. The lines on his face were deeper, showing his age. He was thin and looked in decent shape, yet at the same time, he no longer had the stature of the monster he’d once feared.

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