Authors: Donna Gallagher
“I should get back to Dad. I might see if I can grab a shower and change now that I have something else to wear,” Emily said, pushing her chair back. She stood, willing her feet to move, and even as she spoke the next words she felt the heaviness in her heart. She wished she didn’t feel the need to say them, but knew she had to. “Gareth, stay with your friends, don’t let me keep you. Pippa, it was lovely to meet you, and thank you again for the clothes and stuff. Rook, nice to meet you too, and good luck with the rest of the season. That was a great try you scored last week. Can’t believe you managed to put the ball down before you went over the dead ball line. It was amazing. Anyway, thanks again.”
“Stop it, Em. Stop trying to run away from me. I told you I’m staying, so just get on board with the idea.”
“Well, look at you, Cowboy—acting all dominant. Don’t worry, Emily, it’s not like he has anywhere to go anyway. Usually he just mopes around between games and training sessions. He’s a bit antisocial, is the old Cowboy.”
“
Oh
,
my God,
Mitch! Will you just be quiet? Seriously, think before putting that mouth into gear for once, will you?”
“
What
? What did I say?”
While Pippa and Rook were distracted by their own conversation—the sight of Pippa taking Rook to task one more time amusing Emily—Gareth pulled her to his side, locking his arm into place around her, connecting her to him. He seemed determined to prove that he was serious in his promise to stay with her. Emily’s sense of relief that Gareth had not taken the chance she’d offered him to leave was immeasurable.
“C’mon, baby, let’s leave these two to their squabbles,” Gareth said as he turned towards the exit, back in the direction of the ICU. “Hey, guys, we’re heading back. Thanks for coming. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Sure thing, Cowboy. Let us know if you need anything.”
After all the teasing and ribbing, it was quite a shock to see the solemn change in Rook as he made the offer to Gareth. In fact, Emily nearly tripped over Gareth’s feet as he spun back towards his friends quickly, pumping Rook’s hand in his before he dragged Pippa into his arms for a hug.
It was clear to Emily that Gareth had made a good life for himself in the city, made close friends, no matter how Rook had teased him about being antisocial. Emily found that she genuinely liked these people, liked the fact they were so close to Gareth. They would be there for him when she left, returned home. Not only that, but Emily had not once thought about her scars until now, neither Rook nor Pippa commenting or even paying any undue attention to them. Gareth must have told them all about the fire and her sensitivity to the ugly mess on her face.
They did a good job ignoring it
, she thought as she made her way back to sit by her father, the warmth of Gareth noticeable at her side.
Chapter Seven
It had taken a monumental effort on Gareth’s part to convince Emily to come home with him and get some rest at his apartment. Actually, the efforts of Gareth, a now conscious Mac and Nurse Ratched—who had turned out to be a friendly and caring nurse—plus the incredibly gracious offer from Rook and Pippa to keep Mac company. Finally, Emily had conceded to Gareth’s request and agreed to leave her father’s bedside.
He had still had to drag her away, leaving Mac and Rook deep in discussion about the changes in the modern game compared to those of yesteryear. Mac’s communication had been stilted by pain, but he’d been doing an admirable job of disguising it. Mac had seemed to enjoy this change in conversation from that of the continual worried concerns over the past two days of his overly attentive daughter. Emily had almost nagged the poor man back into a coma with all her fussing. Gareth smirked at the idea. Emily was a very good fusser.
Now, having achieved his goal of getting Emily away from the hospital for a few hours, Gareth had the tormented pleasure of imagining Emily in his shower. Naked in his shower. He could visualise the water sluicing down her nude body, and he had the rock-hard boner to attest to his vivid imagination.
Fuck, man, get it under wraps. The last thing Emily wants or needs, is you trying to get in her pants,
Gareth scolded his lust-filled mind.
Not that she’s wearing any at the moment,
his ever helpful mind added,
making him groan even more as that train of thought rampantly took hold.
He was trapped, unable to move, standing outside his own bathroom door. He could hear the sound of the water running, but could not for the life of him take a step away, although he was terrified that at any moment, Emily would open the door and see him standing there stupidly, sporting a boner hard enough to hammer nails into wood.
“Yeah, that would be awesome. She’d appreciate it, I’m sure,” he murmured, his feet still refusing to move. Then he heard it—soft sobs coming from behind the closed door. Emily was crying, and Gareth could not stop himself, was unable to ignore the sounds of the woman he loved in despair. He opened the door and, disregarding the fact he was fully clothed—cowboy boots and all—he stepped into the shower stall. The sight of her crumpled to the floor with her hands over her eyes as she wept was heartbreaking, and he gathered her into his arms.
“Oh, baby… Shhh… Don’t cry. Mac will be fine. He is going to be fine. The worst is over.”
Gareth held her to his chest, stroked the length of her wet hair, felt her chest, her breasts rise against him as her sobs racked her body. Emily’s tears had more power to bring him to his knees than any opposition player’s tackle. The fact that she was naked in his arms was but a distant observation. He hated seeing her in pain, in distress. Would do anything to stop her tears. He didn’t care that he was now completely soaked, his clothes heavy with water. Consoling his Emily was Gareth’s only concern.
Then he felt her lips on the skin of his neck, their warmth as she kissed him there, and her arms as she reached around behind his head, drawing him down so his mouth was tantalising close to hers. Like a lightning bolt hitting him, awakening his body, Emily’s naked form came back to the forefront of his mind. Like a heavy hit lined up and delivered perfectly from an opposing forward, his need for her slammed into him, robbing him of any previous gallant intentions. He needed Emily, needed to feel her skin. Needed to feel himself buried deep, balls-deep, inside her.
“Love me, Gareth. I need to feel something other than the guilt that’s eating me alive. I should have done more, should have reacted quicker, found Dad sooner… Distract me. Make it go away. Make me think of only you, even if it’s just for a while… ”
“Emily, you did all you could. You probably saved your father’s life, got him help, did all the right things. Stop it. Stop trying to take the blame for everything that happens, every time life deals a blow that’s unfair. Mac’s accident is just one of those things. Working the land comes with its dangers. You know that.”
Gareth was not a saint, and he was not going to give up the opportunity of showing Emily how much he still loved her. If she wanted him to make love to her, distract her, he was going to do that…and more, until she had no doubt of his love.
He took her mouth with his as he steadied her head in his hands, drawing her body hard against his own. He turned her face gently to gain a better angle, a better connection. Their faces mashed up against each other, he devoured her, his tongue demanding as he laved every part of her mouth hungrily, eagerly. The sounds of her sighs—muffled by his mouth, but still audible—sent him into a sexual frenzy. He needed more. Needed to feel her orgasm, needed to be the one that brought his Emily fulfilment. Only him. Always him.
“More, I need more. I need you naked, to run my hands over your chest, Gareth, need to have that experience again,” she begged when she dragged her lips from his.
He had fought her attempt to break from the kiss, but with her words he responded to her plea. Fighting to disrobe from the sodden clothing was difficult, endlessly time consuming, when what he wanted was to be touching her again. In frustration, he ripped his shirt open. Buttons flew and the sound of material ripping echoed around the bathroom, but Gareth didn’t care. He needed to be naked. As he fought to undo the button on his jeans his fingers felt like thumbs. The simple task of undoing the metal fastening—something he did a million times a day—was an impossible assignment when his mind was full of Emily, fixated on her naked body.
“Here, let me.”
And before he could blink, there was Emily, his Emily, on her knees in front of him, one of her hands gently grasping his balls as the other stroked his rock-hard cock through the soaked fabric of his jeans. He feared he would come from just the touch of her hand, even with the jeans shielding him from the feel of her delicate skin wrapped around his cock. He needed them off now, wished he held some magical power so that one sweep of his hand could make the jeans and his boots disappear. Remove the barrier that stood between him and ramming his cock home in the sweet haven of her pussy.
“Oh, Em, I don’t think I’ll last. I want you so much.”
Gareth groaned the words, his voice conveying both his agony and his complete need for her. If she felt the same as him—the overpowering longing that had robbed Gareth of the ability to relay from his brain the instructions to successfully unclasp the metal fastening—then she hid it well. It only took Emily a moment before she was pushing his jeans down past the swollen head of his cock, which—now relieved of the pressure of being strangled by the constraining denim—was standing fully erect, brushing against her cheek. She managed to get his jeans past his hips but stopped at his knees. Gareth’s boots, now full of water, were an impassable impediment.
But his Emily was not to be deterred from her apparent goal. She gave up on the task of removing his jeans, instead focusing her attentions and her precious hands on his hard length. Gareth audibly groaned at the first touch of her hand. Her grasp was firm as she stroked his shaft, just as she knew he liked. With an anticipation that all but killed him, he waited for that sensation, that first lick of her tongue around the rimmed head of his cock. He knew that was what he would feel, remembered it, hungered for it…then it was there. The mind-blowing, cock-exploding feel of that warm, wet tongue on him, so fucking familiar, so fucking good that Gareth’s sanity was teetering on the edge. It was all he could do not to grab her head and slam her mouth onto him, until his head reached the back of her throat.
Gareth felt the tightness of his balls as they drew up, so tight and so high they were almost forced inside his body. He was holding on by a hair’s breadth as Emily’s mouth rode him in perfect rhythm, swallowing him, worshipping him. The sight of her—his cock inside her mouth, in and out, rubbing against her lips, the stretch of her mouth around his girth—was pure heaven, but it was what Gareth saw unmistakeably in her eyes that finally did him in. Emily’s eyes conveyed her emotion, and it wasn’t just need, or an attempt to put sadness from her mind. In Emily’s eyes was love. Gareth could not misinterpret, could not imagine or perhaps just project what he wanted to see, because it was too clear. Too honest. There before him.
Emily loved him. And for Gareth, that vision, that emotion her eyes betrayed no matter what her words had told him, was the most wondrous sight he had ever seen. He could not, would not come in her mouth—not this time. This first climax would only happen once he had made her see that he loved her just as much in return, after he had Emily screaming his name, begging for her release over and over. Until he could convince her of his need for her to be with him. Forever. Until then, he would not find his own release. It would be his reward.
He pulled her up from her knees, gathered her in his arms, ignoring her protests. He forced her to meet his gaze, trapped her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly, trying to portray all his emotions. He didn’t allow her to breathe, making her share his oxygen, share his breath, as he wanted her to share her life with him.
When he finally dragged his lips from Emily’s kiss-swollen mouth, he was shaking, trembling under the force of something so strong, so elemental, that Gareth found it almost too hard to comprehend. He hadn’t thought it was possible to love her this much. She was his.
“Mine. You have always been mine, Emily. Don’t fight me on this—you won’t win.”
Gareth’s tone was arrogant, dominating, but he didn’t care. As he shut off the water still running from the shower, he twisted the taps with such force it was a wonder they did not crack under it. Gareth grabbed the towel within his reach and wrapped it around Emily’s shivering body, hoping that it was desire that had her quivering and not cold but needing to make sure, needing to do everything for her, to protect her and cherish her.
Emily stood still, her eyes wide, staring at him, clutching the towel around her. Gareth removed his boots, shucked his jeans the rest of the way from his body. His brain was clearer now his mind was set—he was able to take charge of the moment. He was confident that with that clarity he would be able to send Emily so high, make her desire him, crave him, want him so much, so wholly that she would not—
could
not—walk away from him again.
He swept her, towel and all, into his arms and strode towards his room. He placed her gently onto the centre of his bed. He peeled the towel from her grasp, tossed it over his shoulder as he looked at her. Emily, naked, spread out on his bed—the bed that he had spent many a sleepless night tossing and turning in over the burning need for her. It was now perfect with the addition of her sexy form. Her hair was still wet, soaking into his mattress, his pillow. He didn’t worry about any of that—all Gareth cared about was Emily. He knew that his face was not portraying gentleness—his expression was probably hard, showed off his intention, his determination to prove to Emily that they were meant to be together. But she showed no sign of fear in response to that lack of softness in his gaze.