“And no,” he went on, “because there isn’t another woman who knows me the way you do. I know I’m not easy.”
“No, but you’re worth it.”
Rett
“You’re more worried than your wife,” Boyd Clark said as he and I stood back against the wall and watched Emma and Boyd’s associate Sophie Lynch discuss Ross Underwood.
I kept my voice low. “I understand what’s at stake better than she does.”
“You need to help her understand, Everett. She can’t walk into a deposition unprepared.”
“It isn’t a deposition. It’s a witness statement and preparation is what you and Ms. Lynch are being paid to do.” I looked him in the eye. “Paidvery wellto keep me out of legal trouble and now also my wife.”
Boyd nodded toward the women. “I thought Mrs. Ramses might work better with Sophie, and it appears I’m right.”
Emma and Boyd’s associate had been in the front sitting room, talking and going over time lines since nine this morning. It was almost noon. When Emma sent her regrets yesterday, Michelson had rescheduled her appearance at the courthouse for two this afternoon.
This appointment she’d keep.
Boyd was correct in Emma’s appearance of calm. Not only was she her absolutely stunning self, she and Ms. Lynch conversed as if they were old friends. I’d told Emma to be honest with our attorneys, and then to only convey to the police and prosecutor what the attorneys deemed appropriate. Most importantly, stay on topic.
“I’ll be sitting there with you, Emma,” Ms. Lynch said. “If any question seems off subject to me or inappropriate, I’ll step in.”
My wife nodded as she pointed to some notes they’d made and asked a question.
Leaning against the wall, I fought the urge to keep Emma here in the safety of our home. Hell, I wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap and keep her in protective custody. Yet as much as I sought that, in my gut, I knew my wife was more than capable.
She’d already shown me at every turn that fate had been right. Emma Ramses was meant for me. As my thoughts went back to last night after our dinner at Restaurant August, she turned my way.
Her blue orbs sparkled and her beautiful lips curled into a smile. “Rett, stop worrying.”
“I’m not worrying.”
“You might want to tell your expression that.” She waved me off as she and Ms. Lynch continued working.
Today, my wife was dressed in black slacks and a white blouse. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail that hung down her back, her earrings were simple diamond studs, and the heels she wore gave her a few more inches of height.
However, as I looked at her, my mind drifted back to last night’s homecoming.
Emma had told me in the car she planned to return to the second floor and by the vise grip I had on her hand as we climbed the concrete steps from the underground garage and then the front staircase, I was holding her to her word.
“I’m not letting you change your mind,” I said, standing outside the door to her suite.
Emma’s lips brushed mine. “My mind is made up.”
The fireplace was lit as we entered, orange flames flickering their warmth and light. Once the door was closed, my patience over the last four days expired. Such as a magnet, I was pulled to her. With my fingers wound in her long golden hair, our lips met.
Unlike the chaste kiss in the hallway, in a matter of seconds we’d both become two people in desperate need for the other. Unapologetically, I took. My kiss bruised her lips as my mouth and tongue ravished everything in their wake. My invasion wasn’t met with resistance or a meek acceptance. Hell no, Emma gave as much as I took. Moans filled the room as I backed her toward the wall.
As I removed my suit coat, the scene at Broussard’s came back to me, her hands in my grasp and held over her head. Once Emma’s shoulders met the wall, I spun her around. The long zipper on the back of her dress had been taunting me since I first saw her up on the third floor. A quick pull and I peeled away the black material, sliding it from her arms, letting it fall to the floor in a black puddle around her high heels. A snap and her bra followed.
With one hand, I gripped her neck. Under my touch, I felt the way she tensed. It should bother me. It didn’t. I liked having her on edge, tightly wound, and unsure of my next move. Skirting my touch over her soft skin, I released her and spoke. “Turn around, Emma.”
In the fire’s light, wearing only her shoes, with her hair freshly mussed, my wife was a fucking goddess. Maybe Leon had been right and sorceress was the correct description. In the back of my mind, I knew I’d pushed her too far the afternoon in the office. My mind reasoned that tonight I should go slow, but my growing desire didn’t listen.
A fire burnt within me when it came to Emma, one that exceeded the one ablaze in the fireplace. Beginning as a contained spark, the inferno grew, raging and destroying my resistance and patience. What had been contained was now a powerful, out-of-control forest fire.
Emma’s round breasts heaved with shallow breaths as I scanned every inch of what was mine. I stepped closer, my fingers again weaving through her hair as I tugged her head back. A slight whimper filled the room as her neck bent back and her ocean blue eyes stayed fixed on mine.