Page 32 of Codename: Dustoff
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
The night was pure magic. Delicious food aside, I loved learning more about Emmett and what made him tick. How ironic, also, that our two worlds orbited close enough to one another that over the years we could have passed by one another at a store, or in a movie theater, and who knows maybe the whole trajectory of our lives would have changed.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” Emmett pushed the handbrake on his truck, looking over at me as the inside lights of his truck began to brighten.
“You didn’t,” I replied. “But I’ll accept a late compliment just the same.”
I’d been brave and daring and wore bootcut jeans instead of my usual yoga pants. Despite being in a fairly simple sweater, I pulled out the fancy lingerie just in case when Emmett and I finished dinner I had a desire to see where the evening took us. For the first time in years, I felt sexy and desired, and I wanted to keep that feeling going for as long as I could.
“So, what do you want to do now?” He turned toward me from the driver seat, pushing the button that undid his seatbelt for him.
“I can think of a few things.”
My lack of experience had created a discomfort in my own body and sexuality long before I’d lost my leg. That only compounded my feelings. But spending the time with Emmett, knowing that he found me attractive and wanted to explore where this relationship went as much as I did, made me feel bold. Confident. Like I could ask that my needs be met and feel totally safe in doing so.
I practically floated from his truck to the guest bedroom. He had my bag in his hand, which he set on top of the dresser. The scene felt familiar, yet the air felt heavy with the promise of how different it would be. I pulled my sweater over my head, surprised at how badly I wanted him to appreciate the red satin bra I wore beneath.
“Ms. Sanchez, I approve on so many levels.”
He reached his hand out, and then thought better of it, tucking it into his pocket.
“I’m a little nervous,” a bubble of anxiety disguised as a giggle erupted from between my lips, “I don’t know where the line is. You know between feeling good and falling into a flashback.” I took his hand and placed it over my breast. “I’m hoping that if I tell my body what’s going to happen ahead of time, then maybe my brain will know where to direct all of that sensation.”
He caressed my breast, running his palm along the satin. His fingers tickled along the skin just beneath the fabric, and the first wave of pleasure skittered through my system. I braced for a shock of pain that never came.
“If all we do is this—”
“Shh,” I kissed away his statement, “let’s just look for the line, together.”
“Why don’t you lie down?” he suggested. “Trying to stay balanced while getting woozy on pleasure might be too much for your body to try to do at once.”
I lowered myself onto the bed, looking up at him in anticipation.
“Button?” he asked, pointing at my jeans.
I’d completely forgotten he didn’t have two hands to manipulate a button. Once I freed the button and zipper, Emmett guided them off my hips. His fingers traced the skin of my fully functioning thigh, the tickle forcing my eyes closed and turning my muscles to jelly. He followed his fingers with his lips. Tracing up my thigh, over my hip bone, across the muscles of my stomach. They twitched as his lips traveled across them, causing him to stop.
“Are you okay?”
I was lost in a haze of delicious sensation. It took me a moment to realize he’d asked me a question. So far, every touch from Emmett on my body had been a welcome experience. My mouth had gone dry, and it took me a moment to re-introduce any moisture back onto my lips.
“I’ve read in a few books that sometimes people use colors. You know so you don’t have to keep asking if everything is okay. Green means go, yellow means slow down, red means stop,” I suggested.
“How about anything that feels remotely not good, you call red. I would rather stop before you tip over into agony.”
“Deal.” I smiled at him, drawing patterns on my stomach, hoping to keep my body hanging in that hyperaware state of pleasure I’d just been dancing with.
“Would you like to keep your leg on?”
That’s right. My leg. I sat up and pressed the release button, immediately moaning at how good it felt to take my leg out and give it some freedom for the rest of the night.
Emmett’s hand joined mine, mimicking how I rubbed the muscles to help them relax.
“Roll onto your stomach,” Emmett suggested.
Though there was a bit of hesitation on my part, I did as he asked. As soon as I settled into a comfortable position, his hand rested against my haunch. He worked the muscles around my hip and upper thigh with such focus and gentle but firm touch that I was moaning and writhing like an eel.
“Puzzle pieces,” he said, running his hand up and down along the muscle that always tightened up on me. “Where you lack, I’m strong. And where I lack, you are strong.”