Emins’ Mate(24)

Well, that was okay. She wanted a second to herself anyhow. She sprang to the bathroom, felt a dull pounding in her head. And a nasty taste in her mouth. That was what Dora had said she might feel like after the margaritas. That was alright with Glory. The drinks had tasted so good! And the night with her friends had been so fun.

And then with Emin. She’d finally shown him how she felt. And that felt so good, too. So Glory hummed as she brushed her teeth, combed out her hair. By the time she’d stepped out of the bathroom she was feeling good. Like a million bucks, is what Dora would say.

She practically skipped to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, something she’d grown to like very much since meeting Emin and his family.

But she froze, grinning, when she saw Emin in the doorway of the cabin.

“I bring you orange juice. And crackers, because I think you will be sick from drinking.” He set the packages on the table and stood, his arms crossed, his eyes so serious. “But you do not look sick.”

“How could I be sick?” she glowed. “You’re going to kiss me today!”

Emin’s eyes became even more serious. "No. I can take no more!” He raked a hand through his hair. “You are like baby deer."

"I'm not a deer! I'm a tiger.”

"No. listen. You are like tiny baby animal. You run around and knock over things you don't understand."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "But I-"

"No." Emin had had enough. Crossing the room to her, he took her chin in his hand. "You don't speak anymore. Unless it is to say my name. Or to say if I do something you don't like. Yes?"

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. "Stop. Pause. Slow down. Dora taught me that."

He didn't smile. "Good. Now the next part. My name."

"Emin,'" she whispered, not quite sure why it sent shivers down her spine to say it.

"Again."

"Emin."

He let go of her chin and to her intense disappointment stepped back from her.

"Take off shirt," he growled.

Glory's hands trembled as she followed his directions. She loved being naked, and it didn't bother her in the least. So why was her heart jumping?

"Good," he said and took another step back from her, squinting his eyes and tilting his head to one side. "And now I'm going to do a thing I have wanted to do for long time."

"What's that?" Glory asked, standing there, the cool morning air kissing every curve.

He turned his back to her. "I am going to paint you."

"What? I thought we were kissing-"

"Only my name," he commanded, his voice low and taut.

Glory nodded. "Yes, Emin."

He stilled, where his hands were scrabbling around with paints and brushes. But recovering, he pulled a fresh canvas from the pile. "Sit."

She immediately sank in one of the kitchen chairs, wincing when the cool wood touched her bottom. Emin immediately stripped the blanket of a bed and came over, standing her up and covering the chair for her. Then he planted his hands firmly on her shoulders and sat her back down.

The next half hour was the strangest of Glory's life. She had never been more aware of her body. There was no part of her that Emin's gaze did not touch. She sat, leaning forward with her elbows on the kitchen table. She should be chilly; there was frost on the windows and Emin hadn't built a fire in the hearth yet. But she felt so oddly warm. Heated down in the very center of her.

He watched her.

And she watched him right back. His handsome face was so serious, dark and concentrated as he worked. She tried as hard as she could to keep still, but she had so much buzzing energy racing through her. And she was getting very... wet. She could feel it between her thighs and it confused her. It felt like the heat that had been building inside her was spilling out of her. She pressed her thighs together against the ache that was there.

His eyes flickered. "You are, what is word? Antsy."

She said nothing, not wanting to break the delicious spell he had cast over them. Leaning back in the chair he surveyed her for another moment.

He ran a hand over his face, from brow to chin, before he stood up suddenly, almost knocking the chair right back.

He strode over to her and stood above her. He ran one hand over the crimson cloud of her hair. She looked up at him through her thick fringe of lashes. And then he crouched in front of her. Balancing on his toes.

His hands came to her chin and he drew her forward. Glory’s eyes fluttered closed. She wanted the feeling and nothing else to intrude. But he paused, held her face only an inch from his, until her eyes opened again. He was there, his eyes a lighter brown than she had realized. And looking into them, he leaned forward and took her lower lip between his teeth. Gave her a gentle, zipping tug that brought a sound out of Glory.