He watched her face as they fucked. Emotion chased across every feature of her pixie countenance. Her brow furrowed as the heat built. Her breasts rose and fell more quickly. Nipples peaked and pouted, flushed with heat. He kept watch, pushing her with each stroke. Flame licked its way down his spine, pooling in his haunches until he thought he might burst.
With any other woman, more sex equaled more control. Not with Emory. She shredded his composure. Her body demanded his response. She forced him past every barrier until he was throbbing with the need to mark her with his essence.
Her channel bore down on his shaft. The crown of his cock bumped the place deep inside that made her quiver with ecstasy, and he felt her perched on the edge. He could see it now, that moment where she teetered on the edge of bliss. He did what he couldn’t have before that night. He thrust hard and shattered the moment, pushing her into release and soaking up her climax as he pulsated a stream of hot semen into her welcoming body.
“Alex!”
“Come with me, love.”
He murmured it over and over again as they came together.
* * *
Emory didn’t know how long she’d been sleeping when her phone buzzed. She’d have ignored it, but the damn thing wouldn’t stop.
Rolling away from Alex’s warm body, she grabbed it and squinted at the display before answering. “What do you want, Chris?”
“I’m downstairs, Em. Get dressed. Fox and I are coming up.”
Her brain stalled. What could possibly make her brother come charging into her shop without letting her get a word in? Her heart hammered, wondering if Chris had suddenly decided he didn’t like Alex.
The steps creaked as Chris and Fox stomped upstairs. She and Alex were both naked. In a desperate bid for modesty, Emory made a grab for the sheet and yanked it over their bodies just as her twin stepped into the room.
Chris threw his hand over his eyes. “Shit, Em! I told you to get some clothes on!”
“And here I was going to ask if she could pull the sheet just a little farther off Alex.” Fox didn’t even pretend he wasn’t enjoying the sight.
Truthfully, Emory was enjoying the sight too. Alex’s tanned skin stretched taut across his belly. Muscle rippled, tempting her to slide her fingers over his sleek body and find the treasure waiting just below the path of gold hair arrowing down from his navel.
Alex stirred, stretching like a cat. He blinked a few times, focusing on their visitors. “Why do I get the feeling I’m being ogled?”
“Because you are.” Chris elbowed his partner. “Get control of yourself, would you?”
Something in Chris’s tone made Fox sober up. “Baby, you know I don’t want anyone else but you. Not even him.”
Alex snorted. “That’s good, because I’m officially off the menu.”
His words made her heart soar, until she locked eyes with her brother. She knew with a twin’s uncanny instinct that something terribly bad had happened. “What is it?”
Chris pursed his lips. “I got a call an hour ago. Mama passed away last night.”
“How?” Something cold and clammy leached the warmth from Emory’s body.
“A nurse from St. Christopher’s said Mama gave them my name, asked them to let me know if she didn’t make it.” The tight lines bracketing his mouth said more than his words.
“She was sick?”
Chris nodded.
“How long?”
“Some kind of cancer. The nurse didn’t know much. He wouldn’t let her get treatment.”
The horror sank in slowly, that their father would deny their mother medical treatment, most likely based on his twisted religious principles. God never would have been so cruel. Her father was a completely different sort.
For seven long years, you shall hear a bell
All alone and lone
And at the end of seven years, you shall land in hell
All down by th greenwood side
She was frozen. Locked in an ugly place and uncertain how to crawl out. The last verse of her mother’s song ran on an infinite loop through her mind. Had her mother heard the bell? Had she known it was coming? Was it freedom? Or would her mama go to hell as Emory suspected the poor woman feared she would?
Her mother was dead. It had been years since she had let herself dwell on the tiny mouse of a woman who had tried in vain to protect the twins from their domineering father. Emory shared their mother’s slight build and dark complexion. Within memory, Emory had never seen her mother’s dark hair in anything but a severe bun or braided into one long plait for the night. What had Liza been like as a young girl? Had she ever dreamed of a different life?
There weren’t any tears. There should have been tears, but Emory felt barren inside. She’d hated every second of her upbringing. When she’d been young, she’d blamed her mother for allowing their father to torment them so. Now her recollections were tempered by an adult’s retrospection and intellect.