“Why are you so confident talking about death?” he demanded.
She hesitated, but then shrugged. “I died before,” she said simply.
She gave a small smile when she saw his blank expression segue into one of incredulity.
“What?”
She didn’t know why she’d told him. Given people’s reactions to such a declaration, she’d learned early on to avoid the topic at all costs. She sighed.
“I was born with a condition called alpha thalassemia. My body had a hard time making hemoglobin, so I was always mildly anemic as a kid. It wasn’t bad enough to cause any severe symptoms except occasional fatigue, but when I was nine, something happened. My iron count plunged and my organs weren’t getting enough oxygen. I had a heart attack.” She noticed his stiff expression. “Don’t look so worried. I hardly remember any of it. Long story short, when I recovered, I had a profound certainty that death was nothing to fear. Also . . .” She repressed a smile because she was sure he wouldn’t believe her. “I was cured.”
“You were cured,” he repeated in flat disbelief, stepping closer.
She laughed, even though she was set off balance by his nearness. The streetlamps in the parking lot reflected in his eyes, making them gleam in his shadowed face as he studied her intently. She just nodded. “I’m very healthy. My cells now synthesize perfectly normal hemoglobin. The doctors ramble on about how maybe the crisis I went through somehow reset my cells, but technically speaking—”
“You’re a medical miracle.”
She shrugged, hearing the thread of disbelief and amusement in his tone. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Very few people do, except for the staff at the hospital, my mother, my sister and the physician who researched the case.”
“And you.”
“No. I don’t believe. I know.”
He shook his head slightly, looking puzzled and a little amazed. “I’d almost believe it of you. You’re very . . . odd.”
“I’ve heard that before,” she muttered.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, and even though he hadn’t been sharp, exactly, her heartbeat began to thrum in her ears.
“You didn’t mean that I’m a freak?” she clarified, trying to keep things light.
“No. I meant that you’re rare. Different. Even a little otherworldly at times,” he said quietly. He reached up and touched the charm where it rested at the base of her throat. Her pulse leapt just inches from his pressing fingers. So much for keeping things light. She stared up at him, her glib comment melting on her tongue.
“I know I was harsh last week in the garage,” he said.
She swallowed thickly. What had occurred in the backseat of that car had become a hovering three-ton elephant for her, and yet he mentioned it so casually. She stared up at his face, spellbound. His fingertips moved, stroking her throat lightly, and then her jaw, holding her stare the whole time. Her flesh lit up beneath his touch, sending a cascade of sensation through her body, making the hair on her nape stand on end. She couldn’t unglue her gaze from the outline of his mouth. It’d gotten closer somehow as she looked up at him, although she’d never seen him lean down. His fingers caressed her temple. When they sunk into her hair, it was with a greedier, more forceful gesture. She couldn’t prevent shuddering at the sensation of his fingertips skimming her scalp.
“I wasn’t preoccupied while I was in France because I was thinking about Cristina,” he said, his mouth slanting into a frown as he stared down at her. “I was distracted from my business because I kept thinking about you.”
“Oh,” she said thickly.
“I’m not telling you that I was wrong the other night. Everything I said was true. I take what I want. I amselfish.”
“Then why did you walk away that night?” Emma challenged quietly.
He fisted her hair. He looked quite fierce. “I’m not walking away now, so don’t imagine that I’m something I’m not. And never be so stupid as to think I’m noble. Do you understand me?”
“I . . . I think so. You want to have an affair with me? Or a one night stand, is that what you want?”
His gaze traveled over her face. She found herself wondering what he saw there.
“As much as I want you, it’s going to take more than just one night,” he stated grimly. “You’ve done something to me. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t sleep. I’m having trouble eating,” he said, his gaze narrowing as her lips parted in wonder.
Michael Montand wanted her so much that he couldn’t rest. It struck her as strange. Surreal.
“I’m aware that I’m not what you deserve,” he continued. “But I don’t do long term relationships, Emma. I’m sorry for that, in your case, more than I ever have been in my life. But I don’t want to lie to you. Plus, I have to travel a lot—lately nearly every week, with a big racing event I’ve sponsored happening very soon. Do you want me enough to take the risk, knowing all those things?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
He studied her closely. “I’m not used to doing this. I know that you’re young and vulnerable though, so I’m trying.”
“I’m not vulnerable. And I’m not that young.”
“I disagree. But it doesn’t matter anymore. If this keeps up . . .” he looked bewildered, even a little wild. “I don’t know what’ll happen. As long as I know you exist somewhere out there somewhere, I’ll want you. The only possible thing that would stop me is if you told me no. Are you sure you want to agree to this?”
She nodded.
“Why?” he demanded, stepping closer to her. “Why are you sure?”
“Because you’re beautiful,” she said, trapped in a spell of honesty, ensnared by his eyes. “And because I can’t stop thinking about you either. And . . .”
“What?” he said, cradling her head in the palm of his hand, the gesture striking her as both tender and possessive. His head lowered toward hers. She felt the pop of electricity in the air, felt it zipping through her blood hundreds of thousands of times faster than they’d flown down the road just now.
“Because it’s something I’ve never had before. The sparks,” she whispered.
He swooped down and captured her mouth, the force and heat of him thrilling her. His other hand rose to her jaw, holding her in place. Her entire focus narrowed to the feeling of him. He parted her lips with his tongue, and her world became his taste. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a conquering one, an utter claiming without caution or apology. Yet the way he held her head and dipped his tongue between her lips made her feel precious somehow, like she was a treat he wanted to savor before he inevitably devoured her. He held her firmly, his clear, fixed intent to take his fill arousing her deeply. Her flesh softened in a way she’d never experienced, went warm and liquid and ready for him in seconds.
He lifted his head a moment later, his nostrils flaring slightly as he stared down at her.
“As long as you understand,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I see no reason to prolong this. I won’t wait a minute longer.
“Why are you so confident talking about death?” he demanded.
She hesitated, but then shrugged. “I died before,” she said simply.
She gave a small smile when she saw his blank expression segue into one of incredulity.
“What?”
She didn’t know why she’d told him. Given people’s reactions to such a declaration, she’d learned early on to avoid the topic at all costs. She sighed.
“I was born with a condition called alpha thalassemia. My body had a hard time making hemoglobin, so I was always mildly anemic as a kid. It wasn’t bad enough to cause any severe symptoms except occasional fatigue, but when I was nine, something happened. My iron count plunged and my organs weren’t getting enough oxygen. I had a heart attack.”She noticed his stiff expression. “Don’t look so worried. I hardly remember any of it. Long story short, when I recovered, I had a profound certainty that death was nothing to fear. Also . . .” She repressed a smile because she was sure he wouldn’t believe her. “I was cured.”
“You were cured,” he repeated in flat disbelief, stepping closer.
She laughed, even though she was set off balance by his nearness. The streetlamps in the parking lot reflected in his eyes, making them gleam in his shadowed face as he studied her intently. She just nodded. “I’m very healthy. My cells now synthesize perfectly normal hemoglobin. The doctors ramble on about how maybe the crisis I went through somehow reset my cells, but technically speaking—”
“You’re a medical miracle.”
She shrugged, hearing the thread of disbelief and amusement in his tone. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Very few people do, except for the staff at the hospital, my mother, my sister, and the physician who researched the case.”
“And you.”
“No. I don’t believe. I know.”
He shook his head slightly, looking puzzled and a little amazed. “I’d almost believe it of you. You’re very . . . odd.”
“I’ve heard that before,” she muttered.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, and even though he hadn’t been sharp, exactly, her heartbeat began to thrum in her ears.
“You didn’t mean that I’m a freak?” she clarified, trying to keep things light.
“No. I meant that you’re rare. Different. Even a little otherworldly at times,” he said quietly. He reached up and touched the charm where it rested at the base of her throat. Her pulse leapt just inches from his pressing fingers. So much for keeping things light. She stared up at him, her glib comment melting on her tongue.
“I know I was harsh last week in the garage,” he said.
She swallowed thickly. What had occurred in the backseat of that car had become a hovering three-ton elephant for her, and yet he mentioned it so casually. She stared up at his face, spellbound. His fingertips moved, stroking her throat lightly, and then her jaw, holding her stare the whole time. Her flesh lit up beneath his touch, sending a cascade of sensation through her body, making the hair on her nape stand on end. She couldn’t unglue her gaze from the outline of his mouth. It’d gotten closer somehow as she looked up at him, although she’d never seen him lean down. His fingers caressed her temple. When they sunk into her hair, it was with a greedier, more forceful gesture. She couldn’t prevent shuddering at the sensation of his fingertips skimming her scalp.
“I wasn’t preoccupied while I was in France because I was thinking about Cristina,” he said, his mouth slanting into a frown as he stared down at her. “I was distracted from my business because I kept thinking about you.”
“Oh,” she said thickly.
“I’m not telling you that I was wrong the other night. Everything I said was true. I take what I want. I am selfish.”
“Then why did you walk away that night?” Emma challenged quietly.
He fisted her hair. He looked quite fierce. “I’m not walking away now, so don’t imagine that I’m something I’m not. And never be so stupid as to think I’m noble. Do you understand me?”
“I . . . I think so. You want to have an affair with me? Or a one-night stand, is that what you want?”
His gaze traveled over her face. She found herself wondering what he saw there.
“As much as I want you, it’s going to take more than just one night,” he stated grimly. “You’ve done something to me. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t sleep. I’m having trouble eating,”he said, his gaze narrowing as her lips parted in wonder.
Michael Montand wanted her so much that he couldn’t rest. It struck her as strange. Surreal.
“I’m aware that I’m not what you deserve,” he continued. “But I don’t do long-term relationships, Emma. I’m sorry for that, in your case, more than I ever have been in my life. But I don’t want to lie to you. Plus, I have to travel a lot—lately nearly every week, with a big racing event I’ve sponsored happening very soon. Do you want me enough to take the risk, knowing all those things?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
He studied her closely. “I’m not used to doing this. I know that you’re young and vulnerable, though, so I’m trying.”
“I’m not vulnerable. And I’m not that young.”
“I disagree. But it doesn’t matter anymore. If this keeps up . . .” he looked bewildered, even a little wild. “I don’t know what’ll happen. As long as I know you exist out there somewhere, I’ll want you. The only possible thing that would stop me is if you told me no. Are you sure you want to agree to this?”
She nodded.
“Why?” he demanded, stepping closer to her. “Why are you sure?”
“Because you’re beautiful,” she said, trapped in a spell of honesty, ensnared by his eyes. “And because I can’t stop thinking about you, either. And . . .”
“What?” he said, cradling her head in the palm of his hand, the gesture striking her as both tender and possessive. His head lowered toward hers.
“Because it’s something I’ve never had before. The sparks,”she whispered.
He swooped down and captured her mouth, the force and heat of him thrilling her. His other hand rose to her jaw, holding her in place. Her entire focus narrowed to the feeling of him. He parted her lips with his tongue, and her world became his taste. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a conquering one, a claiming without caution or apology. Yet the way he held her head and dipped his tongue between her lips made her feel precious somehow, like she was a treat he wanted to savor before he devoured her. He held her firmly, his clear, fixed intent to take his fill arousing her deeply. Her flesh softened in a way she’d never experienced, went warm and liquid and ready for him in seconds.
He lifted his head a moment later.
“As long as you understand,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I see no reason to prolong this. I won’t wait a minute longer.”
Posted by arrangement with InterMix, a member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC, A Penguin Random House Company. Copyright © Beth Kery, 2014.
Reading in Pajamas 