Point of Origin (8 page)

They needed me, damn it.

All. Except. One.

Emerson.

My fist slammed home one last time, trying like hell to get out all my rage, my frustration, but more just took its place. This bag had been rocking the last half hour. I was soaked in sweat, and still couldn’t get all of the anger out.

“Ready to talk about this yet?” Knox asked from the doorway, composed as usual.

“No.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hitting that bag isn’t going to change a damn thing, Bash. I say we get a drink and get laid.”

“One,” I said with a punch, “it’s barely noon.”

“Wicked opens at eleven,” he retorted, spinning keys in his hand.

“Two.” Another punch. “Sex is the last thing I need right now.”

“Bullshit,” Knox coughed into his hand. Prick.

I held the bag and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Fine. Let me restate—the last thing I need is an in-town hookup when I’m leaving as soon as this shit is set up.”

“Right, because that’s what you’d have…right? A random in-town hookup? Jesus, brother. I’ve been in town four fucking hours, and I’ve already had to put on a condom just to protect myself from the outright eye-fucking you were doing in that council room.”

“Do not go there.” I pointed at him. “Not today.”

“Where? To the obvious? How about we add a number three. You’re unwilling to get laid because you’re holding out hope that the one thing you fucked up in your life will forgive you.”

“Why would she care who I fucked?” I shot back, throwing my fist into the bag again.

“Why would you care if Greg Roberts is sleeping with her?”

My fist skimmed the side and I stumbled, catching myself on the bag. “He’s not.”

“You so sure?” He walked over to the bag and held it. “I saw that little handhold he pulled this morning. He lives here, you know. He could have her. Marry her. Give her a house full of little Legacy kids that will go to Harper’s preschool and have picnics and shit.”

Screw the bag, Knox’s face was next. “She’s not sleeping with him, now fucking drop it.”

“Don’t push this shit, Knox,” Ryker warned as he walked in.

Knox, as usual, didn’t listen.

“How the hell could you know that? You’ve been here a week. Hell, she could be sleeping with him right now.” he prodded.

“Because I know the look in her eyes when she wants someone, you asshole.”

“And she wants you?”

“Knox…” Ryker growled.

“Yes!” I shouted. “Nothing has changed between us. Six fucking years, and it’s still there. So if you’re asking if I want her—if she wants me—then my answer is yes, but I’m an adult now. I don’t get to fuck her and leave her like I did when I was stupid and young.”

“Right,” he nodded in sarcasm. “Because you’ve grown up.”

“You’re one of my best friends, Knox, but I will lay you out.” Menace dripped from every single word because I meant it. No one got to question what was between Emerson and me. Ever.

Ryker backed up a step. Knox moved one closer. “She looks good, man. Then again, she always has. I watched her grow up over these last few years because I’ve been here more than, oh…never.”

“Knox.” Now I was the one growling.

“How do you think she snuck out of your mom’s house after you left her in your bed? She called me. How about that first boyfriend about a year after you left? When she got stranded at that party in Gunnison while I was home for the Fourth of July the year after you left? She called me. She’d just broken up with that first post-Bash boyfriend, bawling not because she’d slept with him—”

All of my anger turned to ice, my muscles locking.

“—but because he wasn’t you,” he finished.

“I knew about him,” I said, my voice calm and even. Knox’s eyes flickered to Ryker who nodded.

“Good. Because you’re a god damned brother to me, but what you did to her? Fuck man, did you even look back once before sticking your dick into everything that moved out there in California? She deserved a hell of a lot better than you. She still does.”

I swung.

All six-feet-plus of Knox hit the ground, his body smacking into the mat.

“Fuck,” Ryker sighed, moving in closer in my peripheral, no doubt to break us up if I went after him in earnest.

Rage swirled hot, potent and just under my skin, looking for a place to break through.

“I didn’t
touch
another woman for a year, you asshole. How could I? She was all I saw, thought about, tasted. She was my fucking air, and then suddenly Ryker shows up at the crew telling me she’s screwing some college douchebag. She moved on, so I did too.”

“You left her! You broke her heart, and you don’t get to judge whomever she feels like fucking, because you had her, and you tossed her ass out like some badge-bunny skank.” Knox shouted up at me, propped up on his elbows.

“You think I don’t know that?” I shouted. “You don’t think I regret that choice every damned day? I would give just about anything to go back to that day, to not take that call that I’d made the team—to tell her where I was going, to give us a chance. It was the biggest mistake of my life, and it’s not exactly easy being in the same town as her, or anyone she’s considering…” I shook my head, unable to finish.

“You’re one loud son-of-a-bitch when you’re pissed,” Knox grinned up at me. “Is your office really as sound-proof as you claim?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” My eyes narrowed. Maybe I’d hit him too hard. “Yes. Soundproof. That way I can do business while I’m here.”

“Well, that’s good.”

I swung my gaze to Ryker, who shrugged. “He’s trying to tell you that Emerson is in your office upstairs.”

“She what?” I yelled back at Knox.

“She got here a few minutes ago.” He stood and clapped me on the shoulder. “I just wanted to remind you that you still love her, that way you didn’t walk in there and royally fuck it all up again.”

Words. I had…none.

“Yep, I thought so,” he laughed. “Shower. You smell. Then remember as you castrate yourself thinking that you can’t really have her, that you going back to your team in California isn’t honoring our fathers, it’s just the grown-up version of running away from home. The home where
our
team is under fire. Now, I think Ryker and I are going to take Harper some lunch.”

“A.k.a., leave you alone with Emerson,” Ryker added as they walked out.

Emerson was here. Right. Now. I used the adjoining shower and washed the sweat off me as quickly as possible, tossing on a pair of clean workout shorts and nothing else before I jogged up the staircase onto the main level. I saw her through the glass of my office on the corner, looking out over the valley beneath us, the home we’d both fought so hard to protect.

She was so damn beautiful, silhouetted against the mountains, her curves a stark contrast to the peaks above us. She was everything good and right about coming home…where I couldn’t stay.

God, she had to leave.

“You can’t be here,” I said, swinging open the glass door.

She turned to face me. “Well, hello to you, too.” Her mouth dropped with her eyes as she scanned down my naked torso. Shit. I needed more clothes.

“I’m serious, Emerson, you can’t be here. Not right now.”

“Why?”

Fuck, now her voice was breathless, and was that—yep—that was her tongue tracing her bottom lip. Blood raced from every possible part of my body to my dick, which was hardening by the second.

I moved to put my desk between us so she wouldn’t notice. “Because I’m not exactly in the mood for company right now.”

“You said you never lie to me. Don’t start now,” she recited from our car ride.

“You want truth?”

“Yes.” She towards me, stopping at the corner of my desk. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.” She shook her head, those bangs falling in into her eyes, and she brushed them away. “Well, I wanted a hell of a lot more from you, but I’ll settle for the truth.”

“What more do you want?”
Why the fuck would you torture yourself like that?

“I want you to stay, even though I know you won’t.”

God, it was so simple. So incredibly complicated. My heart slammed to life in my chest. Knox was right. I still loved her. I’d never stopped.

“What do you want, Bash?” she asked, looking up at me through impossibly thick lashes, her brown eyes open, honest, and sexy as hell.

“You to leave. Now.”

The girl I’d loved would have shrunk away, hurt. The woman I was falling even harder for simply raised an eyebrow. “No. Not until you tell me the truth.”

“I walked out on you. I chose to join that team in California because they took a shot on a rookie firefighter, and I did it knowing it would cost me you. That you would never come with me.”

“Yes.”

“So instead of asking, I left you sleeping, naked and warm, covered in my scent and my sheets in my bed.”

“Yes.”

Images flashed through my mind, how trusting those eyes had been when I’d slid deep inside her for the first time, owning her body the way she’d always owned my heart. The feel of her skin under my fingers, soft, then softer. The feeling of utter completion when I watched her orgasm under me, like she’d been my reward for torturing myself at twenty-one, waiting until she turned eighteen.

The emptiness of every other piece of ass I’d had after.

“I fucked other women.”

She tilted her head. “I fucked other men.”

A growl rumbled through my chest. “I’m well aware.”

“Is there some other secret you’re hiding from me, Bash? Or is that the best you have? Are you married?”

“No.”

“How do I know you’re being honest?” She asked playfully, peeking at where my bare hands gripped the desk to keep them off her. She really had no clue how close she was to being fucked right now, to having that little dress slid up her thighs, and her panties tugged down them. If she did, she’d be running.

One night with her hadn’t been enough. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough.

Those thoughts were definitely not helping my hard-on.

“How do I know you’re not married?” she repeated. “Maybe there’s another woman you’ve made promises to, and you just can’t bear to tell me.”

I reached out carefully, measuring each movement, and cupped the back of her neck, bringing her close enough to smell the spearmint on her breath. “Are you married?”

“No,” she shook her head slightly. “You know that.”

“That’s why I’m not married.”

“You’re waiting for me to go first?” Her forehead puckered.

“No. There’s only one woman I’d ever tie myself to for the rest of my life, and since she’s apparently not married to me, it would be impossible to be married.”

Her lips parted and she went damn near pliant. Fuck. She was all curves and brains and fire, and my control was slipping by the second. “Baby, I need you to leave.”

“Why?” she asked again.

She wanted truth? Fine, I’d give it to her. “Because I have enough pent up anger at this morning’s council meeting that I’d like nothing more than to generally fuck it out, and I can’t touch you. Not after you defended me like that in there. You put yourself on the line for me, for this—” I glanced at the office around us. “And I refuse to use you like that, no matter how badly I want you. You need to leave.”

God damn it, the woman walked around the corner of my desk, and—fuck me—I turned. She looked down at my very noticeable erection and back to my face, a blush warming those porcelain cheeks. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Emerson? I want to fuck you. Now. I want to slide my hands up your thighs and stroke you until you’re screaming my name. I want to watch you come apart and then do it again while I’m deep inside you—while I’m a part of you.”

Her eyes hazed over as her breath came in little short pants against my lips. “I understand.”

This woman was going to be the death of me. “If you stay, I’m taking you. No stopping. No mercy. No talk of me staying.”

“I have one question.”

“Ask it,” I snapped. This was ludicrous. I shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought of touching her, let alone vocalizing it.

“Wanting me—is it all about what happened today?”

What?
“No,” I leaned down until our foreheads nearly touched. “It’s not about want—never has been with us. Want, you can ignore, like a stupid craving for candy. You are a need, like oxygen. And while my control might be frayed because of this morning, it doesn’t affect how badly I need to be inside you. That’s something that hasn’t changed since the minute I crawled out of that bed six years ago. It’s a need I’ve never been able to sate, and having you here—when I can still taste that kiss—is killing me. So you can stay and let me breathe you in, or you can leave, and save us both from the way we know this will end.”

Her fingers skimmed up the skin of my arms, feather-light, until she cupped my cheeks. “Stay.”

One word from her lips and my fate was sealed.

Chapter Eight

Emerson

“Stay,” I whispered.

“Baby,” he pled, closing his eyes and clinging to that shred of control I wanted to yank away.

“I know you’re leaving. I’m not asking you to stay. And the truth is I’d rather have you for what little time I get than not have you at all.” I laid my heart bare and prayed he didn’t throw it back in my face. “Bash?”

He opened those eyes, hazel turning green, and my heart pounded, soared, demanded to be freed from the cage I’d stuck it in when he left.

“Touch me.”

A low rumble came from his chest, and he pounced, taking my mouth with open carnality and intent. His tongue thrust in perfect rhythm—mimicking the way he was no doubt going to fuck me—as he filled his hands with my ass, squeezing gently. We spun, the world blurring around me until my back found the wall and my legs wrapped around his waist so that I cradled that very hard erection he was sporting for me. He moved his hands to my face, tilting my head to kiss me deeper, harder.

I rocked against him to soothe the throbbing I couldn’t get to ease. Hell, it hadn’t eased since he’d gotten to town, like my body remembered exactly what he was capable of and was primed, ready for him whenever he said so.