Stalking Emily Saving Emily

The Terms

Emily

By the third time or was it the fourth? My body had officially stopped being mine. It belonged to his hands, his mouth, the low growl of my name in his throat like it was a prayer and a curse at the same time.

We were tangled in silk sheets and I was draped across Leo’s chest, one leg hooked possessively over his hip, my hair a wild, sweaty mess I couldn’t summon the energy to fix. His fingers drew slow, absent circles on my bare shoulder, the kind of touch that felt dangerously intimate after everything we’d just done. His breathing had finally evened out, deep and steady beneath my cheek.

I should have passed out. I was wrecked and deliciously sore in places I hadn’t known could feel this good. But my brain wouldn’t quit.

So… Veronica.

The thought popped up like an uninvited guest, and before I could stop myself, my mouth curved into a wicked little smirk against his skin.

“So,” I murmured, propping myself up on one elbow so I could look down at him. “Your sister. Again. Exactly how long has she been trying to climb into your pants? Be honest, was it since puberty, or did she wait until she got good boobs?”

Leo groaned and pinched my lips shut between two fingers. “Don’t.”

I laughed against his grip, and I came out muffled. “What? She’s gorgeous, Leo. Like, unfairly. And I’ve heard the bond between siblings is sacred. You should give it a shot, keep it in the family.”

“Emily.” His voice carried that warning edge I was quickly becoming addicted to.

“I’m just saying,” I continued, batting my lashes with fake innocence, “it’d be a shame to waste all that doe-eyed devotion. She looks at you like you hung the moon and also invented chocolate. True love, right there.”

He moved so fast I squeaked like a mouse, as he rolled us over, pinning me beneath him in one fluid motion. His weight settled perfectly on my body, and his mouth found my throat like it had been starving for it.

“I’m not looking for love,” he muttered against my pulse, teeth grazing just enough to make me arch. “Not from her. Not from anyone.”

“Hmm.” I tilted my head to give him better access, even as I kept poking. “Still… those big, sad eyes of hers couldn’t convince you? Not even a little? Come on, one pity make-out. Just for science.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” He lifted his head, eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“A lot,” I admitted, grinning up at him. “It’s the only fun I’ve had all week that doesn’t involve crying in a hallway.”

The playfulness drained from his face in an instant. His expression turned serious as he searched my eyes like he was trying to memorise the exact shade of chaos in them.

“I want nothing to do with her, Emily. I never have. She’s… It’s complicated. Messy family s**t layered on top of her own damage. But it’s not what she thinks it is. It never will be. Not in a million years.”

I nodded slowly. I believed him. The weight in his voice left no room for doubt.

Still, the question I’d been chewing on since the restaurant slipped out softer than I meant it to. “Then why did you lie, Leo? About me being your girlfriend? You could’ve just told the truth. Said Veronica was harassing you, that Voss was lying. I would’ve backed you up. I would’ve stood right there and called her a liar to her face.”

“You would’ve lost your job,” he said simply.

“Probably.”

“And Voss would’ve kept his. And Veronica would’ve found another way to destroy you for embarrassing her in public.” His thumb stroked along my jaw, gentle but possessive. “This way? She can’t touch you. You’re mine now. In her world and mine, that label means something. It’s armour.”

Mine.

The word landed heavy in my chest, warm and terrifying at the same time.

“So what?” I forced my voice to stay light, teasing, because the alternative was feeling way too much. “I’m Leo Ashford’s latest acquisition? Property? Do I get a little plaque on the wall next to your vintage cars?”

His eyes held mine, dark and unblinking. For a second the air between us thickened.

Then he leaned down and pressed the softest kiss to my forehead so tender it almost hurt. Slowly, deliberately, his mouth moved to mine, claiming my lips again.

“Let me know if you want to stop,” he whispered against my lips.

His mouth trailed lower, pausing at my breasts like he’d forgotten his original destination. My n*****s were already tight and aching from everything earlier; the second his tongue circled one, I gasped, back bowing off the mattress. He lavished attention on the other with his hand, rolling and pinching it until I was writhing, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

I didn’t tell him to stop. I didn’t want this, whatever dangerous, temporary thing this was to break.

But the question still hovered in the back of my mind. He wanted my body. He’d made that crystal clear. Wanting someone’s body wasn’t the same as wanting them. I’d learned that lesson the hard way, more than once. I wasn’t about to forget it now.

He kissed his way down my stomach, pausing at my navel to nip gently, then kept going lower, lower, until his breath ghosted over the part of me that was already throbbing and slick for him again.

When his cool lips pressed there, I shuddered so hard my toes curled. My hands flew to his hair, tangling tight, holding him exactly where I needed him.

“Please.” The word broke out before I could cage it.

He answered with his tongue and I raised my hips shamelessly, chasing the wave that was already building too fast. Pleasure coiled tighter, until it snapped. My body shook violently as the orgasm crashed through me, and I collapsed back onto the sheets, boneless and gasping.

Leo lifted his head, mouth and chin glistening with me. He licked his lips slowly like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“I didn’t hear you say stop,” he murmured, voice rough with satisfaction.

I didn’t have the energy for a smartass comeback. I was still floating somewhere near the ceiling after my fifth orgasm of the night. My brain had officially filed for bankruptcy.

Eventually, I managed to drag in enough air to speak. “So how do we prove it? To Hartwell. He said he wanted real proof.”

Leo’s eyes tightened. The hand that had been lazily circling my n****e stilled completely. “He did.”

“And?”

Without another word, Leo rose up, grabbed my hips, and flipped me onto my stomach in one smooth motion. My cheek pressed to the cool pillow, back arched as he pulled me into position. When he entered me from behind with his length thick and hard, he leaned down, lips at my ear.

“Is this enough proof for you?” he growled, thrusting deep on the last word.

I moaned into the sheets, fingers twisting in them, because yes.

Fuck yes, it was more than enough.

Much later, when I could finally form coherent thoughts again, I lay curled against him, his arm heavy across my waist.

Okay, I decided silently, staring at the city lights through the window.

I’ll take everything Leo Ashford is willing to give.

His body, protection and money. I'd be stupid not to.

But his heart?

No. I’m not touching that.

And that’s fine.

Because I’m sure as hell not handing him mine either.

This is a transaction. A delicious, filthy, life-saving transaction.

And for once, I’m the one setting the terms.