Cross Creek: Crossing Hearts Part 22

And she did.

Standing there, wrapped together in the semi-privacy of the tiny alcove, Hunter let everything wash over him in waves. His heart slammed so hard that surely Emerson could feel it against her chest, but she didn't pull back. After time that Hunter measured by breath rather than minutes, the pressure in his rib cage released, coalescing into deeper ease. He shifted his weight, but only far enough to press his forehead against hers.

"Thank you," he managed, because as lame as it was, it was the only thing he could think of to say.

Funny how she seemed to understand. "You're welcome."

They sat back down, keeping to the unstrained silence between them until Eli and Owen came back to the waiting area a few minutes later. Despite her look of hesitation, Hunter didn't think twice about reaching for Emerson's hand so she could accompany him back to the curtain area where his father lay resting, which turned out to be a d.a.m.ned good thing as soon as he clapped eyes on his old man.

The too-bright glare of overhead fluorescents put a spotlight on the shadows beneath his father's eyes. He looked frail, smaller somehow without the Stetson he always wore, and Christ, Hunter couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the old man without it. His gut twisted and sank as he entered the trauma room, but he tacked a smile over his kisser, anyway. "Awful lot of trouble to go through just for Jell-O," he managed, and d.a.m.n, his father's rusty chuckle had never sounded so f.u.c.king good.

"Tryin' . . . to keep you on your toes," he said, exhaustion permeating the words and sending Hunter's gut on another go-round with his roiling emotions.

Calm. Cool. You can do this. "Yeah, well, it worked." He forced one boot over the other, the sharp smell of antiseptic pinching his senses as he moved closer to his father's hospital bed.

His father nodded, his face as pale as the pillow propping his head up. "A little too well, I s'pose."

Aw, h.e.l.l. The last thing the old man needed was to feel guilty. He was supposed to be taking things easy, for Pete's sake. "You know us Cross men. Nothing gets done halfway."

"Still." His father lowered his gaze to his hands. "Didn't mean to worry you."

"How about you heal fast and we call it square?"

"Sounds like a deal." His old man waited out a handful of breaths-a series of rises and falls that took far too much effort, in Hunter's opinion-before he shifted his stare in Emerson's direction. "Guess I owe you a debt of grat.i.tude, darlin'."

"Not at all," she said, and whoa, as sweet as her smile was, she clearly meant it.

For once, his father went the defiant route. "Doc says without your quick thinkin', this coulda been a whole lot worse."

"Nah. You're way too tough for that," Emerson said, her ballerina-looking shoes shushing over the linoleum as she moved closer to brush a kiss over the old man's cheek. "But if it makes you feel better, you can return the favor if I'm ever not right on my feet."

"Done."

They spent a few more minutes at his father's bedside, mostly making sure he was comfortable enough to get the rest he'd promised. Only after Hunter a.s.sured him twice that they'd take care of everything at Cross Creek did he close his eyes, and only then did Hunter allow himself to fully breathe.

"We'll be back in a bit to check on you," Hunter murmured, although he suspected that between the heat exhaustion and whatever the doc had put in the IV to treat it, his old man was already well on his way to la-la land. Emerson squeezed his father's hand, tucking the tissue-thin sheet around him one more time as she whispered a good-bye and headed to the door. But before Hunter could follow, his father's eyes fluttered open.

"She's a good one," he said, the sandpaper whisper low enough to keep the words from reaching Emerson's ears. "Don't let her go."

Okay, so the meds were almost certainly talking-after all, his father had about as many sentimental bones in his body as Hunter himself. Still, the rare shot of emotion whisking through his father's eyes caught him so by surprise that he answered with the truth.

"I know, and I promise. I won't."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

Emerson sank against the warm, worn leather of Hunter's pa.s.senger seat, watching the last glimmers of daylight slip into shadow over the fields at Cross Creek. Her body was about as ready to tap out as her brain, both of them having been put to the test over the last ten hours. But getting the all-clear on Mr. Cross's test results, then getting him comfortably situated at home and keeping him company while Hunter and his brothers had caught up on things at the farm had been worth every ounce of her exhaustion.

"I'm glad you managed to eat something," Hunter said from beside her, his expression nearly impossible to read in the heavy dusk. He'd been unusually quiet after he'd held on to her in the vestibule in the emergency department, but then again, today hadn't come within forty miles of normal.

Emerson smiled even though he probably couldn't see it, hoping the gesture would at least touch her voice. "I had to set the lead for your father," she said, because even with the day he'd had, no way would Mr. Cross let her get away with not practicing what she preached. "I know the baked chicken and veggies were probably kind of boring for you guys, but I wanted to go easy on his stomach."

Well, that and it was one of about three things she knew how to cook for more than a party of one, but despite the fact that he had to be completely drained, Hunter was quick on the protest.

"No, no. Dinner was great." He let go of a laugh, and while the sound wasn't harsh, it also didn't hold any humor. "G.o.d, Em, are you kidding? Between you being there for my old man this morning and how you helped me and my brothers afterward, there aren't enough words to thank you for what you did for my family today."

Emerson blinked through the near darkness in the cab of the pickup. "You don't need to thank me. Of course I helped."

"But not everybody would have. I mean"-he paused, pulling up in front of the cottage but not cutting the engine-"yes, anyone would've called nine-one-one if they'd seen my father collapse. But you didn't hesitate to go with him in the ambulance, to rearrange a job that's hugely important to you in order to stay with us at the hospital. You never thought twice about caring, and not just on the surface. I don't know how to repay you for that."

A sudden burst of emotion wrapped around Hunter's words, triggering something deep inside Emerson's chest, and she loosened her feelings without thinking twice.

"But you already have," she said, turning toward him. "The four of you included me-in your family dinners, in the business you love-from the get-go. I know that may have felt normal to you, but for me, that kind of family acceptance is rare, and . . ." Emerson bit her lip, her own emotions welling up. Still, she didn't try to hide them. "I need it. It means a lot to me that I can be who I am here."

Hunter leaned across the console, pressing his mouth over hers. The kiss wasn't forceful or rough, yet for a second, Emerson couldn't move. His mouth touched hers hungrily, with a quiet, aching need she could taste, and she opened to meet it. Reaching up, she framed his face with both hands. She held him close, sliding her tongue over his, sucking his bottom lip softly as if to say I'm here, I have you.

And he shocked the h.e.l.l out of her by giving in. The tautness in his muscles unwound, his shoulders falling away like they'd just released a breath they'd been clutching for far too long. Hunter's hands found her forearms, hot fingers curling around her skin like a brand, but she held steady. She kissed him slowly, yet with intensity, the connection of their mouths both hard enough to make her lips tingle and soft enough to convey more than physical need.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Emerson explored every part of him-the tip of his tongue, the divot right in the center of his ridiculously full lower lip, the edges of his mouth that were responsible for the smiles that lit her up like the brightest star in the midnight sky. She searched and swept, tested and took. Desire pushed her pulse faster, then faster again before Hunter pulled back, a rough groan in his throat.

"Will you come somewhere with me?"

"Right now?" she blurted, startled by the unexpected request.

"Yes." His touch was still firm over her arms, his breath ragged and warm as it mingled with hers. "I'm too keyed up to sleep, and I just . . . I need-"

"Yes." The word sprang past her lips before she even realized her brain had formed it. But the hunger in his tone was so raw, so needful in a way that she'd never quite seen on him, that refusing never crossed her mind. Hunter put the truck in gear, gravel popping softly beneath the tires as he guided them over the network of unpaved paths on Cross Creek's property. Two minutes later, they coasted to a stop in front of the old barn they used to sneak off to in high school, the wide, brick-red boards cloaked in the silvery shadows being thrown down by the moon hanging low on the horizon.

"You want to be at the barn?" Emerson asked, confusion whispering up her spine.

Hunter shook his head, an irony-laced smile shaping his mouth. "I want you, Em. Right now, all I need is you."

His answer was so simple, yet she felt it in even the tiniest places, pure and strong and whole. They got out of the truck without words, Hunter pausing only to grab a heavy blanket from beneath the backseat, and Emerson's brows traveled up in surprise.

"Do you always keep a blanket in your truck?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Okay." She lifted the end of the response like the question it was, and he brushed a kiss over her mouth with just enough intention to make her belly tighten and dip from the promise of it.

"I put the blanket in my truck the morning after you spent that first night with me."

Her uncut shock had to be on full display, because he continued his explanation. "I've never brought anyone to this hayloft other than you. The place just felt too"-Hunter lingered over her lips, tantalizingly close-"intimate. Too personal to share with anyone else. But I've thought about coming back here with you for weeks. G.o.d, forever. And right now, that's all I want. You and me and nothing else."

Desire buzzed through her, heady and dark. "I want you, too, Hunter. You and me and nothing else."

Hooking an arm around her waist, he led the way to the double-wide barn door. He pa.s.sed off the blanket and palmed the handle, pulling the wood-planked panel along its steel track just far enough to allow them both entry. Emerson followed him into the s.p.a.ce, giving her eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness. The barn was strictly storage for feed hay, and the fresh, damp-earth smell nearly made her laugh from the sweetness of the memories it triggered. The shapes around her grew clearer, becoming distinct objects in her field of vision, but Hunter still caught her hand, ushering her over to the ladder leading up to the loft.

"You okay to climb?" he asked, taking the blanket from her and tossing the neatly folded cotton to the floorboards above them. Although the movement held the ease of having been done no fewer than ten thousand times before with far heavier objects, a thread of tender concern hung in his words, and Emerson nodded to hammer home her certainty.

"I am." Yes, her body was tired, and yes again, her aches were far from nonexistent. But she recognized the look in Hunter's eyes, hungry and deep. He might always stay calm and cool and take care of everyone else, but right now, he needed comfort.

And she knew exactly how to give it to him.

Gripping the edges of the ladder in front of her, Emerson placed a foot on the bottom rung and started to climb. She held on tightly, the rough-hewn wood sc.r.a.ping slightly against her palms with each step, but her ballet flats offered enough purchase-and her legs supported her with enough strength-for her to make her way into the hayloft without stumbling.

Hunter swung his lean frame up to the floorboards beside her. "I should've known you'd brazen your way up here all on your own. Nice job, small-town girl," he said, and Emerson couldn't help her soft laugh at both the nickname and his belief in her.

"There are some things you never forget, hotshot."

"Believe me," he said, reaching out to pull her close. "I know."

She lost herself in his kiss for just a minute before he loosened his hands from her shoulders, bending down low to grab the blanket. The hayloft was large and open, spanning much of the same s.p.a.ce as the ground level of the barn below, and although Hunter had closed the main door behind them when they'd come in from outside, the second-story window remained wide on its hinges. Bales of hay were stacked waist high in front of the gla.s.sless opening, which not only kept anyone from taking an unexpected fall, but also blocked any direct view into the loft. Moonlight still streamed in from above, though, filling the warm night air with a view so honest and pretty, Emerson's breath caught.

"Oh." She moved over the st.u.r.dy, hay-strewn floorboards to take in the night sky. Stars winked and glittered like fresh-cut diamonds over a black-velvet canvas, framing the full moon on all sides. "The view up here is so beautiful."

"It is," Hunter agreed, but when she turned her head, Emerson discovered he wasn't looking at the sky.

He was looking at her, the need in his stare so fierce that she wanted nothing more than to fill it.

Pressing to her toes, she rushed up to meet his mouth. The intensity of the connection, the soft sc.r.a.pe of his stubble against her skin, the salty, masculine taste of his lips parting to let her in, all of it filled Emerson with desire. But the feeling burning through her veins wasn't a strictly physical arousal, the sort that demanded clothes to be torn off and sensitive body parts touched and licked and filled. There was another level to this want, something vital and fundamental, as if they needed each other like tides need the moon, and she circled her arms tighter around Hunter's shoulders in order to deliver.

"Come here."

He let her lead him a few steps away, to the pile of loose hay where he'd unfurled the blanket, the same corner of the hayloft where they'd always hidden together. Emerson knelt down over the heavy cotton, the material st.u.r.dy enough to protect their skin yet soft enough to be comfortable, and she reached for Hunter through the shadows.

Their bodies tangled together in a combination of mouths and limbs and need. Bracing one arm around her rib cage and the other in the crook of her knees, he eased her all the way back on the blanket, turning his body so they faced each other, side to side. Emerson returned her mouth to his, tracing the firm line of his lips with her tongue until they opened to grant her access. She slid a hand over the ridge of his shoulder, heat bursting to life between her legs at the way his muscles went taut beneath her touch. Her fingers spread wider, exploring every cord and every angle from his neck to the plane of his chest, and his breath moved faster against her mouth.

"Em." The whisper fell somewhere between a plea and a prayer. Still, Emerson didn't slow her movements, the tiny tremors that her touch sent through him pushing her to make contact with all of him. Her fingers slipped lower, beneath the hem of his T-shirt, and G.o.d, his warm, smooth skin made her dizzy with want.

"Hunter." She skimmed her hand over his body, the s.p.a.ce between them so narrow that her knuckles grazed her own chest. The contoured muscle of Hunter's abs gave way to the indent of his navel, then the crisp line of hair leading down to the b.u.t.ton on his jeans. With want in her belly that she couldn't control, Emerson's hand traveled the length of it, eager fingers lingering for just a breath on the heated denim before dipping lower to wrap around Hunter's already-hard c.o.c.k.

A low sound tore from his throat, too rough for a moan yet not quite a growl, and her pulse quickened, wicked satisfaction coursing through her at the sound.

"Let me make you feel good." Emerson stroked him over his jeans, her movements slow and full of promise. "You said you want this, just me and you. Let me take care of you, Hunter."

He thrust into the circle of her fingers once, then again before reaching down to capture her wrist. "But that's not what I want."

Surprise had her chin jerking up, adrenaline touching her heartbeat just enough to make it quicken. "Don't you want to be with me? You said-"

"Make no mistake," Hunter said, the pad of his forefinger finding her lips and pressing hard over their center. "I want you, naked and wet and screaming my name."

Oh G.o.d. The bold suggestion made Emerson's nipples pearl beneath the thin cotton of her blouse. "Then why won't you let me return the favor?"

"Because." He dragged his callused finger over her chin, the friction sending a hard, dark thrill all the way to her c.l.i.t. "Don't you see? It's taking care of you that makes me hot. The way you moan when I touch you." Hunter paused to let his touch play just briefly in the sensitive spot behind her ear, his mouth hooking in a savage half smile as she released a honeyed sigh. "The little cries that tell me how hard you want to come. How beautiful your face is when you get there. That's what I want, Emerson. That's what turns me on. I want you to let me take care of you."

His words were pure intensity, and in that moment, Emerson was lost. Her body surrendered, melting into the blanket and molding to fit his touch. With one swift pull, he had her shirt over her head, the material fluttering away to reveal a bra that he removed just as quickly. The juncture between her thighs grew damp as Hunter continued to undress her, then himself, until the only barriers between them were her thin cotton panties and the boxer briefs clearly outlining his rock-hard erection.

"This is what I want," he whispered, so close that his breath warmed her bare skin. He lay on his side, his hand coasting over her shoulder, moving lower to shape the slope of her breast.

Emerson arched against the solid weight of his palm. Her nipples stiffened, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s so heavy with desire that she had to bite back the moan that wanted to drift up from her chest. Then she thought of Hunter's words, and the sound pushed past her lips, uninhibited.

His hand tightened on her breast. "You want me to touch you here?" His thumb slid dangerously close to her nipple, but she arched higher to make the connection.

"Yes. If you want me, I'm yours. All you have to do is take me."

The words seemed to break a thread stretched thin inside of him. Cupping her breast with one hand, Hunter dropped his mouth to the top of her chest. His stubble created just enough friction to tempt her to scream, the need between her legs blurring the edges between greedy pleasure and sweet pain. He darted his tongue past the edge of his mouth, sliding a hot, wet path over the curve of her breast, not stopping until he reached her nipple.

"Oh. G.o.d." Emerson bowed off the blanket with a desperate cry. Her eyes, which had fluttered closed, flew wide, and the sight of Hunter's glittering stare and reverent want crashed into her like a palpable force. She watched as he laved her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with attention, her s.e.x growing wet as he balanced the soft ministrations of his mouth with the rougher actions of his hands. Emerson murmured her appreciation, heat blazing all the way through her with every move, and he was an expert listener, intuitive and eager to please. But the more Hunter touched her, the more she ached, her hips lifting from the warmth of the blanket in search of more.

"Please," she said, not knowing how to finish her sentence. Please sink inside me. Please make me come. Please hold me and don't let go.

The one word was enough, though. Hunter straightened so they were eye to eye, reaching down low to slip her panties from her hips. His boxer briefs followed seconds later, and seconds more had him sheathed in the condom he'd taken from his wallet. Bracketing Emerson's body with his hands, he parted the cradle of her hips with his lean frame, slipping his fingers along the seam of her body.

"Hunter." She widened her knees. His gaze was fixed on the spot where he stroked her, the abundant moonlight making it all too easy for him to see even her most intimate places. But she could see him in return, and the look on his face, so lost and yet found at the same time, made her want him all the more.

Hunter leaned in to kiss her, the press of his tongue in her mouth keeping time with his hand between her legs. Hot, desperate need coiled in the bottom of her belly, turning tighter with every sweep of his fingers over her s.e.x. For a second, he broke the contact, and a whimper threatened from somewhere deep in Emerson's chest. But then he gripped his c.o.c.k, angling his hips to slide the blunt head over her folds, and the whimper became a l.u.s.t-drenched sigh.

"That . . . please . . . don't . . ." The broken gasps were all she could manage past the pure desire building inside of her.

Somehow, he understood. "I won't." Hunter held steady, stroking his c.o.c.k back and forth just above her entrance. Her c.l.i.t throbbed with every pa.s.s, her s.e.x clenching in absolute want and, just as her climax began to unravel, he thrust between her legs to fill her to the hilt.

"Ah." Emerson knotted her arms around his hips to keep him buried deep. The sudden pressure of him inside her magnified her release, drawing out her o.r.g.a.s.m in wave after wave. Hunter gave her the lead, anchoring his hands beneath her for support as she thrust against his c.o.c.k, over and over. Only when she'd ridden out every last gasp of pleasure did he start to move, and dear, sweet G.o.d, he was a sight to see.

Handsome face, drawn tight in concentration. Eyes glittering with need, locked on the spot where they joined. Sweat-sheened muscles, flexing and releasing as he pumped his hips into hers.

Emerson rocked to meet him, her heart speeding against her breastbone. Hunter's stare drifted up to meet hers, and she didn't dare look away, simply held on to his gaze while he filled her, again and again.

"Perfect. G.o.d, you're so perfect," he grated, his voice so rough that the words vibrated over her skin. The rhythm between them changed, growing faster and more fierce. Curling his fingers into her hips, he dragged her close, kneeling upright between her thighs. Emerson's knees b.u.t.terflied outward, the soles of her feet digging into the blanket and seeking the floorboards beneath, and the heady scents of hay and s.e.x and something masculine belonging to Hunter alone filled her lungs. He thrust into her in powerful strokes, his movements becoming sharper, more focused. His muscles quickened, and as pa.s.sionate as her own o.r.g.a.s.m had been, Emerson couldn't deny wanting Hunter's even more.

"Show me," she said, spreading her legs as wide as she could. "Please, Hunter. Come for me."

His teeth sank into his bottom lip, holding fast. With a push of his hips that left no s.p.a.ce between them, he arched one more time with a shout. His body pressed over hers, so closely that Emerson could feel the shake and tremble of his release, and she wrapped her arms around him to gather him close.

Time pa.s.sed and they separated slowly, a softer touch here, a shift of weight there. But as they dressed and silently made their way out of the hayloft, Emerson didn't need any words to know she was in love with him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.