Page 38 of Hooked on Emerson (Hooked #2)

"I love you," he said simply, the words clear and unadorned. No buffers, no hesitation. Just truth, offered freely.

"I love you too," she whispered back, the words feeling right in her mouth, honest in a way few things had been since her mother's death.

His smile then was like sunrise, transforming his face, reaching his eyes in a way that made her heart skip. His thumb brushed her cheekbone, a gentle caress that sent warmth spreading through her. "Stay," he said softly. "Not just in Millfield. But here. Tonight. With me."

The invitation hung between them, simple but significant. Ava nodded, her hand coming up to cover his where it rested against her face. "Yes," she said. "I'd like that."

His kiss this time was deeper, more sure.

His hands moved to her waist, drawing her closer until she was nearly in his lap, the heat of his body warming her through their clothes.

She found herself melting into him, her arms winding around his neck, fingers threading through his hair.

It was softer than she expected, thick between her fingers as she held him to her.

They moved together with growing urgency, hands exploring, rediscovering what they'd found in the storm-dark shop weeks ago but with a new, deeper understanding.

Emerson's fingers traced the curve of her spine through her sweater, coming to rest at the small of her back.

Ava's hands mapped the broad expanse of his shoulders, the strong column of his neck, the slight stubble along his jaw that rasped pleasantly against her palm.

"Bedroom?" he murmured against her mouth, the word half-question, half-invitation.

She nodded, not trusting her voice. He stood, helping her to her feet, his hands steady at her waist. The bedroom was just down a short hallway, visible through an open door.

Ava caught a glimpse of simple furnishings—a large bed with a plain navy comforter, a small nightstand with a lamp and a book turned face-down, a window that looked out toward the lavender patch behind the house.

They moved toward it together, Emerson's hand warm in hers, guiding but not hurrying. At the threshold, he paused, looking down at her with a question in his eyes. Checking, even now, that this was what she wanted. That she was certain.

Ava answered by stepping into the room, drawing him with her.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the window, casting golden light across the bed, warming the simple space.

His sheets were the same navy as the comforter, neatly made but not rigidly so.

The scent here was more concentrated—cedar from the dresser, lavender from the garden outside, and something else that was just Emerson, warm and slightly spicy.

Like freshly made, spiced apple cider, she realized.

She turned to face him, her hands finding the buttons of his flannel shirt, fingers working them free one by one. The fabric parted beneath her touch, revealing the white t-shirt he wore beneath, the outline of his chest visible through the thin cotton.

Emerson's hands found the hem of her sweater dress, a question in his eyes. She nodded, lifting her arms slightly to help as he drew it up and over her head, the fabric whispering against her skin. The air was cool against her exposed arms, raising goosebumps that his warm palms soon smoothed away.

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes traveling over her face, her shoulders, the simple cotton bra she wore.

There was reverence in his gaze, a quiet appreciation that made her feel both seen and cherished.

No one had ever looked at her quite that way before—as if she were both stronger and more delicate than she knew, as if he saw all of her and found her beautiful anyway.

"You're beautiful," he said softly, his voice rough.

She smiled, her hands coming up to push his flannel shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor beside her dress. "So are you," she replied, meaning it completely.

His t-shirt followed, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, the light dusting of hair that narrowed as it descended toward his waist. Ava's fingers traced the path, feeling the warmth of his skin, the solid strength beneath.

The scar along his ribs that she'd noticed during the storm was visible now in the golden light, a pale line against his tan.

She bent to press her lips to it, a gentle acknowledgment of past pain, of healing.

Emerson's breath caught at the contact, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair.

When she straightened, his eyes were dark, focused on her face.

His hands trembled slightly as they moved to her waist, drawing her against him, and the feeling of skin against skin sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the cool air.

They moved to the bed together, shedding the last of their clothes along the way.

The comforter was soft beneath her back as Emerson lowered her onto it, his body following, covering hers without crushing, giving her a sense of security, protection.

His weight was grounding, real, and anchoring her to this moment.

This choice. This man who looked at her as if she were something precious and irreplaceable.

His looked at her with a final question, checking that she was still certain, still with him. Ava answered by drawing him down to her, her hands on his shoulders, her lips finding his in a kiss that contained all the words she couldn't yet say.

Their bodies remembered each other from that night in the shop, but this was different. No storm driving them together, no chaos to escape. Just a quiet afternoon, golden light, and the certainty of choosing each other with open eyes and full hearts.

Emerson's hands were gentle as they moved over her skin, learning her, worshipping her with each touch.

Ava's fingers traced the muscles of his back, feeling them shift beneath her hands as he moved.

His lips found her neck, her collarbone, the sensitive spot just below her ear that made her gasp.

She arched into him, seeking more contact, more closeness, more of him.

The sheets rustled beneath them, cool and crisp against her heated skin.

Through the window, she could see a slice of sky, deepening to indigo as the sun began to set.

A breeze stirred the curtains, carrying the scent of lavender from the garden, mingling it with the earthy, intimate scent of their bodies coming together.

When they finally joined, it was with a sense of rightness, of finding home at long last. Emerson's eyes held hers, dark and intense, as if he wanted to memorize every expression that crossed her face.

His movements were careful at first, but as Ava responded, her body rising to meet his, he found a rhythm that spoke of need and tenderness both.

"Ava," he whispered, her name like a prayer on his lips. His voice contained wonder and certainty and something that sounded like gratitude. His forehead pressed against hers, their breath mingling, bodies moving together in perfect synchrony.

The sunlight painted their skin in gold and shadows, turning the simple act of love into something almost sacred.

Ava's hands traced the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his shoulder, the small of his back where tension gathered as he moved above her.

His breath was warm against her neck, her name a whisper on his lips as if it were a promise or a benediction.

They moved together with growing urgency, finding a language beyond words, beyond thought.

A way of communicating that needed no translation.

Ava felt herself building toward something inevitable, her body tightening around his, drawing him deeper.

When release came, it washed through her in waves, intense and overwhelming.

She clung to Emerson, his name on her lips, her body arching against his.

He followed moments later, his face buried in the curve of her neck, his arms tightening around her as if she might disappear if he didn't hold on.

For a long moment, they remained tangled together, breathing hard, hearts racing in tandem.

The sun casting longer shadows across the bed, turning the room golden-amber.

Eventually, Emerson shifted, his weight lifting from her but his arms still holding her close as he moved to lie beside her.

The air was cool on her damp skin, making her shiver slightly.

He reached for the comforter, drawing it over them both, the fabric whispering as it settled around their bodies.

Ava's head found its place on his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear a counterpoint to her own slowing pulse.

His fingers traced idle patterns on her bare shoulder, raising pleasant shivers despite the warmth of their shared body heat.

Neither spoke immediately, the silence comfortable, necessary after the intensity of what they'd shared.

Outside, the light was fading, a bird called somewhere in the distance, the sound clear and sweet in the quiet.

Through the bedroom door, Ava could just see the bouquet of flowers on the dining table, a splash of color against the wooden surface.

The scent of lavender drifted through the house, mingling with the earthy scent of their lovemaking, creating something new and intimate. Something completely them.

"I keep thinking about that first day too," Emerson said finally, his voice a gentle rumble beneath her ear. "At Nattie's photo session. How nervous you looked. How beautiful."

Ava smiled against his chest. "I was terrified. Not just of the photos, but of everything. The shop. The future. Being alone."

His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. "You're not alone anymore," he said simply.

"I know." She tilted her head to look at him, taking in the softness in his eyes, the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way his hair curled slightly with sweat at his temples.

A vulnerability she'd rarely seen in him, a trust that matched her own.

"That's what makes this feel like freedom instead of fear. "

"Freedom?" he asked, curious.

"This is the first time home has felt free," she explained, softly. "Like I'm choosing it, not trapped by it. Like I'm building something, not just maintaining what was left to me."

Emerson nodded. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face, his touch light against her skin, letting it trail down her back to feel her shiver. "That's because it's ours now," he said. "Whatever we decide to build. Together."

The simple confidence in his voice made her heart swell. There was no pressure in his words, no expectation that she would stay exactly as she was or become something she wasn't. Just acceptance and the willingness to join her in her journey.

"My workshop is open for new beginnings," he added, a small smile touching his lips. "Whenever you're ready to start on the mill. Or anything else you want to create together."

Ava nodded, warmth spreading through her at the thought of working alongside him, of building something together that would be uniquely theirs. Not just the shop, not just the mill, but a life, a future created day by day, choice by choice.

"I'd like that," she said, her fingers tracing the line of his collarbone. "But not tomorrow. Tomorrow is just for us."

His smile grew, reaching his eyes, and making her heart skip. "I like the sound of that."

They lay together as the light faded completely, the room growing dim around them. The sound of their breathing, the occasional creak of the old house settling, the distant call of birds heading home for the night were the only sounds that broke the comfortable silence.

Ava felt herself drifting toward sleep, warm and safe in Emerson's arms. The events of the day—the decisions made, the bouquets created, the words finally spoken—had left her emotionally and physically spent, but in the best possible way.

Emerson's breathing had slowed, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep beneath her cheek. She looked up at his face, peaceful now in slumber, all guardedness gone. He looked younger somehow, the lines around his eyes smoothed away, his mouth soft and relaxed.

Through the bedroom door, she could still see the bouquet on the dining table, illuminated now only by moonlight filtering through the windows.

The flowers were just a silhouette, a reminder of choice, of return, of beginning.

The lavender would dry beautifully, lasting long after the roses and freesia had faded.

Just as some foundations were worth keeping, worth building upon, even as everything else transformed.

Ava closed her eyes, letting sleep claim her, Emerson's arms warm and secure around her.

In the last moments before consciousness slipped away completely, a single thought surfaced: this was what it meant to belong somewhere, to someone.

Not because you were tethered, but because you had chosen.

Not because you were afraid to leave, but because you wanted to stay.