You know how sometimes a story takes up residence in your mind and won't be silenced until you put words to it? That's what happened with this one. I've always adored Emmett, and I've developed a soft spot for Rose in the time that I've been writing fan fiction. I really enjoyed writing this little story, and I hope that you'll enjoy reading it as well.
We all know Rose's background, so be forewarned that this does deal with some sensitive issues. I tried to handle them as delicately as I could.
Everything you recognize is the property of Stephenie Meyer, I'm just playing in her sand box. But how can I help it when she gave us such fascinating characters?
"How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill? A kiss, and all was said."
Victor Hugo
The moon was bright and full, casting its silvery shadows over the stillness of the night. I stood perfectly motionless at the window, noting absently how the silver of the moon played with the gold of my hair in my reflection. I toyed with one of the curls that cascaded over my shoulders, twirling it around my finger, over and over.
I noted as well, in some distant part of my mind, how the moonglow gave my features an otherworldly quality. More angel than human. On the outside at least.
I knew very well that I was vain. I always had been. I was beautiful, and I was very aware of that fact. But I'd found my beauty to be curse as much as blessing.
Perhaps if I'd been ordinary my life never would have taken this path to begin with. Perhaps if I'd been plain, I'd still be living out my, admittedly, petty and inconsequential dreams instead of being trapped inside this endless nightmare.
But if I had to live in this frozen, unchanging cage, at least I could comfort myself with the knowledge that the cage's trappings were those of unspeakable beauty.
That had been my one and only solace in this life... until recently.
Until Emmett.
My life had changed irreversibly the moment I'd seen him lying on the forest floor, broken and near death, his face twisted in a grimace of pain... yet resigned to his fate. There had been something about him that had called to me. I didn't know entirely what it was at the time, but I knew I couldn't let him die.
In perhaps what would be the most selfish act I could ever commit, I'd chased the bear away from his broken body, snapping its neck in retribution for the crime it had committed, and lifted the man's bulky form into my arms. I ran faster than I'd ever run before, racing against time as I heard the beats of his heart slowing, felt the river of molten fire flow down my arms, down my body, as his blood poured from his wounds.
I held my breath, fighting with every ounce of stubbornness in my body to ignore the burning of my throat. I didn't dare bite him to bring about his change myself – I couldn't take such an enormous risk. I needed help.
His breathing was shallow and raspy with impending death, gasping for each lungful of air by the time home was in sight. I'd burst through the doors, screaming for Carlisle to help me – to help us – before it was too late.
Carlisle's eyes were wide with disbelief, both, I was sure, at my bloodied appearance and my unexpected request. Distraught, I begged him to change the dying man that I clasped in my arms. His eyes darted uncertainly between the two of us, deliberating as he helped me to lay the broken man on one of our spare beds. I held his gashed, bloodied face against my breast, willing him to hold on just a little bit longer.
I never knew exactly what fueled Carlisle's decision to give in – he'd sworn after he changed me that he was finished playing with other people's fates – but something changed his mind.
Emmett burned for three days, thrashing and crying out. I never left his side. I stayed with him, cleaned his wounds, and kept a vigil over him through it all.
The moment he'd awakened and had seen me – when recognition and awe filled his eyes – that one moment had changed my life for good.
That had been two years ago.
And in those two years, I'd learned exactly why I'd been so drawn to save him in the first place. Emmett was my other half. Now that I had him, I wondered how I'd ever thought I was whole without him at all.
He was just exactly the kind of person I needed. He balanced me. He made me smile. He taught me how to laugh again.
He was my opposite in every way, but, somehow, we were right together. He completed me. Perfectly.
Emmett viewed life so simply. There were no what ifs. No questions of what might have been. There was only what was. Mentally, he'd acclimated to this life very quickly… his one concern was the family he'd left behind.
The McCarty family was a large brood. Emmett was the oldest, with eight younger brothers and sisters. Ever since he'd been able to, he'd helped provide for them in whatever way he could, whether by working for a few coins or hunting for food to feed them.
It had distressed him to know that he couldn't provide for them anymore. And distress wasn't something we were accustomed to seeing from him, jovial and carefree as he always was.
Much as Edward grated on my nerves at times, it had been him that proposed the solution. He'd given Emmett a large sum of money and told him it was his to do with as he wished. At that moment, it was like a huge burden had been lifted right off Emmett's broad shoulders.
That night, he'd disappeared. The next morning, when he returned, he told us where he'd gone… but we all knew already. He'd taken the money and left it on his parents' doorstep.
After that, he never looked back.
I'd questioned him about that. I asked him if he didn't miss his family… the way I still missed mine.
He'd smiled that smile I'd grown to love so well and just shrugged. "Of course I miss them. I'll always miss them. But it doesn't do any good to look back. And besides," he said, wrapping his burly arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to his side, "you're my family now, Rosie-girl. I don't need anybody else if I've got you."
After that, I hadn't brought it up again. How was I to argue with that answer? It was selfish, yes, but I liked that he needed me above all others… that he was happy if he only had me.
Perhaps the hardest thing I'd ever had to do, was to tell Emmett how my life had ended. I'd been terrified of what I'd see in his eyes as he realized that I was broken… as he realized that I wasn't whole. I wasn't really who he thought I was.
I was damaged. I was used.
I'd been so afraid to see revulsion in the eyes of the one person whose opinion mattered to me – terrified to watch his love turn to scorn or disdain.
But I knew I had no choice.
I had to tell him. He needed to know before he committed to building any kind of life with me. I could only hope, with everything I had in me, that it wouldn't make him change his mind. I didn't know what I would do if it did. I couldn't live without him now. Not anymore.
Emmett had been concerned when I'd taken him aside, to a place where there were no prying ears. He'd known from my posture alone that something was very, very wrong.
I hadn't been able to look him in the eye, too afraid of what I might see, as my voice had broken and faltered, choking around the words I'd had no choice but to speak… telling him about my shame.
My arms had wrapped around myself, my body had trembled like a leaf caught in a storm. I felt so… dirty… covered with a filth I could never escape.
But then another pair of arms wrapped themselves around my shaking body… strong arms that, somehow, I knew I could trust to be there to hold me together even when I was falling apart.
He'd held me while I sobbed, rocking me back and forth in his arms like a child. His hand stroked over my hair. His voice whispered in my ear over and over how much he loved me, how strong I was to survive what I'd been forced to endure.
But I didn't feel strong. Not at all.
I felt weak and disgusting… and pitiful.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he'd chanted as he held me closer.
"Why?" I gasped around my sobs. "What could you possibly have to be sorry for?"
"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he said simply. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe."
With that, I'd clung to him tighter, burying my face in the broad expanse of his chest… and I'd fallen in love with him even more.
Later, when he'd had time to process, he'd been murderously angry with the men who'd hurt me, but with me, he was even more attentive and protective. He proved a little more every day that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to make me happy. He was always looking for little, unexpected ways to make me smile. And he was becoming very accomplished at finding them.
One sunny afternoon in early May, we'd been sitting in a field a little ways apart from the house, enjoying a rare sunny day. I sat with my back leaned against his chest, enjoying the warmth of his solid form behind me and the sun beaming down on my face.
"Here," Emmett said suddenly, handing me a dandelion that he'd so carefully plucked from the ground. He moved with a practiced slowness so that he could place it in my hand undamaged. It was obvious that he was very proud of himself for not crushing it, delicate and insubstantial as it was. He'd worked so hard to learn to control his strength. And it wasn't a lesson easily, or quickly, learned.
Baffled, I looked at the dandelion I now held, wondering why in the world he'd given me a weed. It wasn't the least bit pretty. It didn't even smell nice. What was the point?
He chuckled at the confusion on my face, the dimples on either side of his mouth appearing as his smile lingered.
"And what exactly am I supposed to do with this?" I asked him, holding the fuzzy weed gingerly between my thumb and forefinger.
"You've never made a wish on a dandelion before?" he asked me like it was the most natural thing in the world to do something like that.
Apparently the look on my face was the only answer he needed. He laughed from deep within his belly at my dubious expression.
"Like this, Rosie-girl," he said, plucking another one and holding it a few inches away from his mouth. He blew a slow puff of air and the wispy white fuzz floated away on the wind. "Just like blowing out candles on a birthday cake, you close your eyes, make a wish, and then blow."
"What did you wish for?" I asked him, curious in spite of the childishness of the activity.
His dimples deepened as his smile widened still more. One huge paw reached up to cradle my cheek with a gentleness that hands so large shouldn't be capable of. "I didn't have to. I already have everything I could ever wish for right here." His thumb stroked over my cheekbone.
Immediately, my eyes began to burn, and I cursed this frozen body that denied me even the outlet for my tears.
That was so like Emmett... the simplicity and contentment in that one statement.
I slid my eyes shut, and leaned into his touch. It was silly and childish, yes, but for him I would play along.
With my eyes still closed tightly, I thought of all the things I wanted to wish for.
I wanted to wish for a life with Emmett… to live with him and love with him. I wanted to wish for the chance to feel his baby growing inside me… to watch his fascination as my body grew rounder, to witness the awe in his eyes, feel his hands resting on my belly, feeling our child kick from within… to see those huge, gentle hands holding a tiny son or daughter… a precious little baby with his dark curls and deep dimples.
I wanted to grow old with him. To watch our children grow up… to welcome our grandchildren… to hear their laughter as we sat on our back porch, hand in hand, while they chased fireflies on the lawn, lit by the colors of the setting sun.
I wanted that… more than I wanted anything else in the world. I wanted it so desperately I ached for it. My arms felt empty, my womb cold, as I thought of the children I'd never be able to give him… the little lives we'd never know.
I would have given anything… would have done anything… but it was no use.
To wish for any of that would be futile. Those doors were forever shut. Barred from the inside. While I stood on the outside, desperately longing for a way in.
Emmett had no idea the painful thoughts careening through my mind, and, for now, I didn't share them. He was such a good man, through and through. Better than I deserved.
He was still sitting motionless at my side as he waited for me to make my wish.
He was watching me when I opened my eyes. I made sure my face was smooth, no hint of my tortured thoughts in sight. I slipped my fingers through his, linking them on the grass, and blew on the dandelion in my hand.
As I watched the wispy seedlings floating gracefully on the wind, I made my wish. With my fingers laced between Emmett's, I wished to make him happy, to be the kind of person that deserved to be loved by him… to, somehow, someday, find a way to be content.
That had been three months ago.
And today, Emmett had given me one dream that I'd given up on long before.
Today, for the second time in my life, I'd worn a flowing white gown... this the first time it had been worn for a happy occasion.
Every eye was on me as I'd made my way down the aisle on Carlisle's arm. I'd heard every gasp and whisper of awe, every single person in the sanctuary who'd spoken under their breath that I was the most beautiful bride they'd ever seen.
The flowers, the music, the church... it was everything I'd ever hoped it would be... almost better even.
In all my dreaming, I'd failed to imagine someone as perfect as Emmett waiting for me at the altar.
I'd seen the look on his face as he watched me advance, and everything else had paled in comparison. I still heard the murmurings, still filed them away in my mind to think about and savor later. But for now, my focus was for him.
I would have given anything to know what thoughts were in Emmett's mind just then as our eyes met and held. I only knew he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world... like no one else existed for him but me. I felt cherished… adored. I felt loved. And I basked in it.
After we'd spoken our vows... after he'd kissed me – tenderly, sweetly – for the first time as his wife... after we'd made our way back down the aisle, arm in arm, and were dancing at the reception, laughing at something ridiculous that he'd said, I realized something with a sudden start.
For the first time in years, I felt... lucky.
I felt like something in my life had finally turned out right – turned out the way it was meant to.
The realization of that was a little overwhelming. It was in such stark contrast to the usual bitter resignation of my thoughts. I wasn't sure what to think or even how to express it. So, for the moment, I'd simply laid my cheek against Emmett's strong chest and swayed with him to the slow song.
We'd talked about going somewhere exciting and exotic for our honeymoon, but, for now, we'd decided against it. We'd chosen instead a cabin in Colorado. The scenery was stunning... the view of the mountains absolutely breathtaking. The location was quiet and remote. And there was no one else around for miles.
And now, two interconnecting thoughts ran on a continual loop through my mind.
Emmett is my husband.
And tonight is my wedding night.
If I had been human, my heart would have been pounding a rapid staccato beat in my chest as I considered what that meant. As it was, a feeling reminiscent of nausea churned in my stomach like thousands of tiny butterflies taking flight.
I loved Emmett with every fiber of my being, but I couldn't help being nervous at the thought of what tonight would entail... when he took me physically as his wife. I knew with a strong conviction that Emmett would never hurt me, but the horrors of my memories tried to sway me otherwise.
I'd been largely ignorant about the details of physical intimacy even when I'd been engaged... a lifetime ago. Such things were improper to speak of. I supposed my mother would have taken me aside before my wedding and told me the bare minimum that I'd needed to know before becoming a wife. But she'd never had that chance.
And my first introduction to that kind of intimacy had been gruesome... an act of brutality that surpassed what most people could conjure up in their worst nightmares.
I knew it wasn't supposed to be like that. I knew it wouldn't be like that with Emmett. He loved me. But still...
After hearing the way I'd been abused before, Emmett had refused to touch me before our wedding.
"You're a lady, Rose," he'd said, holding my face gently between his palms. "I'm gonna treat you like one... the way you deserve to be treated. I haven't exactly been an example of model behavior before," he'd said, ducking his head, uncharacteristically abashed, "but I want to do things the right way with you."
Many times, he'd embraced me, he'd kissed me... always telling me that he loved me. But he'd never gone further than that.
I knew it was possible to have a normal intimate relationship even after what I'd been through. I only had to look at Esme to see living proof of that. She'd been abused, too… in much the same way.
But where my attacker had been my fiancé, hers had been her husband. My torment had been over in a night, hers had gone on for years before she'd escaped.
Yet the one thing that was the same, we'd both wished to die.
But Carlisle had found Esme before her life had flickered out like a candle in the wind. He'd saved her and healed her… in more ways than one.
Just to look at her, I never would have guessed that her past bore those scars… not if she hadn't told me.
But, on the night that I'd exacted my revenge from Royce, she'd sat with me, baring that part of her history, knowing that I needed to hear it… to know that she understood.
But the part that had surprised me the most was when she'd told me how Edward, when he'd set off on his own, had taken the life of her so-called-husband as his first victim. He'd hunted him down, and he'd killed him in retribution for what he'd done to her.
Esme had understood why I'd done what I did. She couldn't give her approval of it, of course, but she did understand.
Yet, in her eyes, I'd seen for a split second – for one, single unguarded moment – what she couldn't quite hide. She was glad that he was dead. That justice had been served. That her pain had been avenged.
In the few years I'd lived with the Cullens, I'd seen the way she looked at Carlisle, the pure loving warmth in her eyes, the way she responded to his simplest touch – the way she'd welcomed it – and I'd wondered if I'd ever be able to reach that point with anyone.
And then Emmett had come along.
I still wasn't positive that I'd be able to reach that place, but for the first time, I felt a certain hopefulness that it was possible. Perhaps Emmett could bring to me the same kind of healing Carlisle had brought to Esme.
I could hear Emmett now, moving around in the washroom just off the bedroom, changing out of the clothes he'd traveled in.
I'd already changed... into a soft, satiny white nightgown that reached all the way to my feet. Little tiny seed pearls were fastened down the front. It was lacy and innocent... virginal.
I held back a snort at the thought.
Initially I'd had my doubts about wearing a white wedding dress. Did I even have the right anymore? I certainly didn't have any innocence left.
But Emmett had seen that something was troubling me, and, though I hadn't even really wanted to voice it, he'd managed to pull it out of me anyway. He had a particular knack for doing that.
I thought at first it was me that Emmett was upset with when I made my confession. He'd closed his eyes tightly, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
"Rose, I almost wish you hadn't already killed him," he'd said through teeth gritted tight enough to crumble the diamond in my ring to a fine powder. "Because there's not much I wouldn't give right now to find the bastard and rip him apart myself. You're wearing white, babe, and that's all there is to it."
He'd been adamant that what happened was neither my fault nor of my choosing. In his eyes, I still had my innocence.
Fervently, I wished I was capable of seeing myself through his eyes instead of my own.
I heard the creaking of hinges behind me and, in the glass, saw Emmett's reflection as he leaned against the doorjamb just looking at me.
His expression was soft and loving... awed.
He was wearing a blue pajama set, long pants and a shirt that buttoned down the front. But they did nothing at all to hide how truly massive he was... the broad expanse of his chest, the bulging of his biceps even through the thin sleeves, every inch of him pure muscle.
At five feet nine inches tall, I was certainly taller than most women – some men even. And I liked the distinct advantage that gave me. But next to Emmett's hulking form, I felt small... almost vulnerable.
Royce hadn't been nearly as tall as Emmett, and having such a sedentary occupation, he hadn't even a portion of his mass.
Yet I'd been absolutely helpless to fight Royce off all those years ago. He'd overpowered me no matter how hard I'd struggled against him.
But with Emmett...
I swallowed hard, feeling fear rise up thickly in my throat.
With surprising grace for someone so large, Emmett padded across the room to stand behind me. His head towered over mine in our reflection.
His hands rose to stroke up and down my arms in a soothing motion. "You're trembling," he observed in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
"I'm fine," I protested, hating that I sounded as weak and unsure as I did.
"That wasn't very convincing," he said with a trace of a smile, though it looked rather sad. He stooped down to press a soft kiss to the crown of my head. "We don't have to do anything tonight, Rose. Not if you don't want to."
I shook my head adamantly. Royce wasn't robbing me of anything else. I wasn't going to let him. He'd stolen my innocence. He'd essentially stolen my life. I refused to let him rob me of my wedding night with the man I loved. A man who loved me in return.
With gentle hands, Emmett turned me around to face him, stroking my cheek with the back of his fingers. His eyes peered deeply into mine, and I wondered if somehow he could see all the way through me… right to the very heart of all the fears and uncertainties I tried so hard to hide.
"The very second you start to feel uncomfortable or scared, Rose, you tell me to stop, and I'll stop. I mean that – at any point. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do, I promise."
I simply nodded, not trusting my voice enough to attempt speech.
With his hands still caressing my face, he lowered his mouth, brushing tender kisses over my temples, my forehead, working his way down to my lips. I sighed when his lips found mine, leaning into him. This part was familiar.
His arms wrapped loosely around me, his fingers playing in my hair, his lips melting into mine… tenderly coaxing a response.
My arms looped around his waist; I took a step closer, laying my head against his shoulder. Stubbornly, I attempted to push every thought from my mind, focusing only on what I felt with him.
The feel and taste of his lips moving ardently with mine… polished and smooth as glass, yet soft. His scent that enveloped my senses… woodsy and clean – evergreens and man. His body pressed firmly against mine, muscular and masculine… exciting and terrifying all at once.
It wasn't until he pulled away with a final, lingering kiss, that I realized how closely I was pressed against him… how relaxed I'd become in his arms. I felt almost cold when he released me, immediately missing his closeness. He reached for my hand, then, wrapping his fingers loosely though mine.
The look in his eyes was indescribably tender as he took slow steps to the bed, sinking down on its edge. The butterflies took rapid flight in my womb again as that feeling of nausea began to churn.
He didn't try to tug me down beside him. His fingers remained woven loosely between mine, but his eyes invited me lovingly. He wasn't coercing. He wasn't forcing. He was inviting.
He was giving me the choice.
Swallowing hard, I lowered myself on shaking legs to sit beside him. I felt the mattress dip beneath me, felt his fingers caress mine, and forced myself to breathe. It wasn't until his other hand reached up, his forefinger tracing my chin, that I realized my teeth were pressed into my lower lip almost hard enough to break through the skin.
His lips, warm and tender, pressed beneath the swell of my lower lip, soothing the abused flesh. With a final, gentle kiss, he released me, even unlacing our fingers. His eyes never left mine as he scooted back onto the bed and laid down.
Emmett propped himself on his elbow, waiting patiently as I waged a war inside my head. Fighting against the tide of fear that swept over me like the rampaging waves of the sea, I hesitantly drew my legs up on the mattress and laid down beside him.
He didn't reach for me. He didn't touch me. But, as I overcame my fears enough to lay my head on the pillow beside him, his eyes shone with love and pride.
As difficult as it was, I was choosing to trust him. And he recognized that.
Long minutes passed by. The only sounds that disrupted the silence were those of our breathing. The longer we lay there, the more I noticed that my breaths had patterned after his. Slow and deep.
My muscles gradually uncoiled, the tension slowly dissipating as I lay next to him, getting lost in the amber depths of his eyes. It was then that I realized what he was doing… he was giving me time to adjust to his closeness this way. Time to adjust to the feeling of laying alongside a man.
In all that time, his eyes never left mine, not even to glance down. The thin white material of my nightgown hid very little of my body from him, but he resisted even a glance. His eyes held mine, caressing me without a physical touch.
He didn't look away. Not until I reached into the space between our bodies and held out my hand to him. Immediately, it was enveloped in the warmth of his palm. His fingers squeezed minutely around mine… encouraging me… recognizing my trust… and assuring me that I wouldn't regret it.
Feeling a sudden surge of bravery, I edged closer to him, letting him slide his right arm under my shoulders. I drew closer until I could feel the warmth of his big body seeping into my skin. My head found its resting place on his shoulder, and I nestled into his side.
His fingertips danced lightly over my spine, up and down, stopping at times to twirl strands of my hair around his fingers.
When my lips found the underside of his jaw, he took it as the sign of encouragement that it was intended to be. I felt the gentle rain of kisses on my face then. He left no inch of skin unattended by his lips. By the time he reached my mouth, I was breathless already in anticipation.
Just as before, his kiss scattered my thoughts. I was lost in sensation. His mouth captured first my upper lip and then my lower before settling gently, fully, over mine. His tongue, warm and moist, teased the inner surface of my lips.
His mouth teased and incited mine until I had no thought but to seek more. Before I knew what was happening, my arms were locked around his neck, my feet tangled with his. My body was straining to get closer, my mouth fused to his as our tongues explored, learning again the taste and feel of each other this way.
We were so close that we were breathing the same air, and instead of panic, my thoughts were occupied only by how to get him closer still.
His hands roved over my back, my neck, my arms. I felt the heat of them through the thin fabric of my nightgown, the want and desire communicated through his fingertips.
But when the heel of his hand brushed over the side of my breast, I froze… the spell of desire shattered in a single instant. Every muscle in my body locked, bracing for the pain I remembered.
My vision narrowed to a black tunnel… the only light at the end was that of memories frozen in crystalline clarity.
Hands groping… gripping and bruising tender flesh. A hand clasped over my throat, choking me. Covering my nose, my mouth, blocking my air, cutting off my screams. Taunting laughter. Sneering voices.
"Rose."
Tears coursed from my eyes. But that only spurred them on. They enjoyed the sound of my pain. My lungs burned. No air. No air to scream. My scream was trapped inside. I was trapped.
"Rosie."
Pain. My body burned from the inside, torn and bleeding. The faces above me blurred together from pain, from tears. The stones beneath me were cold, cutting into my back.
"Rosie, baby, open your eyes."
I begged for it to end. I pleaded for death to claim me. But my pleas fell on deaf ears. There was no one there to save me.
"Baby, open your eyes. Look at me… please."
The desperate voice sounded like it came from another world. It was distant. But it was familiar. It was a voice I loved. Fighting back against the darkness, I strained to reach that voice.
"That's it, Rosie. That's it. Open your eyes, sweetheart. I'm right here."
"Emmett," I gasped, realizing that my entire body was shaking, my lungs reflexively gasping for air as broken sobs wracked my body.
"Shhh," he crooned, reaching out to touch my face but pausing halfway, thinking better of it. "You're okay. Nobody's going to hurt you again."
He had retreated when I'd begun to panic, leaving a good six inches between our bodies… giving me space.
"I'm… so… sorry – " I gasped around my sobs. I was being ridiculous. He hadn't hurt me. Not even slightly. He'd barely even been touching me… but his hand on my breast had been all it took to remind me of my brokenness… to take me right back to the hell that had ended my life.
"Hey," he said, cutting off my apology, raising his forefinger until it hovered over my lips. He didn't actually touch me, but he was close enough that I could feel the radiated warmth of his skin. "I don't even want to hear that. You don't have anything to apologize for."
I didn't have the will to argue with him just then.
He rested his hand on the pillow between us. He didn't reach for me. But he let me know he was there when I was ready.
I took several deep breaths, trying to reorient myself in the present, attempting to shake the ghosts of my past. Emmett visibly relaxed when I finally reached for his hand. I held onto it tightly like he was my anchor to sanity. Slowly – so very slowly – I inched forward until I was resting in his arms again.
I didn't know how long we lay there in silence, but Emmett never showed the first sign of frustration. The ardor in his eyes that I'd seen earlier had cooled to concern… and deep, tender love that he didn't need words to convey. He held me while I calmed down, stroking my hair, never pressing for anything more.
He was more than I deserved.
He was exactly what I needed.
And I loved him more than my pitiful words could ever express.
Swallowing the remnants of my fear, I sought out his lips with mine again, breathing in his sigh of relief. It took longer this time for him to coax a response from my body, but coax one he did. Eventually, I forgot my panic, losing myself inside his arms again.
I moaned in protest when he parted his lips from mine ages later, but he didn't go far. His eyes caught and held mine as his hand slid from my back, down the length of my arm, slowly advancing to my side, giving me plenty of time to object… not wanting to take me by surprise again. I tensed as he came closer to my breast, ready to curse myself when he moved away again.
His eyes grew thoughtful as he reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. He kissed each fingertip one by one before slowly lowering our joined hands to the dip of my waist.
"Show me," he whispered, nuzzling his lips against mine in a whisper of a kiss.
My hand rested over his, guiding it experimentally over my waist. He took his cues from me, letting me show him how I wanted to be touched. His eyes fell to our hands, watching as I guided his hand over my waist… up to trace my ribs… slowly, so slowly inching higher.
I bit my lip when our hands reached the outer curve of my breast. I froze again. And he froze with me. He didn't move… not to take his hand away, not to touch me. He let his hand rest where it was. Waiting for me to show him what I wanted.
I met his eyes, anchoring myself in him… in the present. He loved me. He wasn't going to hurt me. Holding on to that as my mantra, I took a deep breath and inched his hand closer.
I glanced down, watching as his much larger hand held itself pliable in mine. Slowly, I swept his thumb over the outermost edge of my breast. My muscles clenched as the nightmare threatened around the outskirts of my mind. But I rebelled against it. I wasn't going to them win. Not this time. They'd robbed me of enough.
Gritting my teeth, I kept on, slowly drawing our hands around until they fully cupped the rounded flesh.
Emmett hissed in a breath. I could feel him holding himself in check, giving me time to adjust… again. He wasn't pushing… even though I knew he wanted more.
He loved me. He wasn't going to hurt me.
Determined not to let my fears win again, I squeezed my fingers lightly around his, giving him unspoken permission to continue, and pulled my hand away.
For several moments, he held perfectly still. Until he felt my body beginning to lose some of its rigidity. His touch was light as his fingertips skimmed over my breast, stroking with the barest hint of pressure.
Instead of pulling away as my fears demanded that I do, I stubbornly chose to do the opposite, drawing closer to him instead. I sought out his lips again, needing the familiar contact in the face of a touch that was so unfamiliar.
Once my body finally relaxed again, his hands and his lips worked together to stoke the desire that had faltered before.
Just the pads of his fingers traced lightly over my torso, dipping into the valley between my breasts, never straying from the very edge. It took some time and a great deal of patience on his part, but my body did eventually relax. And when it did, his hands grew a little more bold, but no less gentle.
It was then that I registered the sensuality of those light touches. They incited a need deep inside, promised even greater pleasure. Unconsciously, my body inched closer in an unspoken request for more.
He cupped me in his hands, kneading gently. His thumb swept over the fullest part of the curve, back and forth in a caress that was more teasing than satisfying. Over and over, he repeated that caress, always avoiding any contact with the tip that was now straining against the satiny fabric of my nightgown.
Vaguely, I heard a plaintive whimper and realized belatedly that it came from me. Without thought, my body arched into his touch, seeking more. His hands and his mouth grew more purposeful as he took his cues from my body. They ignited a deep need that seared its way through my body, making me want things I never thought I'd be able to want.
Everything else was forgotten for now as Emmett's hands and mouth worked their magic in tandem on me. His mouth burned a blazing path down my neck, his tongue flicking over my throat.
It wasn't until I felt a draft of air at the base of my throat, felt the moist warmth of his mouth, his tongue, on my collarbones that I realized he'd released the first few buttons of my gown without my knowledge.
At the moment though, I couldn't find it in myself to care. A delicious haze of desire had cast me in its spell, and I was finding myself helpless to think of anything else.
Seeing that I wasn't protesting, Emmett gently released the next few buttons, following the path of newly revealed skin with his hands and lips. A small corner of my mind noted how large Emmett's fingers were in contrast to the delicate seed pearls. The merest twitch of those fingers could have crumbled them into a fine powder, but he kept that power carefully contained, mindful of his strength in contrast to their delicacy.
Even that small act was vastly reassuring.
Heat flared beneath my skin wherever he touched, and before I knew what had happened, the last of the buttons had been released and his hands were gently tugging the fabric down my arms.
I raised up to accommodate him, spearing my fingers through his hair and drawing his mouth back up to mine in a heated kiss. His breaths, like mine, were ragged and quick. He moaned from deep within his chest when my fingers tugged at the curly strands of his hair, and the needy sound ignited something primal and fierce from within me.
My hands skimmed over the thickness of his neck, fingers dancing over the straining tendons as I found my way to the buttons of his shirt. With much less care than he'd shown, I freed him from the fabric that covered him from the waist up. At least one of the buttons popped off, bounding against the wall. Neither of us cared.
Emmett was as reluctant to take his hands off of me as I was for him to do so, but one way or another, his shirt had to go. He raised up just enough to help me sweep it away, discarding it heedlessly to the floor.
My hands were immediately drawn to the breadth of his shoulders, grasping him, drawing him back down to me. My senses spun into overdrive at feeling the vast expanse of smooth, warm skin under my fingertips, begging for exploration. My hands raced over his broad back, feeling the flex of muscle, the ridge of bone.
We moaned simultaneously when he lowered himself to me as my arms drew him closer. Our bare chests meshed together, skin on skin, my breasts crushed against the hard plane of muscle. The dusting of hair on his chest abraded the tips causing them to tauten even further, needy and wanting. I pressed against him harder, trying to assuage the ache.
Our kiss turned ravenous as the flame of desire burned to heights I'd never dreamed I could feel. I wanted more. I wanted so much more. My body writhed against his, pressing myself closer until I thought I could be absorbed right into his skin. A coil of heat built low in my belly, a vague promise of the fulfillment that was just outside my reach.
Emmett's mouth tore away from mine, leaving me gasping as he kissed his way down my throat, over the valley between my breasts before latching his lips around the aching tip waiting for his touch. Again, my fingers were drawn to his dark curls as my breast was engulfed in the heat of his mouth. My head was tossed back, my breaths coming in shallow, gasping pants at the suction of his mouth on so intimate a place.
His left hand came up to tease the breast that wasn't being pleasured my his mouth, his thumb and forefinger rolling the aching nub between them, pinching lightly. Shards of pleasure coursed like a live wire from his hands and his mouth lower… much lower… to a place I'd never, ever dreamed I'd want to feel any part of a man's body again.
My legs shifted restlessly, tangling with his as he kissed his way across my chest to give the same attention to my other breast. "Emmett," I gasped, struggling to find my voice. I dared a glance downward then, seeing his curly head bowed over me, my breast, still wet from his mouth, swallowed by his huge palm.
"Emmett, please," I begged him, knowing on some inner level that he knew what I needed. My body was consumed by an ache that I'd never felt before… only it wasn't the kind of ache that hurt. It was a ball of fire coiling from my stomach to my limbs, promising an explosion of pleasure. And I wanted it… desperately.
I felt his smile stretch against my skin, and, with several hot, openmouthed kisses over my chest, he turned his attention lower, feathering caresses over my ribs and abdomen. My eyes slid shut again as his fingers traced over my navel, his tongue dipping inside. I shuddered, every nerve ending in my body alive and standing at rapt attention, anticipating his caresses.
His fingertips danced from one hipbone to the other, subtly slipping my nightgown lower… and lower still. His hands curved into the small of my back, raising me up just enough so that he could slide the flimsy fabric over my hips… and down my legs.
I was bare before him now, but before I could grow uneasy with that thought, he slid back up my body, finding my lips with his and rekindling with the heat of his kiss the fires that were threatening to wane.
I felt the sweeping caress of his fingers over my hips, tracing patterns on my abdomen, and I tried my hardest to ignore the tension gathering in my limbs as his touch came closer there. I kissed him harder, held him closer, trying to drown out the voices of the demons hissing in my ear.
Emmett's body bore down on mine, pressing me into the mattress. He was lost inside the haze of passion. I could taste it in his kiss. His touch was still gentle, but that made no difference to the fear clawing its way through me as his hands stroked over my thighs.
Suddenly, it wasn't Emmett hovering over me, it was him… his leering face, his taunting voice, his drunken, cruel hands, prying my legs apart, forcing his way in between them… crushing my body beneath his against the rocks, not sparing me his weight.
My breath froze in my lungs.
"Stop," I gasped in a broken scream. "Please, stop!"
Emmett jerked away immediately, coming back to himself as he realized how his control was slipping. He swore roughly under his breath. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking." He rolled to his side, bringing me gently with him. "Are you all right?"
I nodded, grasping his shoulders with my hands, grounding myself in him. "I'm fine."
He swore again, running his hand over my hair as I calmed down. His relief was obvious when I burrowed back into his arms.
Emmett's patience seemed to have no bounds as he held me once again, pressing tender kisses to my face. I was growing frustrated with myself, though. He hadn't hurt me. And I knew he wasn't going to.
It was Emmett. My husband.
He loved me. He would never hurt me. Never.
I trusted him.
And I wasn't going to let memories of that monster steal my wedding night. I was stronger than that. I was much too stubborn for that.
This wasn't anything like what had happened to me before. I knew that. And there was a part of me that took comfort in the fact that, as wrapped up in desire as Emmett had been, a single word from me had been enough to stop him. He stopped when I needed him too. And he still hadn't pressed for more, laying with me even now, stroking my hair, lavishing sweet kisses on my temples, my forehead, my cheeks.
Gathering my courage for another try, I curled closer to him, drawing his lips back to mine. He shifted this time, slipping one arm under me so that we could lay side by side. His mouth and hands resumed their exploration, encouraging me to touch him as well, to feel the sold warmth of him beside me.
Eventually, I lost track of time yet again, losing myself in him. Carefully, knowingly, he stoked the fires until they burned just as brightly as before… until my body arched into his, seeking more.
Slowly, so slowly, in a touch so light it tickled more than it satisfied, he skimmed over my waist, my hip, and down my thigh, drawing my leg up over his. His mouth held me in thrall, his tongue mating with mine in a sensual dance, distracting me in some measure from the direction his hands were going.
"Shhh," he urged a breath away from my lips when he felt my body tensing as his hands stroked the inner surface of my knee. "Do you trust me?"
I nodded. I didn't even have to think about the answer to that. I wouldn't be here in the first place if I didn't.
"I trust you."
"I won't hurt you, Rosie. You know that, right?"
"I know. I love you," I whispered.
He took my mouth with his again, nipping my lips lightly with his teeth, soothing the sting with his tongue, slowly drawing a response from me. I could feel his fingertips stroking up and down the outside of my thigh and hip, over and over. I forced my body to relax against him.
I remembered the seed pearls and the fragile dandelion… the gentleness of his fingers.
He loved me.
He wasn't going to hurt me.
He took his time, giving me a chance to adjust as his touch grew closer there. There was a part of me that wanted to stop him, but I didn't. I was stronger than that… I was going to be stronger than that.
In a caress so gentle it was little more than a whisper, I felt the very tip of his finger stroke the flesh between my legs. I tensed, my lips freezing against his.
He didn't stop this time, his fingers continuing their gentle exploration. He feathered soft kisses over my face, whispering reassurances to me.
Once I passed the initial shock, I forced myself to acknowledge that his touch didn't hurt. On the contrary, if I was being honest, it actually felt good.
Slowly, I relaxed back into his arms, seeking out his lips with mine again. He gave them willingly, sweeping me back up into a tender, sensual kiss.
His fingers glided easily over the folds of flesh, finding a spot that made me arch up into him, moaning as pleasure like bolts of lightning shot through my nerve endings. I felt him smile in triumph against my lips as my hips began rocking into his touch.
The things he was making me feel were shocking… I'd never imagined anything like this before. This was what intimacy was supposed to feel like? I felt like my body had surrendered control to him, helpless to feel anything but the mind-numbing pleasure he was wringing from me. It consumed every other thought.
I felt a tightening in my stomach, a spring of heat coiling and spreading through my limbs. It was just like before, spiraling, contracting, expanding in a rush of heat. My muscles locked into place, seeking what was just out of my reach.
Emmett's fingers pressed harder into that bundle of nerves that controlled my pleasure, and I shattered, crying out. In some far corner of my mind, I knew I should probably be embarrassed by the sounds that fell from my lips, but I didn't care. Under Emmett's touch my body was caught up and tossed around in a vortex of pleasure. There was nothing else but that.
I was disappointed when it finally ended. My head fell forward onto his shoulder as I gasped reflexively for oxygen. I was still dazed and reeling, already craving that again. I'd had no idea. No idea at all.
Emmett kissed my hair. I felt his smile. "Beautiful," he whispered huskily. "Rose, that was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"Thank you," I murmured against his shoulder. He knew I wasn't talking about his words. It was so much more than that.
"That's just the beginning, babe," a smile rich with sensual promise pulled at his lips. "There's more. And it gets even better." He punctuated each word with a slow, seductive kiss. I was melting into him already.
Before I knew what was happening, I found myself fused against his body, our lips locked together in a heated kiss. My hands raked over his back and torso as he'd encouraged me to do earlier. His body felt so different from mine. He was all hard muscle and sleek lines. His skin felt hot under my fingertips.
My leg was thrown over his hip, opening myself up to his touch. I welcomed his caresses this time when they resumed. It was growing somewhat familiar – exciting and still new, but not terrifying and unknown as before. I knew what wonderful things those hands could do to me now.
His touch was bolder now, not only stroking as he had earlier, but gently probing now as well. I tensed to begin with when I felt the first intrusion of his finger, waiting for pain… finding that I expected it even though I knew better now.
I waited, but the pain didn't come. It felt strange, yes, but there was no pain to be found.
Emmett paused until he felt my body relax around him. I shifted my hips slightly, letting him know it was all right to continue.
His finger slid slowly, easily inside my body. He moaned into my mouth, and the sound caused a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.
In the midst of our kiss, his tongue matched the advance and retreat of his finger. It was odd at first, feeling him inside of me this way. I shouldn't have been surprised to find that it didn't hurt. But what surprised me even more was that it felt good. It felt very good.
As his hands and his mouth worked over me, I could feel the heat of my climax building like before. This time I knew what I could expect. And I wanted it.
Mindlessly, my hips rocked against his hand, trying to reach that pinnacle again. But just when it was right there, just barely outside of my grasp, he changed his caresses, calming me down instead of inciting.
He waited until my body was humming with pleasure rather than on the verge of release and then built it back up again. I knew he was using more than a single finger now, I felt fuller and more stretched than before, but I didn't care. He was touching me again. The heat of release was right there.
This time, I wanted to scream when he brought me back down instead of letting me have my release. I didn't like the way he was playing now. At all.
Again and again, he did this until I was so mindless with need that I would have done anything to reach that peak of pleasure. And he knew it. My mouth was frantic against his, my body clinging to his, begging for him to end the sensual torment.
I almost cried out when his fingers left me. My body felt strangely empty now without them. I wasn't so sure that I liked that.
I could have wept with relief when I felt him probing at the entrance of my body again. On some level, I was aware that something much larger than his fingers was working its way inside me, but I felt full again so I couldn't bring myself to care.
I was right there… right on the very edge of the precipice… I just needed the slightest push to fall over into the maelstrom of pleasure I knew was waiting for me.
Emmett's hips rocked into mine as we lay on our sides, slowly merging our bodies together. Gasping at the feel of this intrusion, I raised my head just enough to look at him. His eyes were clenched tightly shut, a look of deep concentration etched on his face. His breaths were ragged and rough, his muscles bunched and coiled.
Seeing him like that made heat ignite and burst into flame low in my stomach. My mind ceded control to my body. I was without thought now. I only wanted.
I grasped at his hips with my hands, trying to bring him even closer. I couldn't get close enough to him… not like this. As one, we rolled so that he hovered over me. His body slipped further into mine and we both groaned.
His mouth sought mine frantically; his hands raced down my body, stopping for only a moment to knead at my breasts, making me moan wantonly, before continuing on to find my legs. He drew them up and wound them around his waist, and I found that the motion sent him deeper still. My ankles locked around the small of his back, trying to hold him in place. But he knew that staying still wasn't what I needed.
He drew back until his body nearly left mine altogether. I very nearly began to protest until he sank back down, filling me again. I clung to him as we worked together to find a rhythm that left us both gasping.
I nearly arched up off the bed when his hand ventured down to where we were joined, finding that little nub of flesh that had given me such pleasure before. But whatever I'd felt the first time had been nothing compared to what was building inside me now. It had been a mere shadow of this. That had been mind-numbing. This was earth-shattering.
The coil of fire finally snapped, bolts of heat spearing through my limbs. I shattered beneath him, feeling my muscles contract, shuddering as pleasure like none other lanced through me. I was helpless under it.
I felt a rush of warmth inside, felt Emmett's big body shuddering over me and knew that he was experiencing the same bliss that was coursing through me now.
He lowered himself on trembling limbs when the rapture subsided. I was disappointed when it was over. I didn't want it to end. I craved him again already and he hadn't even left me yet. I didn't think or plan, but I found my body seeking his. He didn't object at all.
I knew without a doubt he had other things he could teach me about this kind of intimacy. And I wanted to learn them all. The knowing way he'd coaxed my body into responding, the ways he'd known exactly how to touch me to get the response he'd wanted, were not those of a novice.
I knew he'd been with other women when he'd been human. He hadn't given me details but he had admitted it. I despised every last one of those women with a murderous hatred on principle alone. But at the same time, I had to admit that I was glad one of us knew what we were doing. This could have been a disaster otherwise.
I contented myself knowing that I was the only one who would ever be with him this way from now on. He was mine. Just as I was his.
I'd known he had more to teach me, and I was right. The things he'd coaxed me into letting him do should have shocked me. But they didn't. I should have been mortified by the things I said and did. But I wasn't.
I'd had no idea that this kind of intimacy could be so… decadent. So… passionate and needy.
I was more than eager to learn. And he was more than eager to teach.
I grew bolder as the night wore on, the moon giving way to the sunrise. I wasn't fearful anymore… not with him. I wanted more… always more.
I wasn't certain how I managed a coherent thought at all, but somehow I did. I realized at one point that everything we'd done had been for me. He'd been intent on my pleasure, on teaching me how good it could be. And I was grateful for that. Because of him, I could enjoy my marriage bed instead of having it haunted by the demons of my past.
He'd taught me what physical love was in a beautiful way.
He'd put his needs second to mine, and I recognized that. Now, I wanted to thank him in a small way.
I pushed at his shoulders until we rolled so that he was lying on his back. I took his mouth with mine, kissing him the way he'd taught me until he moaned into my mouth. He hissed through his teeth when I sank down over him, taking him inside.
The muscle in his jaw twitched, his body rigid beneath mine. I recognized his steely control now, the way he was holding back for me. But I didn't want him to do that any longer.
I wasn't afraid anymore. And I had him to thank for that.
I scraped my nails experimentally down his chest to his taut stomach, loving his response. I traced the lines of his abdomen, watching in fascination as his body shuddered and clenched under my touch.
"Let go, Emmett," I whispered, trailing my open mouth down the center line of his chest.
He looked up at me with eyes glazed and unfocused in passion. That look did strange and wonderful things to me.
"You've been holding back all night so you wouldn't frighten me. I know that, and I love you for it. But, Emmett, I'm not going to break. I want this. I want you to let go now."
For a long moment, he looked deep into my eyes, gauging my truthfulness. What he found must have convinced him. "I love you," he rasped, grasping my hips. "God, Rosie, I love you."
I'd wanted him to let go, and let go he did. And I loved every second of it. His hips thrust up into me harder than before, driving deep inside. My body erupted into flames.
We moved in synch together, harder and faster than before. His hands raked over my body, finding the spots that left me gasping and mindless like he'd been searching them out all his life. He knew me… already he knew every inch of me. It was frantic… frenzied as we tried to get closer still. Always seeking more.
It went on and on, something deep and primal seeming to have been released from him at my request. He was taking and claiming. And I loved it. I gave it back.
He was mine.
I was his.
Always.
Eventually, he rolled over me again, his hips driving fiercely into mine. My nails dug into his back, my legs locked around his waist. Every thrust drove me higher on the bed, leaving me breathless and wanting. Feeling my release coiling inside again.
I watched his face as his climax approached, feeling a sense of wonder and fierce pride. He was glorious and all man, wrapped inside a pleasure that words could never do justice to. And it was because of me. I had done this to him. I was the one to give him that pleasure.
I'd never felt so free as I did then. So much a woman. For the first time in my life, I felt complete. With him. Because of him.
With one final thrust, he reached his completion, taking me right along with him. We rode through it together, clinging to each other tightly.
There was a strange clattering sound then… the sound of wooden slats hitting the floor. No sooner had my mind registered the sound than I felt a whoosh of air as the mattress – with the two of us on it – fell to the ground. With a crash, the headboard, footboard and bed frame came unhinged and fell into pieces on the floor.
I jumped, startled at the commotion. Above me, I felt Emmett freeze. When I looked up at his face, I saw that he was wide-eyed, looking at me like he'd been caught with his hand inside the cookie jar – like he was waiting to be reprimanded.
His expression was boyish and endearing, in such stark contrast to the primal need I'd seen on his face just seconds before. And it was then that the ridiculousness of our situation hit me. I actually giggled, biting my lip.
Emmett relaxed, seeing that this wasn't going to send me into a panic again. He choked back a laugh himself, and the sound he made was half snort, half cackle. And I found it inexplicably hilarious. It only made me laugh harder.
I laughed until the mattress shook, until, had I been human, my sides would have ached, my stomach would have hurt, and I would have had tears running down my cheeks.
I felt free.
I could count on one hand the number of times I'd laughed this way. Only when I was very young. Such hilarity wasn't befitting a lady of my social standing – or so I had been taught. Emmett couldn't care less if I was proper or not. His boisterous laughter shook me as he held me tightly against his side.
A wealth of inexpressibly tender love welled up inside me and my laughter slowed. I burrowed closer into his embrace and brushed my lips over his throat.
"I love you," I whispered, tilting my head back just far enough to peer into his eyes.
Every last measure of the love I had for him was reflected in his eyes, returned with an intensity that confounded me.
He loved me.
All of me. Flawed and imperfect, selfish and vain as I was, he loved me. And he had chosen to spend his eternity with me.
He'd told me before that hell wasn't so bad if you got to keep an angel with you. Looking into his eyes now, I could almost believe those words.
He was my angel.
My Emmett.
"So," I said, winding my legs through his. His eyes darkened at the desire that was dripping in that one word alone, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.
"So," he repeated, pulling me impossibly tighter against him, his fingers trailing slowly over my hipbone. Heat unfurled through me at his light touch.
"The bed's already broken," I stated.
"So it is." His caresses feathered over my body, scattering my thoughts.
"And it's not like we have any farther to fall." My breath hitched as his hands became more bold.
"You have a point," he murmured as his head lowered over the swell of my breast.
I gasped, my fingers locking into his hair as he teased the sensitive flesh. I tugged at his hair, pulling his mouth back up to mine.
"So what are you waiting for?" I whispered breathlessly against him.
Our lips fused together, bodies meshed, senses exploded in a rush of heat and fire.
For now, there was no past, there was no future. There was only him… only us.
And I was content….
I was happy.
"Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose. From out night's gray and cloudy sheath: Softly and still it grows. Petal by petal, leaf by leaf."
Susan Coolidge
This is the first time in the 2+ years I've been writing, that I've done anything that wasn't centered around Jasper and Alice. I'm extremely curious to hear what you think! I hope you enjoyed this closer look at Emmett and Rose as much as I did. :)
An interesting side note, the details about Edward giving Emmett the money and also him hunting down Esme's ex-husband are in the recently released guide. I couldn't resist throwing those in there.
Please take a minute and let me know what you thought!
Much love,
Nik