Undeniably Yours (Torn, #3.5) by Pamela Ann
“You’re passionate nature matches mine. Your promise reflects my own. If something was to happen, it’s comforting to know that your dead heart will be intertwined with my lifeless one.” I vowed with ferocity. “My heart for yours, Emma.”
-Bass Cole, Blasphemous
Kiss My Heart
Have you ever tried to walk away from something you really wanted more than anything? After giving up on my parents, I had never come across another dilemma where I yearned to have something. Hold on to it. Love it. Until I did. And that it, was a woman.
A woman named Emma.
For those who were familiar with my dating record, I always went after the brunettes, the exotics and the accents. What did I like about them? Well… what’s not to like? I never went for ordinary. My tastes ran towards the peculiar and the unique. The more foreign the woman was, the better.
That was why the entire world wondered why I had fallen for the woman who was the polar opposite of my usual preference. An interviewer once asked me that particular question, yet I had no answer to give as to why that was except for what I felt when she was with me.
I knew loving someone wasn’t going to be a bed of roses, but never did I think it was going to be a total twilight of nightmares; all due to one man named Carter Mason, Emma’s ex.
Even with him in the picture, I pursued the blonde beauty, uncaring if the ex was hovering in the picture. I wanted her, that was all I knew. The rest could have their own opinions, but I yearned for this one person and I wasn’t going to give up because her ex was growling or stomping like a little boy on the sidelines.
No. I took her out on a date, held my stance and promised that I wouldn’t take advantage of a woman who was mending a broken heart. Yeah, Emma was devastated. There were a lot of instances where I could’ve taken advantage of her gullible state, but not once did I waver because I had promised that, once I had her, there was no going back. Not. Ever.
When Emma decided to go back to her love—her Carter—was I crushed? Very much; more than I was willing to admit to anyone, even to myself. I was shattered. My ego had been dented and my pride was bruised.
I thought then that no woman was ever going to get to mess with my head the way Emma had, vowing that when I saw her during our movie shoot in Greece, I would be cordial and pretend that I had never once cared for her. I had eight months to toughen up, so I had nothing to worry about.
Everything was set. My mind. My heart. My pride. My body. However, all that crap went down the drain after a hard, roughened sexual exercise with Alexia—my woman for the time being—when I found Emma standing in the middle of the goddamned cottage, listening to me banging someone on the wall.
“Lex, can you grab me some water, too?” I yelled out at Alexia as I put my boxers on before marching outside the door, hoping to enjoy the Aegean breeze. A satisfied smile plastered on my face as I took a step out of the bedroom and saw my weakness standing there, shocked and pale at the sight of me. “Emma?”
What was she doing in here? What did she want with me? She chose him, didn’t she? The sudden wave of memories, along with the emotions that went with it, resurfaced once again.
Emma barely squeaked at my question.
What the hell? Why wasn’t she moving to leave my cottage?
“What are you doing here?” Where the hell was Alexia? Hell, as much as I tried to stay away, the inkling to move closer was getting the best of me. Seeing her again, in the flesh, for the first time in so long, made me feel… everything.
Yes, everything was back like her rejection hadn’t happened.
Emma seemed unsure, staring at my chest then at the floor before she cleared her throat and spoke, not meeting my eyes, “I was told this was my cottage.”
By who? I wanted to demand, but someone distracted me. “Here you go, stallion.” Alexia kissed my lips and handed me the water I had asked for, however now it seemed that the last thing I needed was water.
I was thirsty—parched—all right, though not for refreshments. My reaction to her made me tense—a little angry even—but not at her; at myself for being so affected by seeing her again.
“I thought this was mine. Jack himself arranged it for me.” Bitterness rolled off quite nicely with my words. Although my tongue spoke bitter words, my eyes feasted on her. Emma still, to that day, was the only woman who could make my heart gallop like it had been running a marathon.
Emma’s eyes hardened before me, standing her ground. “Barbara arranged mine.”
Barbara, our agent, did this on purpose? What the f*uk for? To reconcile us or to provoke me some more? I hated how other people meddled in my business and I sure as hell didn’t need my agent to get in on my love life.
With a strangled groan, I retreated back to my room and hunted down my phone.
Emma could easily get another place to stay.
This was my cottage.
I had specifically asked to be placed as far as I could be from Emma. My agent was certainly f*uking with my head.
The sooner this problem was fixed, the better.
Then, all of my resolve—all of my fight—drained away the moment I kissed her during filming. You see, I had never kissed her. It was bizarre to be sprung the way I had when I hadn’t tasted the woman’s lips, but you know what? It happened to me and I couldn’t do shit about it. I had been hooked, line and sinker.