Emery shook his head, jostling the unsettling thoughts and memories, shoving them into the dark box inside his head and locking them up. The sense of otherness, the awareness of that external part of himself he could have sworn died twenty-five years ago, faded. The clean scent of trees wet with recent rain filled him and he drew a breath upon the cool air, letting it clear his head.
“It’s so beautiful.” Sophie seemed unaware of the dark path his thoughts had traveled. She pressed a palm against the window, peering out at the monolithic home. She unknowingly teased him with the close proximity of her body. It took every ounce of control not to drag her into his arms and claim her with the hunger that gnawed at him.
Emery wasn’t looking at the house, but at her. She had a luscious figure:
