Songbird by Maya Banks Page A

down on her.
    “You make me crazy,” he rasped. “Do you have any idea how much I want you? How long I’ve wanted you? I can’t go slow, Emmy. Tell me you want me too. I can’t hold back.”
    She opened herself to him, wrapping her legs around him.
    “I want you, Greer. Please, make love to me. I love you.”
    “You have no idea what a miracle you are to me,” he said as he positioned himself. “I don’t deserve a second chance, but God, I want one. I need one.”
    She touched his lips, pressed one finger over them to silence him. Then she lifted her hips, taking him inside her. He lowered one hand to cup her buttocks and held her in place as he thrust.
    It wasn’t smooth or even practiced, and that was what she loved most about his lovemaking. There was an urgency to his actions that made him almost clumsy. His hands shook on her skin, and his thrusts alternated between smooth and slow and quick and rough.
    Their mouths met, tongues tangled, hot, breathless. His lips left hers and traced a frantic line over her jaw and down her neck.
    “My Emmy,” he breathed just as his teeth sank into the curve of her shoulder. “Say it again. Tell me you love me.”
    She smiled. “I love you, Greer. Always.”
    “Never leave again.”
    She stroked his back and closed her eyes as her orgasm built. “No. Never.”
    He lowered himself, covering her body with his. Only his hips moved as he arched over her, rising and falling as he dove deeper into her body.
    The friction was nearly unbearable. Hot. Electric. Wave upon wave of pleasure flowed through her body, fanning out in a hundred different directions.
    Sweet, like a song, hovering and balancing with just enough volume and then rising.
    “Greer!”
    Her cry was ripped from her lips, and she clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin.
    “My love,” he murmured.
    She tensed, her muscles squeezing, her groin clenched, and she tightened around him like a vise. He thrust hard and fast, his hips slapping against hers.
    She couldn’t stand it. Not anymore. With a harsh cry, she wrapped herself so tightly around him that she couldn’t breathe, and then she flew.
    Greer’s breath blew warm over her ear, the sound ragged. His cry mingled with hers as they fell over together.
    Floating. Spiraling gently downward. She was surrounded by warmth and softness.
    He pulsed deep within her and he remained still, keeping them locked together.
    Home. Such a beautiful word. One that brought such comfort. She was finally home. With those who loved her.

Chapter Twelve
    “Emmy, honey, can you come downstairs?” Greer asked outside her door.
    Emily put her brush down, tucked her hair behind her ear and stepped out of the bathroom to see Greer standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets.
    He looked uneasy, almost nervous, and that worried her.
    “Greer?”
    He relaxed and reached to take her hand. “Nothing to worry about. Promise. There’s someone here to see you.”
    She cocked her head to the side, apprehension tracing a chilly path up her spine.
    “Who?”
    He grimaced and then said, “Frank.”
    Her eyes widened, and she took a step back.
    Greer stepped forward again and tentatively put his hand on her shoulder.
    “Are you angry?”
    She shook her head but wasn’t sure whether she was or wasn’t. No, she wasn’t angry. She was afraid, and that made her angry.
    “No. I’d like to see him,” she murmured. “I should have stayed in contact with him.”
    Greer’s expression softened. “He’s been worried about you, sweet pea. He just wants to make sure you’re okay. Talk to you. There’s no pressure, I promise.”
    He extended his hand, and she took a deep breath before sliding her palm over his. He squeezed reassuringly and tugged her toward the door.
    Taggert was in the living room with Frank when she and Greer entered. Taggert immediately rose, his gaze searching her features for—what, fear? Worry? She was such a coward. But with his and