CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Emmett
CONCENTRATING ON painting was a no-go. It left too much space for his thoughts to take over. For his thoughts to turn to Wilder and how good those lips had felt against his. How perfectly Wilder’s body had pressed against his.
A groan rumbled through him, and he gave up on going back to painting. He walked to the couch, gaze catching on his book lying on the ground next to his bag. Maybe that would shut his brain up? He bent down to pick it up, opening it. He hadn’t had a chance to start it yet, so the piece of paper sticking up a few pages in wasn’t his.
He sat down on the couch with a smile on his lips. He drew his legs up, laying the book against his knees, and started reading. He was easily pulled into the world of knights, dragons, and murderous conspiracies. It was the kind of story that had him fighting not to skip ahead on the page to see what happened next.
A creaking sound had his head snapping up, his forehead puckering when he didn’t find Wilder in the doorway. Of course, he didn’t. It would be hours before he returned.
A sigh pushed past his lips, and he grumbled under his breath as he took his receivers off, shoving them into his front pocket. There was no use in listening for Wilder. It would only pull his thoughts back to him and away from the knight braving a deathly trial to ask the dragons for help in the war his kingdom was losing.
He stood, forcing his attention back onto the page as he made his way through the room and out the doors, heading for the kitchen to grab a snack. He might as well settle in while Wilder was gone.
He barely stopped reading while he looked for the bag of chips he was certain he’d spotted somewhere in one of the cupboards earlier. It was nowhere to be found, so instead, he grabbed the small pack of Milk Duds he did find, holding it under the book as he made his way back to the boxing room, eyes firmly on the page because he’d just reached an exciting point that could change everything for the knight.
He turned the page as he walked through the double doors, a smile flittering across his lips when he reached Wilder’s paper bookmark. He couldn’t wait to talk about what he’d read with Wilder. He had a feeling Wilder would enjoy the conversation even more than him, and he’d probably end up blushing by the end of it.
When he reached the couch, he crouched down to pull his phone out of his bag. No calls. No texts. Unsurprising. He shoved his phone back into the bag along with the Milk Duds, gaze returning to his book. He couldn’t remember where he was on the page, so he started at the top again. He straightened, intending to take a seat on the couch when he noticed the shadows dancing across the wall. His own shadow was still; bigger shadows moving along the white wall. Rapid flashes of light made him whirl around, the book slipping from between his fingers.
There were men on the floor, bleeding, maybe even dead. Someone was standing over them, chest heaving visibly. His head snapped up, and Emmett’s breath got stuck in his throat.Time stood still as he stared into green-flecked eyes. He blinked, and then Wilder was in front of him, signing,“You OK?”
He gaped at Wilder for a long moment, then took in his ragged look, the way his chest moved rapidly, his cheeks flushed, and?fuck.
“You’re bleeding,” he hissed and grabbed one of Wilder’s hands, studying his bloodied knuckles. He was running his fingers over the cuts and bruises gently when his head was tilted back by a hand under his chin.
“Wild?”
Lips crashing over his cut him off, and a moan ripped from his throat at the feel of those desperate lips and rough stubble against him, the hand on the small of his back tugging him into Wilder’s bigger, harder body.
As much as he was enjoying it, there were dead people on the floor.
He let Wilder carry on for a moment longer because he was incredibly soft for this man, but then he broke the kiss, moving back in Wilder’s arms so he could see his face. Wilder’s lips moved, but his concentration was completely shot, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out his receivers.
“Scared me half to death,” Wilder said, his voice coming through garbled, and at first, he thought it was his CIs, but one look at the haunted expression on Wilder’s face, and he knew it wasn’t.
“Sorry?Iscaredyou?” He blinked at Wilder. “What the hell happened?”
Two lines formed between Wilder’s brows, something warring in his eyes.
“What?”
Wilder sighed. “It was a diversion. So they could get to you.”
“To me? Why?”
“I don’t know,” Wilder said, the growl in his voice making Emmett’s heart skip a beat. Fuck. If Wilder was scared… He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to get scared. He could dothat later. Right now, he needed to reassure Wilder that he was alright. That he was alive. Because of him. Because of what he did.
“You saved me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, the crack in his voice snapping Wilder’s attention back to him.
He took one of Wilder’s hands in his, bringing it to his chest and placing it right over his heart. A shiver went through Wilder’s body, and then he buried his face in the side of Emmett’s neck, breathing in deeply. He held on, eyes closing as he tried to keep his heartbeat steady for Wilder.
They remained like that for a long moment, both breathing shakily, until Wilder pulled back, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Emmett’s head.
“We need to go,” Wilder said, tugging on Emmett’s hand to turn him toward the door.
“But?”
