“Kinda in the clouds, if I’m being honest.”
That only made his smug smile wider. Leaning forward, he dropped a kiss on my nose. “See, it’s like this. The girls are at my parents’ this weekend. Friday night through Sunday. And I want you in my bed that entire time.” His voice was calm, matter-of-fact.
Oh Lord.
His eyes searched mine. “But I need to know that’s what you want too.”
God, the way he said it. So direct. So sure of what he wanted, but still giving me the choice.
“I do,” I whispered. “Want you, I mean. I just...”
“Just what?”
I bit my lip, trying to find the words. “I’m not sure about…” I gestured to myself. Standing in there in just my bra and unbuttoned jeans, my scars on full display, I felt almost overwhelmed with uncertainty.
His thumb traced my bottom lip, pulling it free from my teeth.
“Emily.” He waited until I met his eyes again. “How about this? All you gotta do right now is decide if you want to hang out. If yes, we go at whatever pace you need. If Friday night comes and you change your mind, that’s fine. We’ll watch a movie and eat pizza and that’s it. But I need to know right now if you even want to try.”
Did I want to try?
I was still buzzing from what he’d just done to me. Still overwhelmed by the way he’d touched my scars like they didn’t matter. Still trying to process that this man, this gorgeous, patient, impossible man, wanted me in his bed for an entire weekend.
Fuck yes, I wanted to try.
“Okay,” I said softly.
“Okay?” His eyebrow raised slightly.
“I want to stay over this weekend.” My voice was stronger this time. More certain. “I want to be in your bed.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Heat. Satisfaction. “Good.”
Then he was kissing me again, slow and deep, like we had all the time in the world.
When he finally pulled back, I was breathless all over again.
“You should probably head home,” he murmured against my lips. “Before I decide I can’t wait until Friday.”
I laughed, the sound shaky but genuine. “Yeah. Probably.”
With that, he bent down and picked up my shirt from the floor. Instead of handing it to me, he gathered it in his hands and lifted it over my head, helping me slide my arms through. The gesture was so tender, so domestic, it pulled at my heart in the best possible way.
When my head emerged from the fabric, he was smiling at me.
“Friday,” he said. Not a question. A promise.
“Friday,” I agreed.
CAM
Isquinted at the blob of glitter glue Alice had just deposited onto her construction paper. “Is that supposed to be a dragon?”
“It’s aunicorn, Daddy.” She rolled her eyes. “Unicorns can be sparkly.”
“Right. Obviously.” I handed her another bottle of glue, this one purple, and watched as she and Audrey bent over their art projects with the kind of focus I wished I could muster.
But of course, my thoughts were all Emily, Emily, Emily. I felt like I was holding pieces of a puzzle and couldn’t quite see how they fit together, but I wasn’t sure I liked the picture they were forming.
