I don’t think that’s true. Emmett’s a good guy.
Shit.
Clara
Holy. SHIT. You’re talking about the Blades defenseman Emmett Richards!
Me
Please, PLEASE don’t say anything.
The next thing I know, a voice message lands in our text thread.
Lowering the volume, I hit Play and hold the speaker to my ear.
“Okay, so this is where I take it all back,” Clara’s giddy voice whispers down the phone. “Bang him. Fuck his goddamn brains out. Emmett freakingRichards? Girl, he is quite possibly the hottest thing I have ever seen on skates, and here you are, sitting in his apartment at five in the morning, listening to my voice note when you should be hearing him call you a good girl. Woof.”
I snort a laugh and close out the message, setting my cell down beside me on the duvet.
What would Emmett do if I crept into his room, dressed in tiny pajamas?
Maybe his light is an invitation for me to do just that?
With my confidence bolstered and inhibitions at an all-time low, thanks to Clara’s voice note, I cross the hallway and stand at Emmett’s door, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep breath as I twist the handle.
A large king-size bed sits in the center of another stark white room, one bedside lamp lit and a dark gray duvet thrown back, almost like he climbed out of bed in a hurry.
Turning on my heel, I realize how stupid of an idea this really is when the sound of his shower turning on stops me in my tracks.
With the door to his en suite partially open, the opportunity to take a few more paces and catch a glimpse of the naked body I know I’ll never get to touch proves to be too tempting.
My conscience knows that this is wrong on so many levels,but the increasing thrum of my pulse urges me to keep moving forward.
And when my hand finally reaches the door, pushing it open so I can get a better view, my previously fast heart rate spikes.
This isn’t how I expected to find Emmett. I thought he’d be standing under a stream of hot water, massaging soap into his glorious body.
Instead, he’s massaging his dick.
Up and down, his fist moves from the base to the tip of a long, thick shaft, the other hand braced above his head, palm splayed out against a white tiled wall.
I should back away and leave, but I know he can’t see me, his head bowed between his shoulders, muscles rippling in his back.
Another stroke of his hand pulls a groan from his throat and then … a breathless cry of my name from his lips. He’s close, and I’m wet, thighs pinching as I brace a hand on the doorjamb in front of me.
Move, Billie.
Emmett switches hands, beating a fist against the tiles as his pleasure picks up. He’s fantasizing about me, and it’s the hottest fucking thing I have ever witnessed.
He’s the hottest man I have ever seen.
I toss my gaze toward the ceiling, fighting the urge to reach inside my panties.
“Billie?!”
When Emmett repeats my name, I know it’s not a lustful plea.
And when our eyes connect, water cascading down his horrified face, what remains of my soul rapidly leaves my body.
