It made her contemplate other ways to get him to smile, and then her thoughts drifted to the shape of his lips, the chiseled line against the hint of stubble on his jaw. She forced her attention back to the end tables before she embarrassed herself and tried to trace his mouth with her fingertip. Compromising, she ran her hand over the intricate carvings, hiding her smile when she noticed Emerson following the path of her fingers.
“I got them in Bali,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out as a rasp. “Not too far from Australia.”
His eyes were dark and she had a feeling she wasn’t the only one thinking about something other than the tables. Before she could think of how to comment, he headed for the kitchen.
“The bottle is fine,” she called out as he reached into the cabinet for a glass.
He stopped and turned, hitting her with the kind of look she imagined he reserved for animal abusers and tax evaders.
“Never mind. A glass would be great. I wouldn’t think about drinking it any other way.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said, pouring the pale-gold liquid into a pilsner with exactly the right amount of head.As if there was ever any question. “Here you go.” He handed her the glass and a plate with two slices of pizza.
Her stomach growled, but she waited for him to settle on the couch beside her with his own plate and beer before taking a bite out of the chewy crust covered in melted cheese. She didn’t share Gabe’s aversion to vegetables, but the aubergine was better than she’d expected and the slight char of the other vegetables added a nice bite to the pizza.
“My God, this is good,” she said, rubbing the back of her finger over her lip to catch a stray bit of grease from the cheese. In any other food, greasy would be considered a bad thing but for pizza it was a necessity.
“Glad you like it.” Emerson watched her, a smile curving his lips, the heat in his gaze sending her thoughts spiraling again into places they had no business going.
Except, why not? They were both adults. Why shouldn’t they enjoy more than the pizza? It didn’t have to be complicated. Sex wasn’t for lots of people. The fact that she hadn’t gotten around to it yet was more a matter of circumstance than some kind of big life decision. She took a swallow of her beer, the grapefruit taste bursting in her mouth, a perfect complement for the pizza. She just had to figure out how to convince him it was a good idea. It shouldn’t be that hard given the fact he was looking at her the way she’d been looking at the pizza. It didn’t have to lead to rings and forever. Despite what he seemed to think about her age, it had been a long damn time since Sophie was naïve enough to believe in fairy tales.
They could just be two people enjoying each other’s company. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her and her body responded to him like he had her nipples on speed dial. The man just had to look at her and she had a hard time catching her breath, imagining his hands on her. His mouth.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he asked, reaching around her to grab the remote.
The position put him close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body and breathe in the delicious scent of his aftershave and something she recognized from his apartment as just him. She crammed the last of her pizza in her mouth so she wouldn’t shout “Hey dude, wanna take my virginity?” Nodding in answer, she washed down the pizza with another swallow of beer as he turned on the TV.
Floating on the aftermath of adrenaline with a belly full of pizza and beer, she relaxed back into the sofa. This time she didn’t hesitate to toe off her shoes, shifting to face him as she tucked her feet underneath her. She watched his profile, memorizing the slope of his cheekbones and the set of his jaw as he scrolled through the Netflix offerings.
“There’s a Bridget Jones thing,” he said, looking like a man who’d never ventured into the land of romantic comedy before.
“I’m more of aWalking Deadkind of person. Unless that’s too rough for you. I wouldn’t want to scare you.” She winked at him and had the pleasure of watching him suck in a breath before his lips curved in a smile.
“Lucille and zombies it is.”
––––––––
SHE WOKE UP to Emersonleaning over her to cover her with a chenille blanket. He was warm and the fabric of the blanket was soft against her skin. She felt cocooned and safe and very sure of what she wanted. She reached for him before she thought about it, her fingers twining around his neck. She didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing she remembered was watching them try to figure out how to kill Negan and arguing about bullets or fire as the most effective survival tool. Waking up to Emerson a breath away was better than anything she’d imagined.
“Hey sleepy, I lost you for a little while. You bailed on me before the big battle scene.” His voice was rough, and he searched her face as if he were trying to figure something out.
She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth to help him come to the same conclusion she had.
He moved closer, and for a fraction of a second, she thought he might give in and kiss her. She let her eyes drift shut in anticipation, but instead of his lips pressed against hers, she felt her world shift and tip as he hoisted her into his arms.
“Hey,” she said, tightening her grip around his neck. She wasn’t sure what she was protesting. She wasn’t tiny by any stretch of the imagination, but Emerson was clearly strong enough to carry her wherever he wanted to. She just hoped it was to his bed and that he’d be sharing it with her.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed. You need your sleep.” He cradled her in his arms, carrying her as if she weighed nothing, and started down the hallway toward the master bedroom.
She needed something but sleep wasn’t it. When he went to set her down, she held on purposefully sliding down the front of his body. He made no move to disentangle himself, holding her instead, his hands warm and strong against her back. She could tell he wanted her; she could feel the hard length of him pressing against the soft mound of her stomach. The thinnest thread of apprehension wove its way through her, but it didn’t begin to deter her. She wanted this. She wanted him.
Sophie had waited long enough, and she knew without a doubt Emerson was the kind of man who could show her what she’d been waiting for. He wouldn’t hurt her, and he wouldn’t bungle things like theboysshe’d dated in Broome. All she had to do was figure out how to tip him off to her no-sex-so-far status. Or not.Really, was there any reason he needed to know?He already had an annoying tendency to treat her like she’d been raised in a convent.Nope, no reason to tell him at all, she thought, tipping her head up so she could meet his gaze in the dim light of his bedroom. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she tugged him to her as she stretched up on her toes so her lips could reach his.
It started as the barest brush of a kiss. His lips skimmed hers as his hand slid up to cup her head. It was the sweetest, most delicious touch and her mouth parted on a sigh. She melted into him and everything shifted, got hotter. His tongue slipped past her lips, teasing and tasting, driving her higher with every stroke. She tightened her grip on his hair and swallowed his low moan, loving that she was taking him to the edge with her.
She couldn’t get close enough. Parting her legs, she hooked her thigh around his denim-clad hips, pulling him to her and letting out a groan when his fingers dug into her thigh. There were two layers of denim and too much fabric between them, and she still burned for him. She’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted Emerson. His grip on her tender skin tightened and she gasped against his lips. She’d wear his marks in the morning. The idea did something primal to her, ramping up her desire until she couldn’t wait any longer. Reaching between them, she slid her hands down the hard planes of his chest, feeling the muscles bunch under her palms.It wasn’t fair for a man to feel so good, so strong.Tugging on the hem, she tried to get to his bare skin, to run her hands over all that warmth.
“Wait,” he said, his voice a rough whisper in the dark.
