Her eyes narrow as she puts it all together, mumbling to herself while pacing. “Gar… gargoyle… goth… that’s why the questions… how the hell didn’t I figure that out? God, I’m so stupid.”
Grumpy Emma isdamnadorable.
“You go by ‘LoveLamb’ on Instagram, Em. Wasn’t exactly hard to find you.” I stand and walk over to her, taking her hands in mine and letting it all out.
“I was desperate to talk to you. But at the same time, I was furious at myself for wanting that so badly. I hid behind that name… and more than once, I felt jealous of Gargoth. He got to talk to you. Got your attention for more than five minutes. Meanwhile, every minute I spent with you felt like it dragged my wounds back open—and I could tell it did the same to you.” I take a breath, deep enough to fill my chest. “I’m sorry for being such a coward,little lamb.”
Emma breathes in with me, then says, “I’m sorry I made you think we couldn’t talk like we used to.” She presses her forehead to mine, and I close my eyes, inhaling the scent of her.
The past comes roaring back, stronger than before, and I have to regulate my breathing to hold it all together.
This… need.
“Let’s eat before I rip your clothes off,” I growl, barely holding myself back.
Before sitting down again, she plants a fast, rough kiss on my lips. As she pulls away, I catch her wrist and pull her right back in, kissing her harder, hungrier.
God, I could kiss her for hours. I grip her clothes in my fists, forcing myself not to take her right here on the coffee table. She needs to eat. She needs her strength.
I break the kiss and lead her back to the couch. This time, we eat in silence while the movie plays, but there’s no awkwardness in it. These silences were always ours—easy, comfortable. I steal a glance at her and think:this is the best start to a new year I’ve had in a long damn time. Emma Green, in my living room, wearing my clothes, barefoot, and mine.
My phone vibrates somewhere in the house, snapping me back to reality. “I’ll go check,” I say, getting up.
The group chat with my brothers has been blowing up since midnight. Oliver and Killian mostly. Silas is quiet—waytoo quiet. I should check in on him. I shoot them a quick Happy New Year text. From what I skimmed, Killian went to a party in Napa, and Oliver stayed home. I hate that he does that—never celebrates New Year’s with Property Group or anyone outside his damn ranch crew.
The storm’s still raging outside, and I pray it keeps going just a little longer so I can keep her here with me.
According to the forecast, we’ve got three days of this mess. Social media’s freaking out over the weird weather—everyone’s saying the year can’t possibly start like this.
Everyone but me. I’m smiling.
I sit back down next to her, this time a little closer than before. The movie’s wrapping up. As much as I’m dying to touch her again, I wait. She looks really into the story.
But the second the credits roll, I slip an arm around her waist and pull her onto my lap.
She smiles like she’s been waiting for this moment, too.
I take off her clothes. Drop my pants.
And make her mine all over again.
Emma’s asleep on my chest, her hand resting right over my heart, her bare leg draped across mine, breathing slow and steady.
Outside, the rain taps gently against the windows.
I inhale the scent of her hair, that soft sweetness that always reminded me of something warm and familiar. My whole body relaxes with her weight against me, with her heat, withher.
I never gave a damn about a fat bank account or owning the biggest mansion in Miami Beach. This—thisis what I wanted. I wantedher.
My fingertips trace the soft curve of her back, like I did the night of the party. Her skin is still the softest thing I’ve ever touched. Still feels like home.
If the devil himself showed up at the foot of my bed right now and offered me a deal—Emma in exchange for everything I own—I’d sign it in a heartbeat. Like Faust.
Emma shifts and groans a little.
“What is it?” I whisper, brushing the curve of her waist.
“I can hear you thinking,” she murmurs, her voice still thick with sleep.
