If she genuinely didn’t want to pursue our blazing attraction, I’d accept it—eventually. But judging by how her eyes kept darting to my lips and the visible pulse point in her neck, I was more than certain she’d prove me right.
Ishouldlet her have that little piece of feigned control, but focusing on her hands still pressed to my chest, I knew I couldn’t. She needed to know where I stood. The line in the sand had been blown away, decimated by a vortex of wind and lightning. All that was left was me. Me and this big, gaping hole directly above the center of my chest. A spot designed for her. That was what she had always been—my missing piece.
She was the reason I’d trudged through each day, drifting from subpar relationships to shitty one-night stands. She was the emptiness I felt down to my bones, knowing no one would—couldfill it but her. My desire for Emma was a force of nature, as unrelenting as waves in the ocean. Sobering, ice-harsh reality crashed over me, slicing through my veins as I pulled her closer.
Her arms crossed over her chest, and her hands bunched into fists as her eyes darted between me and the door, likely thinking about her date. That wasfine.The prat could stand out there and suffer for a few more minutes. Perhaps he’d used the time to look in a mirror and realize the gel-slicked hair look went out of style in the nineties.
I had no claim over her. No right to ask for anything. Not yet, at least. At most, she’d think I’d been sniffing paint fumes, and my obnoxious behavior was a direct result. But even if she laughed in my face—or punched me in the jaw—she had to know. It was only fitting, making sure she had all the available and accurate information before making a choice.
“I’m sorry. I assumed you gave your address to someone you’d never met, but I’m not sorry for how I acted. I’ll never apologize for caring about you.”
Her arms dropped to rest on my waist, and I counted to three, expecting her to pull away. When she didn’t, I pressed on. “Ask me,” I said, the words sounding harsh on my tongue. I watched her swallow, eyes darting to my lips as her grip tightened.
“Ask you what?” Her voice was a caress against my skin, a whimper of promises that had gone unsaid.
“Ask me when I started to see you differently, because I do.”
“Differently?” she parroted, shaking her head and stepping backward, breaking my hold on her. I hovered closer as she moved like we were dancing, only stopping when her back pressed against the kitchen wall. I placed one arm beside her head and used the other to trail my fingers against her jaw, leaving her with little choice but to stare at me and wait.
Her perfume was a drug I craved, and her body molded perfectly to mine as I closed the last inches that separated us and caressed the smooth, silky skin of her neck. My other hand splayed over her lower back as I drew her closer, brushing my fingers against her dress.
“Yes. Ask me. Please. Ask when I saw you as something—someone more. Someone I could fall in love with.”
Her breath hitched, and her mouth opened just wide enough for me to feel the warm air on my neck. It was intoxicating. She was intoxicating.
“You need to know where I stand. Let me show you, baby, but please don’t make me wait too long before letting me know if you want this as much as I do.”
That was my only warning before bending closer to claim her lips. There were no gentle, teasing strokes, only liquid fire scorching my insides as her hands rested on my hips, tugging me closer. I took possession of her mouth, loving how she gave asmuch as I did. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Emma kissed me the same way she did everything, with unbridled enthusiasm, throwing herself in headfirst—knowing I’d be there.
I should be sweet and slow after baring so much, but bubbling underneath the surface was the rough, punishing need to burn every thought from her head, leaving her consumed.
The feeling of my tongue entwined with hers as my hand traveled across her stomach and toward the exposed skin of her collarbone had my cock straining against my zipper.
Our lips crashed again and again, little whimpers spilling from her lips until all coherent thought was lost, leaving nothing but a repeating word in my brain—mine.
Chapter 17
The date wasa disaster—of course it was. What had I expected after that kiss? Watching Miller openly adjust his dick and then saunter out my door like he hadn’t just thrown a wrench into my carefully constricted plans? That was how the date with Court started—and it went downhill from there.
I drank too much, trying to cope with the realization that Miller might,perhaps,see the potential for us to be more thanfriends. Then I decided the best course of action was to go on a rant that lasted from our appetizers to our entrée about how much I despised a show on Netflix simply because the lead actor was British.
Clearly, I had some issues with Headmaster Hopkirk that I needed to work through.
Court tried, more than I deserved, to talk about common interests, the sports he joined in college, and even some random romantic comedy playing at the theater, but I couldn’t vibe with him. With every comment he made, I compared it to Miller. From the way he styled his dark hair to how big his belt buckle was, nothing was right.
I paced the living room, a habit I’d formed in college when I needed to work out something particularly difficult. It drove my roommates bonkers, but Minerva never seemed to mind. Now, it wasn’t a statics problem that had me stumped. It was the onslaught offeelingsthat had surfaced with Miller.No. Not feelings.More like a stupid little crush because of my crummy dates and his sweet demeanor. That kiss wasnothing.It was his way of—what?
So what if he’d never kissed me like that before?
So what ifno onehad ever kissed me like that before?
So what if he gave me some cryptic line about showing me where he stood?
So what if the possessive, territorial monster that demanded an explanation for giving a strange person my address was secretly a massive turn-on?
I was one thought away from a full-on nuclear meltdown when he arrived unannounced, trying to convince myself the next date would be the one.
There was ranting and second-guessing and trying not to poke myself in the pupil with purple eyeliner. To make matters worse, he showed up with flowers, wearing black slacks thathad no business looking as good as they did. It was like he was purposely teasing me with his body, saying,‘Ha-ha, Emma. I suppose you can keep using me as your little fuck-toy since you’re about to go on another horrible date.’
