I shot her a wink. "We're celebrating tonight."
Chapter fourteen
Emma
Warmth surrounded me.
The solid weight of Damien's arm draped across my waist. The faint smell of oregano still clinging to us both—remnants of a midnight pizza that had turned into the best meal I'd had in weeks.
My phone screamed from the nightstand.
I groaned, reaching blindly, fingers fumbling against the edge—
The phone clattered to the floor, alarm still blaring.
"Fail," Damien murmured against my hair, voice thick with sleep.
"Shut up." I wriggled toward the edge of the bed, arm dangling over the side as I patted the hardwood.
His arm tightened around my waist, dragging me back. "Leave it."
"I have a meeting."
"Cancel it."
"I can't cancel it." My fingers finally found the phone. I silenced it and squinted at the screen. 6:47 AM.
"Who's important enough to steal you from me at this hour?" His lips brushed the back of my neck, lazy and warm.
I hesitated. "Nathan."
The lips stilled, the arm around me going rigid.
"What kind of meeting?"
I turned in his arms to face him. "The first 'tutoring'"—I made air quotes—"session."
"Ah, the one you agreed to while you were pissed at me."
I kissed the bridge of his nose. "The very same."
"He better behave," Damien grumbled, more warning than joke.
I rolled my eyes. "You know he won't."
He let out a long, exasperated sigh. "I know. But he at least better keep his hands to himself."
The memory surfaced unbidden—Nathan's arm slung over my shoulder in the lobby. His palm pressed to the small of my back in the elevator.
My stomach turned.
"Hey." Damien's voice softened, his thumb brushing my cheek. "What is it?"
I shook my head, forcing a smile. "Nothing. Just not looking forward to an hour of condescension before coffee."
His eyes searched mine—not quite believing me, but not pushing either.
"If he does anything—"
