Page 116 of The Emma Special

“Only the best for my wife on our first date.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Is this our first date? Is that why you rang the doorbell?”

“Of course.” He gestured to the car behind him that was running with the AC on high to battle the Alabama heat. “Your chariot awaits.”

“Let me put these in water. I’ll be right back.” Emma bounced off to the kitchen with a child-like smile on her face.

James stepped just inside and closed the door behind him. “You have a nice place.”

“Oh, I know. It was a little bleh when I first moved in, but I added some warm touches,” Emma said from the other room.

He looked at the room with new eyes. Emma had given the place a warmth since she moved in. Splotches of color brightened every room. The vase of sunflowers in one corner. Unique pillowcases that rotated each week. He loved it all. His house wasn’t his anymore. It was theirs, and the upgrade was only one of the many positive changes she’d made in his life.

A minute later, she skipped past him, grabbing his hand on her way to the door. “Let’s go have fun!”

James willingly followed as a grip of emotion squeezed his heart. Emma was skipping again, and it was the answer to all of his prayers.

Emma twirled the skirt of her dress as she pushed through the front door of their home, holding her short heels in her hand. “That was amazing!”

James locked the door behind him as he followed her inside. “I have to admit, that was the most fun I’ve ever had at a fundraiser.”

The event itself hadn’t been exceptional, but getting to spend the evening standing beside Emma had been a game changer. She’d stayed close to him the whole time, cuddling up to his side, holding his hand, and surprising him with a quick kiss to his lips.

Taking cues from Emma, James had gone all-in on the physical affection. His heart still raced from sliding his hand around her waist. It wasn’t just the touch, it was the look she’d given him when he pulled her closer to his side.

His wife was maddeningly beautiful. How long did she plan to torture him? Emma tossed her shoes toward the hallway and stretched her arms above her head. She had a way of being unapologetically herself, and she made herself comfortable in any space she entered. She’d been the life of the party an hour ago, and now she was effortlessly relaxed in their home.

She lifted her long waves and turned her back to him. “Hey, Roomie, can you help me with the zipper, please?”

James stared at the light skin of the back of her neck. See? Torture. In one sentence she asked for more and kept him in his place. He cleared his throat and reached for the tab. “Of course.”

He slid the zipper down her spine, careful not to let his gaze linger too much on the smooth skin of her back and her pink bra. When the two sides of the fabric parted, she held tight to the front of the dress, keeping it from falling to the ground.

“Thanks.” She turned to face him, and the pull of exhaustion had her eyes slowly drifting open and closed. “I had a great time tonight.”

His fingers traced the line of her shoulder and down her arm. “I did too. I know you’re the reason for that. I like having you around. You’re…” He paused to look into her eyes as the truth came rushing over him. He was happy—happier than he’d ever been in his life, and it was all because Emma was beside him. “You’re my best friend.”

Emma rested her hand on his chest. “Not sure if you top the girls yet, but I like you, James. I like you a lot. More than I’ve ever liked anyone before.”

James leaned down until the side of his nose brushed against hers. She wasn’t breathing, but neither was he. The invisible string pulling them together was a force of nature, and he couldn’t fight against it.

He paused, lingering in their shared space long enough for her to protest, before his lips crashed against hers. He breathed her in as she melted in his arms. Each slow slide of her lips ignited a fire within him.

It was everything. Emma consumed him, and he drank her in. After months of resisting, the yielding was enough to burn him alive.

Emma shifted the arm pinned between them—the only thing holding up her dress.

James broke the kiss and lifted his head. Emma’s eyes were wider than a startled jackrabbit. Her shoulders rose and fell with deep, erratic breaths.

Yep. He needed to put space between them before he scared his wife. He took a step back, and she reinforced her grip on the front of her dress, her gaze drilling through his head.

Emma blinked, then morphed her expression into a weak smile. “That was… Um… That was something. Quite a way to end the night, Jamesy Boy.”

“Don’t call me that, please.” A boulder settled hard in his stomach. Jamesy Boy. The nickname she used to keep him firmly planted in the friend zone.

“Um. Okay. Sorry.” She turned her whole body to the right, then the left. “I think it’s time for bed. I mean, I think it’s time for me to go to bed. You can stay up if you want. You don’t have a bedtime or anything. I need to put myself to bed. In my own bed. Not your bed. Isn’t it cool how we have our own beds?”

James rubbed the back of his neck where his hair was standing on end. She was scrambling away from him, and he couldn’t think of anything to pause her retreat. “Emma⁠—”