by Ember Dante
“I’ll admit, I’m afraid,” I sighed. “I’m afraid of how much I like him already. I’m afraid this will turn into something real. I’m afraid that I’ll fall in love with him and he’ll break my heart.” I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can go through that again.”
“Any relationship brings risks. There’s always the possibility of getting hurt.”
“I’m also afraid that maybe this is happening a little too fast.”
“Love doesn’t have a time frame.”
“I didn’t say I love him.”
“I didn’t say you did, but I see it coming. It’s obvious you really like him. Hell, you just met the guy last week and spent one night with him. You’ve run into him several times since then, and now you’re about to spend an entire weekend with him. Not to mention the fact that you just spent a shit ton of money on one outfit to wear on a date with him. That is not a ‘casual’ relationship.”
Jules made a valid point, but something still nagged at me. “Okay. What about the half-naked models?”
“What about them? It’s his job. I’m sure those models don’t do a thing for him.”
“It only takes one,” I pouted, knowing I sounded childish.
“I’m going to punch you in the face if you don’t stop. Just stop. You are a beautiful, intelligent woman, Emmy. Yes, what Brett did to you was horrible and heartbreaking, but it’s time to move on. You have let him tear down your self-esteem long enough. I have stayed out of it and let you deal with things in your own time, in your own way, but this is getting ridiculous.” She pointed a finger at me, emphasizing her words. “You are letting your fears control your life. I understand where you’re coming from, but enough is enough. I love you and want you to be happy, but if you continue like this, you are going to end up miserable and alone, wondering ‘what if’ for the rest of your life. Ian has done nothing to make you believe he’s anything like Brett. Give the poor guy a chance, and see where this goes before you write him off as another asshole. Otherwise, you’re going to fuck this up, and some other bitch is going to wind up with him and you’ll wake up every day filled with regret.” She gave me a stern look, daring me to disagree. “Chew on that for a few minutes. I have to pee.”
I was stunned by her rather heated argument. In her absence, I pondered everything she said. She was right. I had been holding on too tightly to the past, allowing Brett to dictate my life—and my happiness—and that pissed me off. I really liked Ian, and the idea of him ending up with someone else was unsettling. Actually, it chapped my ass.
“Well? What did you decide?” asked Jules as she slid into her side of the booth. She arched an eyebrow and took a sip of her margarita. “Are you going to join a convent or are you going to continue having hot, wild monkey sex with Ian?”
My laugh was genuine. It was something I hadn’t done often enough. “I vote for monkey sex.”
Jules winked before draining the last of her drink. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
8
Ian
Emmy arrived shortly after five o’clock, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her. The first item on the to-do list was to drag her into the shower. That was her idea, actually. Who was I to argue?
After a thorough shower, she perched on the edge of the bed and dried her hair with a towel. Her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her top, pulling at the slender straps running over her shoulders. My eyes were glued to their movement as they swayed with the motion of her arms. I forced myself to focus on the wall behind her so I wouldn’t tackle her to the bed.
“Are you ready for a glass of wine?” I asked, pulling a shirt over my head.
“God, yes.”
My gaze dipped to her breasts again, and my dick began to stir. I gave myself a mental kick in the ass for letting my little head overrule the one above my shoulders. “Is red okay with you? We drank all the white, and I didn’t make it back to the store today.”
“Oh yeah.” She lowered the towel and gave me a wide grin. “Red is fine. I’m almost finished with my hair.”
“Take your time.”
She gave me another smile that made my heart clench and returned to her chore. I retreated to the kitchen, marveling at how quickly she’d gotten under my skin. She joined me a few minutes later and wrapped her arms around me from behind. I could tell she thought I was oblivious to her presence, but nothing could have been further from the truth. The thin cotton separating us wasn’t enough of a barrier to distract me from the pressure of her distended nipples pressed against my back, though I tried my best to concentrate on the wine.
Her hands roamed over me, smoothing my shirt, while I fit the corkscrew over the bottle and tried to pretend her touch didn’t affect me. Warmth soaked through my clothes with their movement until they settled on my dick and started stroking me over my shorts. She was making it hard to concentrate. Yeah, that wasn’t all that was getting hard. If she didn’t stop soon, I was going to fuck her on the floor.
I took a deep breath to steady myself and retrieved two glasses from the cabinet in front of me and filled both without spilling a drop, which was a fucking miracle. I set the bottle on the granite surface as gently as possible before grabbing her wrists to stop her. In one smooth motion, I spun around and lifted her onto the opposite counter. She dropped her chin to hide her reaction, but I could still see the bright flush coloring her face.
“Hey. Look at me, Emmy.”
She shook her head, keeping her eyes pointed down. My hands cupped her jaw and tilted her head, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“Baby, you have no idea what your touch does to me. But I don’t want this”—I waved a finger between us—“to only be about sex. I want us to get to know each other.” I leaned in for a kiss and stroked her cheeks with my thumbs. “So what do you say we just relax and see what happens?”
“Deal.” She gave me an enthusiastic nod and threw her arms around my neck.
I returned her hug and lowered her to her feet before handing her both glasses of wine.
“Netflix is ready to go, so why don’t you relax and pick a movie? I’ll order the pizza. What do you like?”
“Pepperoni works for me. Anything but anchovies, actually.” She shrugged. “Whatever.”
Her choice surprised me. Most of the girls I’d been with always preferred veggie pizzas or worse—pineapple. Why ruin a perfectly good pizza? I mean, the whole point of eating it wasn’t to be healthy.
I’d no sooner ended the call placing our order when it rang again.
“Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
Emmy glanced my way with a mixture of concern and curiosity on her face. I winked at her and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” She smiled and turned her attention to the television.
“I’m just calling about lunch tomorrow. Can you make it?” asked Mom, her voice deliberately bland.
Fuck. I’d almost forgotten it was Mother’s Day. At least I didn’t forget to buy her a gift earlier in the week.
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I sighed.
“I know spending the afternoon with your father isn’t high on your list of priorities, but I would dearly love to see you.”
That was the understatement of the century. Spending time around Connor Walsh didn’t even make the list. I only did it for Mom.
“I guess I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?” I teased.
“I know you’ve been busy, sweet. It’s fine,” she replied. “Have you talked to Finn lately?”
My skin prickled from the unease in her voice. “No. It’s been about a week or so. Why?”
“There’s something going on with him, and he won’t tell me what it is. I know he won’t talk about it in front of your father, so I thought...”
That unease I sensed gave way to aggravation. She was being nosy. “You want me to call him?” I laughed.
“Would you?” she asked, a hopeful lilt in her voice.
“He’s an adult, you know. He’ll talk about whatever it is
when he’s ready.”
“You are still my children,” she huffed. “And I worry about you. I always will, regardless of how old you are.”
I sighed. “I’ll call him and make sure he’s okay. I’m sure he's fine.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.” She paused, letting the silence stretch between us. “Ahem, one more thing, honey. Connor is playing a round of golf in the morning, so we’ll be starting at two.”
The subtext of that comment was not to be late. Fucking Connor.
“I’ll be on time.”
“Okay, sweet. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I joined Emmy on the sofa and rested an arm across her shoulders. “Sorry about that. I need to call my brother, but it will only take a minute. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all.”
My free hand caressed her bare arm while I waited for Finn to pick up.
“Bro.” He laughed, knowing I hated when he called me that.
I shoved aside my irritation and got to the point. “Hey, man, what’s up? I just talked to Mom.”
“I told her everything is fine,” he growled. “She’s just being a nosy biddy.”
“Not cool, dude.” My carefree tone morphed into a warning. “She’s just worried about you. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. I’ll handle it. It’s no big deal.”
“I know,” he sighed. “I just don’t feel the need to tell her everything I do.”
“I understand. I’m sure she doesn’t expect that, but it freaks her out when you clam up and refuse to talk to her. You know why.”
“I’m not that person anymore,” he grumbled.
“I know that. So does she. But she’s still our mother.” I took a deep breath and let it out. “Look, I only called to check in because she asked me to. If you tell me you’re fine, I believe you.”
“I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of this.” There was a slight pause. “I’ve been seeing someone. We’ve been together about a month.”
“Really? That’s awesome.”
“I’d like you to meet him sometime.”
“I’d love to.”
“I really like him. He’s a great guy. I guess...” He released a ragged breath. “I guess I didn’t want to jinx it by talking about him yet.”
“Don’t worry. I get it.”
“Thanks, Ian.” There was some muffled conversation on the other end. “Can we talk tomorrow?”
“Sure. See you tomorrow.”
“Later.”
I tossed the phone on the coffee table and relaxed against Emmy. She leaned into me and threaded her fingers through mine, unknowingly soothing my nerves after the brief conversation with Finn. I wouldn’t have thought anything of his lack of communication, but the concern in Mom’s voice brought old memories to the surface. Finn was right—he wasn’t that person anymore, but would that still be true if his new relationship ended badly?
“Is everything okay?” asked Emmy, her sweet voice pulling me from my jumbled thoughts. Hmph. Maybe I was more transparent than I thought.
“Yeah.” I smiled, then kissed her on the temple. “Finn wants me to meet his new boyfriend.”
“Your brother is gay?”
I nodded and squeezed her fingers.
“That explains why you were so great with Tyler.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that most of the guys I’ve dated have treated him like shit once they knew. My ex was the worst.” She stretched and kissed my cheek. “I think you’re a great guy.”
I tightened my arm around her and kissed the tip of her nose. “I think you’re giving me more credit than I deserve, but thank you.” I tilted my head toward the television. “What movie do you want to watch?”
“Are you okay with Fifty Shades of Grey?”
“Sure.” I laughed. “Whatever you want, babe.”
The warmth of the sun’s rays was a welcome respite from the recent rain but did nothing to improve my mood. Truth be told, that soured the moment Emmy walked out my door. We may have had an unconventional start, but even in the short time I’d known her, I wanted more. She opened my eyes to a possible future, one I’d never considered for myself. I’d fought against that so long, due in large part to pressure from my father to live life on his terms, but everything seemed so natural and relaxed between us, and I found myself opening up to her in ways I never had before. For example, I never would have allowed a woman to sleep over one night let alone two. There was something about her that was changing me.
After the pizza and two bottles of wine, I wasn’t surprised she fell asleep during the movie. It was pretty lame, after all. I almost fell asleep myself, except I got caught up watching her and didn’t want to miss a single moment—the way her lashes fluttered against her cheekbones while her eyes twitched beneath the lids with her dreams. Her pouty lips were parted slightly, her breath blowing lightly across my knuckles as she clutched my arm between her breasts, trapping me. She never stirred, not even when I carried her to bed. I thought I woke her when I climbed in behind her, but she merely turned over, as if seeking me out, and curled herself around me. I was pleasantly surprised to find her in the same position when I woke. I could get used to waking up beside her every day.
My thoughts turned from Emmy to the uncomfortable afternoon ahead when I’d arrived at my parents’ home located in the affluent Highland Park area of Dallas. The house was a massive limestone Norman French structure on a tree-covered lot that occupied half the entire block. On second thought, ‘occupied’ didn’t seem to suffice when describing its presence. Maybe ‘consumed’ was more appropriate. Size mattered to my father, so everything had to be bigger and better than what everyone else had.
I slowed to a stop behind Finn’s silver RAV-4. The new Lexus RX-350 Mason just bought his wife, Bailey, was parked in front of him in the shade of a giant oak tree. I smirked at the memory of Mason’s reaction when she requested that particular vehicle. They were expecting their first child, so the SUV made sense, but in Mason’s eyes, it was barely a step up from the stereotypical soccer mom mini-van. It was unfortunate that he inherited that particular elitist attitude from our father. Otherwise, he was a pretty cool guy.
I sighed and grabbed the gift bag from the passenger seat before slowly pulling myself from my vehicle. Walking into my parents’ home always felt like I was walking to my own execution. I couldn’t remember a single time when all of us being together as a family had been an enjoyable experience. Perhaps Mason and Bailey’s wedding, but that was about it.
The front door was unlocked, as usual, and I followed the sound of my father’s voice emanating from the living room. He always did enjoy listening to himself talk.
I entered the room, and it was like stepping back in time. Nothing had changed in the nine years they’d lived there. Their home in Austin was the same: dark paneling, Oriental rugs, and lux furnishings—Connor’s taste, what he perceived to be symbols of wealth. If allowed, Mom would have brightened up that tomb and breathed some life into the place. But no. Things always had to be his way, from the cars they drove to the interior decorating. Status was always more important than family.
Everything was so stiff and formal that my brothers, dressed casually in simple polo shirts and jeans, looked as out of place as I felt. Relief flooded Finn’s face when he saw me. Mason and Bailey were settled on the overstuffed leather sofa with their heads together, giggling over something—probably their unborn baby.
A brief pang of jealousy twisted in my chest as I watched them. My thoughts returned to Emmy, and whether or not that could ever be us. Focusing on my current predicament, I nodded in greeting, knowing it was required to be acknowledged by Connor before speaking to anyone else. He seemed oblivious to my arrival, but I would be a fool to make that assumption. Connor Walsh never missed a thing. I used to swear the man had eyes in the back of his head.
Proving my point, he turned just as I reached him. Yep. Eyes in the back of
his damn head. He gave me an appraising look, his gaze raking over me from head to toe, his hand extended for the expected handshake. I offered mine in return, obliged to play along with our ridiculous farce. His grip was like iron—not exactly painful, but strong enough I couldn’t free my hand.
“Cillian. I see you still haven’t bothered to shave.”
The formal use of my full name and his dig about my grooming habits pissed me off, but I bit back the retort poised on my tongue. I scrutinized his appearance as well and couldn’t find a single fault—other than it was too perfect. There wasn’t a hair out of place, combed into the stereotypical conservative businessman’s cut. Finn and I used to joke that it wasn’t real hair, that it was actually plastic because we never saw it in disarray—ever. There were a few sprinkles of gray here and there, one of the few signs of his advancing years. He was clean-shaven, of course, something else we joked about. We never saw him with a shadow, either. I once tried to convince Finn that Dad was really a robot due to his pristine appearance and emotionless demeanor.
“Dad.” The word stuck in my throat, but I wasn’t such a shit that I’d make trouble for Mom by addressing him by his given name.
“Well, no matter. I’m sure your mother won’t mind. She’s in the kitchen. You should go say hello.”
I gave him a wan smile and followed the same script we’d been using my entire life. That he felt the need to direct my actions was just another sick game, his way of maintaining control, and if I ever greeted Mom first, I’d never hear the end of it because he’s that selfish an asshole.
“I suppose I should.”
He released me with a look of smug satisfaction on his face. I turned to greet my brothers, heading to Mason first. I leaned over to give Bailey a quick hug and kiss. Her green eyes sparkled, matching her wide smile as her hand stroked her expanding stomach.