Collide (Collide, #1)(29)

Nervously biting her lip, she followed suit and made her way into the room where Dillon lay sleeping.

Still snoring.

As she closed the doors behind her, Emily leaned herself against them, panicky and once again breathless. Sliding her fingers down her neck, she tried to rationalize the visceral pull that Gavin had over her, but she was too tired at that point to even begin to understand it.





Chapter Six


Fireworks





A knock against the door and a low groan from Dillon registered somewhere in the back of Emily’s sleeping brain. Forcing one eye open, she was able to make out Trevor poking his head into the room.

“Fuck,” Dillon shouted gruffly. “What the hell time is it?”

“It’s time to get our fishing on,” Trevor answered a little too cheerfully.

Dillon ran a palm over his face, shot Trevor a hard look, and lifted his head gingerly in Emily’s direction. “Are you getting up?”

Peering at the clock through hooded lids to see it was only seven, Emily curled the duvet cover tightly around her body. “No…I’m not,” she moaned out and rolled over. “Just get in the shower, and I’ll get up in a while.”

Cursing in frustration from the early morning wake up, Dillon slid from the bed and reluctantly padded to the bathroom.

Emily heard the door snap shut with Trevor’s departure. Sunlight filtering into the room in stages threatened to wake her further as she nuzzled herself cozily into the crook of her arm. With a deep breath, her nose inhaled the heavenly intoxicating, mind-numbing smell that was Gavin as she tried to fall back to sleep.

Gavin? What the?

Realizing she was still wearing his sweatshirt, she shot straight up in a sitting position. In half a heartbeat, she yanked it off, jumped from the bed, and haphazardly shoved it into a nightstand drawer.

With trembling fingers, she rubbed her eyes and tried to rid her mind of what Dillon’s reaction would’ve been had he caught her packaged neatly in his friend’s sweatshirt. After a few minutes, the unexpected anxiety that made her heart race began to ebb, and with a sigh, she settled into the bed, but found she was unable to fall back to sleep.

Still groaning in agonized distress, Dillon came out of the bathroom. Emily could see he looked tired, pale, and haggard. After she tried to soothe him with a massage, she dropped a kiss on his cheek and decided to jump in the shower, too. When she re-emerged, she found him sprawled out on the bed in a T-shirt and cargo shorts with the crease of his elbow shading his eyes.

“What are your plans while I’m fishing?” he asked, his voice low and garbled.

“I’m going to hang with Liv and Tina until they leave,” she replied, plugging her hair dryer into an outlet. “They’re heading back to the city later to spend the day at Tina’s family’s house.”

Letting out a grumble from the back of his throat, he stood up on shaky legs and sauntered out of the room. By the time Emily treaded downstairs, it was a quarter past eight. Dillon was sitting at the kitchen island with his head hidden between his folded arms as he mumbled to himself.

Gavin smiled at Emily over his newspaper. As it did every time she walked into a room, his whole body went on alert. He felt his blood begin to pump faster as she made her way to the kitchen island. The silky white material of her sundress gliding along her thighs and contrasting against her perfectly olive-toned skin made him nearly speechless.

Gavin cleared his throat. “He’s making promises of never allowing whiskey into his system again if the drinking gods help him get through the day,” he laughed and took a sip of his coffee. “He was never one to handle his liquor that well.”

Although muffled from his arms, the words were clear and to the point. “Fuck off, Gavin,” Dillon hissed.

Gavin chuckled and looked over to Emily. “Want some coffee?”

“Yeah, that sounds awesome. Thank you,” she laughed and took a seat next to Dillon.

“You’re very welcome.” Gavin stood up, pulled a mug from a cabinet, poured some coffee in it, and made his way to the refrigerator. Peering at Emily over his shoulder, his smile was soft and curled with knowledge. “Just a guess, of course, but you look like a girl who takes cream and sugar in your coffee.”

Her mouth fell open and then snapped shut. Shaking her head, she smiled at him.

Gavin quirked a mischievous brow and walked back over with the mug. As she went to take it from him, he reached out for her hand and gently slipped something into it.

Her eyes flicked over to Dillon where he was still hiding from the light of day.

Gavin set the coffee in front of her and took his seat.

Opening the palm of her hand, Emily glanced down to what she was holding—a bottle cap. Her gaze slid over to Gavin where he sat casually sipping his coffee, newspaper in hand, with a faint smile on his lips.

She shook her head and smiled back.

Dillon straightened and quickly turned around at the sound of the doorbell chiming. He groaned out as Gavin made his way over to answer it. When he opened it, Emily watched him greet two men, both appearing to be Gavin’s relatives. The younger of the two was good looking with the same sharp-chiseled features and hair color but had a body slightly heavier than Gavin. The senior, however, was Gavin’s twin—fast-forward twenty years—with a hint of silver hues sprinkled throughout his hair. His wide grin flashed with practiced ease as they all walked into the kitchen.