Praise (Salacious Players Club, #1)(25)

A deliciously handsome grin stretches across his cheeks. “I’d pay to see that.”

“You don’t have to. Every Saturday night at seven-thirty. The black lights come on. We even sell glow sticks, if you’d like to take it up a notch.”

“Oh really? I’m not quite versed in roller skating culture. Do you think I’m ready for glow sticks?”

He’s teasing me, and I don’t even realize until this moment that he’s still holding my hand in his. Or rather, we’re just holding hands since he’s relaxed his grip.

But I don’t let that distract me as I lean in, teasing him as much as he’s teasing me. “How would you know if you don’t try it? I think you could handle glow sticks. It’s the Electric Slide you should probably work your way up to.”

“You’ll do it with me, so I’m not alone, right?”

I smile, biting the corner of my lip. And because it feels right, I lean forward and grin. “Oh, baby, you won’t know what hit you when you Electric Slide with me.”

It’s funny. We’re laughing, and it’s playful and innocent and fine…until it’s not. Until the laughter fades, and we’re left in the dust of whatever flirtatious thing this was. His eyes are on my face, and mine are on his. Our hands are still linked on the desk.

He swallows, and I swallow.

And I want so badly to kiss him. Just to see if I would even like it or if it would be too strange. And to see if these weird feelings in my body are what I think they are. If I’m really growing attached to Emerson in a sexual way or if it’s just my imagination getting away with itself.

His fingers squeeze my hand, one finger gently stroking my palm, and it’s like a scream. It’s so subtle, naked to the eye, but I feel it, and it’s telling me to lean forward, so I do.

Then he leans forward.

And when I feel his breath on my lips, my body cries for me to kiss him. Close the distance. While my brain has alarms going off, red flags and sirens blaring. No, no, no, no! This is Beau’s dad—his freaking dad, Charlie. What are you doing? You can’t kiss him! Because then what? After you kiss him, what if he wants more? Are you going to let him take your clothes off? Have sex with him?

Okay, that sounds both terrifying and amazing.

But then what? You can’t stay in this job after you’ve fucked him. You’ll get emotionally attached and maybe you’ll sleep together a couple more times, if you like it, and then he’ll move on, and you’ll be devastated.

And my rational mind has a point. This is a terrible idea, but his lips are already brushing mine, and it’s too late to back out now. It’s a soft touch, barely even a kiss, but the moment our lips graze each other, we slide into an intimate space where only we exist, and it’s so delicate that I don’t dare to move.

His hand slides up my arm and he leans in to deepen the kiss, but before he can, the phone rings.

Compared to the silence we’re in, it sounds like a machine gun going off right next to us. I gasp, pulling away in a rush. I don’t stop, jumping up from the chair and walking briskly across the room.

The ringing stops, and I turn to see he’s silenced the call. His eyes are on me, watching me with concern.

“Charlotte,” he calls with that authoritative tone. “What’s wrong? Come sit down.”

“That was stupid of me. I’m sorry. I got carried away. It was just the heat of the moment, I guess. I don’t know—”

“Charlotte,” he barks

“I should go. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t go,” he calls, but I’m already to the foyer, grabbing my jacket from the closet and my purse from the bench. When I spin around again, he’s only a foot away.

“I’m really sorry. I’m so embarrassed.” My hands fly up to my face, and my cheeks are hot against my hands. And everything just comes barreling to the forefront of my mind.

I kissed Beau’s dad. My boss. Beau’s dad. A forty-year-old man.

His touch is soft against my wrists as he nudges my hands from my face.

“Are you okay?”

“No!” I shriek.

“Why?”

“Because…” My eyes widen.

“Because we kissed.”

“Oh my God,” I cry out, trying to cover my face again.

“Charlotte, calm down.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t leave. Sit down.”

He leads me to the formal living room at the front of the house with large bay windows that face the quiet neighborhood. His comforting hand is at the small of my back again, and I relax into the secure way it makes me feel.

It’s quiet for so long before he finally speaks. “I think you were right. We just got carried away in the moment, which was not your fault.”

There’s a but hanging on the end of his sentence and I’m sort of dreading it. As much as I hate the idea of kissing him again, I also sort of…love the idea of kissing him again. Which is so, so wrong. And most of all, I don’t want him turning me down. It hurts to even think about.

“But the two of us getting involved with each other physically is a very bad idea.”

“I agree,” I stammer, unable to meet his eyes.