Stay(18)

Pushing off the door, I motion for her to enter. “I’ll walk you up to your door.”

“There’s really no need—”

“Don’t start with that again. Your neighborhood is sketchy as fuck.”

Shaking her head, she laughs. “It’s really not. The West Village is way sketchier.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

The door closes behind us with a slam, and our feet make short scuffing noises as we climb the square-shaped flights of stairs.

“Didn’t an apartment building explode around here a few years back?”

She stops ahead of me on the stairs and turns, looking down. “Someone had hacked into the gas line of the restaurant below. It wasn’t a reflection of building safety in the neighborhood.”

I take a step up, changing our perspective so now I’m looking down at her. “If that isn’t a reflection on building safety, I don’t know what is. Do you have renter’s insurance?”

Her eyebrows rise, and she starts climbing again. A low growl rumbles from my throat, and she actually laughs. “You sound like Ethan.”

“Renter’s insurance is shockingly affordable and pretty easy to secure.”

We’re at the door and she stops outside, looking up at me. “Thanks, Dad.”

Leaning closer, I pin her under my arm again. “I liked your dad. He would’ve agreed with me.”

“I like my apartment. Stop bossing me around.” She turns under my arm, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

I step inside behind her and close the door, leaning my back against it, watching as she goes to the tiny closet and puts her purse inside. She toes off her boots, making her even shorter in bare feet.

Then she faces me, one hand on her hip and the other motioning around the room. “See? It’s nice. Don’t you think?”

I glance to the kitchen, to her bedroom. She’s waiting for me to say something. “You keep it very clean.”

Shaking her head she walks to the near-empty refrigerator and opens it. “I’d offer you a drink, but I need to go to the store.”

“I don’t want a drink.” I’m watching her, wondering what to do with these feelings twisting in my stomach.

I want her.

She stands across the room looking at me, and a quiet extends between us. We’ve spoken nonstop since our paths crossed. She says I’m not her friend. She says I’m not her hero, but there’s no denying the pull between us.

Her blue eyes capture mine, sparkling and warm. Her shoulders have teased me all night, soft and shapely. I want to touch them, kiss them… bite them. Her breasts are hidden in the drape of that dress, but I remember them, small, bouncing with every thrust of my hips.

When I meet her gaze again, her expression has darkened. “Stop looking at me that way.”

“Tell me to leave.” Pushing off the door, I take a step closer, closing the distance between us.

“I don’t like you.” Her voice goes softer.

I take another step closer. “It feels like you do.” Reaching out, I touch her shoulder with the backs of my fingernails. It rises automatically, and chills skate down her arm. “I think you feel the same thing I feel.”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly. Her breathing comes faster. “I don’t feel anything for you.”

Our eyes meet again, and I lean closer. “Then tell me to go.”

Her lips part, and her pink tongue darts out to touch her bottom one. I inhale slowly, fresh flowers and soap. Placing my hand on her shoulder, I slide a lock of her silky blonde hair back and forth between my fingers.

“I don’t want to go.” Releasing her hair, I straighten, moving away. “But I won’t stay unless you want me to.”

Her eyes don’t leave mine. “I don’t want you to.”

Nodding, I start to leave when her hand grasps my wrist. I stop moving when she steps closer, rising onto her tiptoes. Her breasts graze my chest.

Her face tilts higher, and our eyes meet as she whispers. “This isn’t happening.”

It’s the last words she speaks before our mouths collide.





7





Emmy


Stephen’s kiss intoxicates me. No one kisses me the way he does, and I want it. I’ve wanted it since he walked through that door. He pushes my mouth open and nips my upper lip before seeking out my tongue with his. Then he pulls my bottom lip between his. He devours me. Heat burns between my thighs, and wetness slips in my pussy.

“I can’t do this.” I gasp, holding his neck, and trying to get my bearings.

“Decide.” He growls before sucking my tongue into his mouth.

I feel his cock against my thigh, hard and long and so thick. I remember him so well. Oh, fuck, I want to climb him like a tree.

His large hands are on my ass, gathering my dress into his fists until he finds my skin. His fingers trace the line of my thong. If he touches my clit, I’ll come at once…

I’m holding his shoulders, when he cups my ass and carries me to the tiny table in my itty-bitty kitchen. He sits me down, standing between my thighs, leaning closer to ravage my mouth again.

My lips chase his, my tongue curls with his, my fingernails rake through the scruff on his cheeks, into his hair. I moan when he palms my breasts through my dress. I can’t stop making little sounds. It’s been so long since I’ve had good sex. Since I’ve had him.