The Crush (31)

“There she is,” Poppy cried. She had the flushed, happy smile of someone who’d had a couple of drinks. Standing from her Adirondack chair, she flung her arms around me. I laughed at her exuberant greeting. “How was your nap?” she asked.

A snippet of my dream flashed hot through my brain, our intertwined hands sliding under his shorts, and before I could stop myself, my gaze snapped to Emmett’s.

Whatever he saw on my face, it had his brow furrowing thoughtfully.

“Fine,” I managed.

“Cameron has beer and margaritas in the cooler,” she said. Greer had one in her hand, so did Cameron. Parker and Emmett, the inhuman physical specimens they were, had bottles of water.

I thought about what Emmett had said about being a perfect gentleman if he knew I’d had a single drink. Without thinking too deeply about it, I shook my head.

“I’m going for a sugar buzz only tonight,” I answered, snatching the open bag of marshmallows from the small circular table next to the bench where Emmett sat. The only free spot around the fire was right next to him.

Naturally.

And he was a man who took up a whole lot of space on that two-person bench.

When I settled onto the wide plank seat, his shoulder brushed against mine, his thigh warm and solid when our knees settled against each other.

He didn’t move.

Neither did I.

Wordlessly, he handed me the roasting stick, and I popped two marshmallows onto the end. But my arm wasn’t quite long enough to reach the perfect, bright orange coals along the edges of the fire. I frowned.

Emmett nudged my shoulder, wrapping his big hand around mine to relieve me of the stick.

“Allow me,” he said.

I watched with keen interest as he set about finding the perfect angle, settling the roasting stick along the edge of the bonfire pit so that the marshmallow was the exact distance away from the coals to keep it from bursting into flames.

“You exceptional at this too?” I teased.

“Watch and find out.”

The words were so close to what I’d heard in my dream, a dark whispered command in his deep voice, that I shivered.

He glanced over at me. “You cold?”

I blew out a slow breath. “Not particularly.”

Emmett swallowed, his eyes darting briefly to the V of my shirt, and my lips curled in a slight smile when the tips of his cheekbones bloomed pink.

“Whatcha looking at?” I whispered.

His eyebrow quirked. Emmett might’ve blushed at getting caught, but the way he was looking now, he wanted me to know. “I’m looking at you,” he said.

Something was different tonight, in the dusk around the fire.

After my nap, full of fevered dreams in snippets that I couldn’t quite piece together, I decided that I liked it.

I quirked mine right back. “Don’t burn my marshmallow. I’ll be very cranky.”

With a slight shake of his head, he shifted his focus back to the fire. “Whatever my lady asks for,” he murmured, his eyes staying on the slow turn of the marshmallow, “she shall get.”

All over again, it was like we were dancing at the ball. It held that same snap of tension, that razor-sharp edge of desire to every look, every movement.

Only this time, as we circled each other slowly with our words, we knew exactly who the other person was. And that made for a delicious burn under my skin.

“Whatever I ask for?” I asked lightly.

Earlier, something held me back, a muzzle around my heart set in place by my cautious brain.

It was gone now. Swept away like smoke.

Across the circle, Greer watched with a shit-eating grin on her face. She tapped something on her phone, and mine buzzed.

I slid it out of my pocket.

Greer: OMG just DO HIM already. If I have to watch much more of this, I’m going to scream from the wasted sexual tension.

Me: Do you know how many years it’s been since I’ve had flirting this good? A hundred. That’s how many.

Me: He’s here for another night. Who’s wasting anything?

Greer: Check your sources, sister. He was on his phone while you were napping. He has to go back to Florida tomorrow for some meeting.

In my dream, there’d been no ground under my feet while I balanced on the swing, and that’s just about how I felt reading Greer’s text. Everything steady and certain bottomed out, and what I thought were small steps that we might be able to do something with over the weekend suddenly felt like a jumping-off point. Like when you’re little and someone shoves you onto the big diving board.

I didn’t want Emmett to leave after one night. The thought was so clear, breaking past all the confusion I felt when it came to him. I didn’t want him to leave. Yet there was nothing I could do to make him stay. Our break from reality had an end point, and my mouth went a little dry at the realization.

Shifting on the bench to angle toward him, I studied the sharp lines of his profile. His tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip, and I exhaled in a rough burst.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” I asked, quietly enough that no one else could hear me.

His jaw clenched. I wanted to lick him right there, feel the bunch of muscle underneath my mouth.

“Yeah. I had an unplanned meeting with ownership come up.”

“Ahh. The burden of leading the team.”