The Crush (62)

Emmett’s hand slid over my jaw.

“Not yet,” he whispered, touching his thumb to my bottom lip. “Eat first.”

I curled my fingers into the cotton of his shirt. “Okay.”

Another kiss to my forehead and he pulled back to slide my chair away from the table for me.

The omelet was incredible—melted cheese and rich meat and the fresh bite of the veggies. Maybe I should be taking nutritional advice from the man with the very nice body because he was onto something.

He had me laughing with stories from his time with Parker in Ft. Lauderdale, and I told him about the craziest parties we’d done in the last few years.

His particular favorite was the Louis Vuitton-themed birthday party—for a one-year-old.

We talked about college—his and mine.

He proved to me that he could still build a perfectly stable structure using rocks and woodchips, and I wiped tears of laughter at the sight of his big frame searching around the landscaping for the right kind of stone for the foundation.

When he managed it, the small little building perfectly stable on the table in front of us, he gave me a smile so smug that I almost ripped off his shirt and tested the strength of the chair where he sat.

Not once did we talk about the fact that we were both anchored on opposite sides of the country for the bulk of the year.

We didn’t talk about Nick and the years I spent with him because nothing was to be gained by it. It was because of Nick that I knew exactly what it was like to be with someone whose life was dedicated to a sport.

It was why, at the end of the weekend, I’d have to say goodbye to him when I left for Oregon.

Emmett cleared our plates, refusing to let me help clean up. And when he returned outside, he had a plate with a single cupcake on it. The frosting was a light green, the cake white. Stuck into the top was an edible wafer in gold.

I’d moved from the table to the patio couch tucked underneath the shade of a towering fir tree. Emmett settled his big body onto the cushion next to me, and I watched him set the plate on the coffee table.

“That for me?” I asked lightly.

Emmett’s long arm stretched behind me, his fingers toying with the ends of my hair. He didn’t answer right away.

The temptation was too great, so I leaned forward and grabbed the cupcake. Carefully, I unfolded the paper and broke it into two halves. I sucked the frosting off my finger and settled back in my seat.

He was watching me with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You can have the other half,” I said, licking my lips.

He watched that too. “I didn’t bring it for me.”

I smiled. “So you’d rather sit here and watch me eat things you don’t like?”

“Yes.”

We were dancing around the rest of our night, but judging by the look in his eyes, we might not be dancing for much longer.

“Watching someone else eat dessert,” I mused. “That’s your kink?”

“It is when you do it,” he said.

I turned on the cushion, resting my bent legs on top of his thigh. He turned too, eyes unwavering, and he pushed his other hand up the side of my leg, his fingers firm and sure on my bare skin. The hem of my shorts felt flimsy and insubstantial when his fingers toyed with it.

“If it’s within my power, Adaline, I’ll always give you what you want.” His eyes locked on the place where his fingers tangled in my hair. “No matter what it is.”

It wasn’t always that way, though. And I still didn’t know what had changed. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

I wouldn’t.

Years ago, in this very house, I’d just wanted a chance for us. The thing I was thankful for, in hindsight, was that he’d never given me flowery, empty words or meaningless pleasure because he couldn’t offer anything else at that point in his life.

Did it make me weak that I couldn’t maintain the same distance with us now?

Or worse—selfish that I didn’t stop because of the pain it could cause.

Unaware of what I was struggling with, what line I was straddling in my own heart, he leaned forward and pinned me with his gaze.

“Tell me,” he commanded. “I see it in your eyes.”

“What I want,” I said quietly. I took a tiny lick of the frosting. Mint. I hummed, setting it back down onto the plate. “What I want is not to hurt you,” I told him. “I don’t want to be unfair.”

His jaw clenched. “Do you want me, though?” he asked.

My eyes closed softly.

“Adaline,” he said, a barely restrained edge to his voice. “I’m a big boy, and I knew what I was doing coming up here.”

His big hand threaded through my hair, and I hissed in a breath, a switch flipping somewhere underneath my skin.

“Do you want me?” he repeated.

In my mind, I was approaching the edge of a steep cliff. Something that had been slowly off in the distance during all those months we were apart. One more step and I’d tumble into a wild free fall.

I knew he’d catch me. It didn’t lessen the fact that I was scared of what came next. But it did force me to be honest. I’d never get this moment back with Emmett, and I didn’t want to waste it, no matter how scary it was to fall.

I hardly lifted my chin in a nod, and he surged forward, stealing my mouth in a ferocious kiss.