Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(21)

“Yoga is great for relaxing,” Jenna admitted. “But sex is better. Much, much better.”

Jenna didn’t need to tell me that, though it had been a long time since I’d had sex half as satisfying as a single kiss from Emerson had been.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to talk or think about it for the next hour, as we sweated and stretched next to each other. By the time class was over, I was more than ready for a mimosa. And to talk about anything but Emerson.

Unfortunately, Emerson was the only thing that Jenna and Kelsey wanted to talk about.

“You should find out his birthday,” Jenna told me as we sat down to brunch. “That way I can get his horoscope and see if you guys are compatible before it goes too far.”

“It’s not going any further than it already has,” I argued. “Besides, he’s not my type.”

Kelsey gave me a look. “Since when is tall, dark, and handsome not your type? He’s gorgeous—he’s everyone’s type!”

“I don’t have time to date,” I tried. “Work is crazy right now, you both know that.”

“There’s always time for sex,” Jenna suggested. “Just use him to get your stress levels down. That will be good for work.”

I sighed and put my head on the table.

“Your aura is very stressed,” Jenna noted.

“You should definitely sleep with him,” Kelsey added.

I ignored both of them and ordered another mimosa.



Hours later, I headed home. There was still a steady flow of noise and construction coming out of Rascals, which was my excuse for pausing in front of the building. Then, before I could think of a good excuse not to, I headed inside.

I found Emerson in his office, head bowed over stacks of paperwork, exactly what I should have been doing at the moment. But instead, I stood there, mesmerized by the sight of him working. It was hot. But then again, I found everything he did to be hot, so why should it be a surprise that I was getting all tingly and bothered over the sight of him crunching numbers?

I rapped my knuckles on the door jamb. He glanced up, and a slow, sexy smile spread over his handsome face.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” I commented, realizing that I probably should have showered before coming to see him. After all, I was wearing my yoga gear and my hair was up in a messy ponytail. Not exactly my best look.

But Emerson didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to be mentally undressing me much in the same way he had done last night when I had been wearing my black dress. Again, I had the sudden impulse to tell him what color underwear I was wearing. A blue thong this time.

“I just wanted to stop by and thank you again for last night.” I came over to his desk.

“What part of last night?” he asked, showing me that dimple of his.

I blushed. “All of it,” I admitted. “Though the last part was pretty great.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It really was.”

“Too bad you had to go,” I said, unable to believe the flirtatious words that were coming out of my mouth. What was I doing? Hadn’t I just spent the last several hours detailing to Kelsey and Jenna all the reasons nothing could happen between me and Emerson?

“I really wanted to stay.” Emerson stood, his hands flat on the desk. “You were very, very tempting.”

“But you were a gentleman,” I stated.

“Spent the rest of the night wishing I wasn’t,” he told me.

My skin got hot. “Yeah?” I asked, my voice low and husky.

“Spent a long time in a cold shower wishing I wasn’t,” he said, sending a thrill through me.

I imagined him in the shower. It was a good image. A really good image.

“I don’t take advantage of someone who’s had too much to drink,” he told me, leaning across the desk. “I prefer a woman who knows what she wants. Who can tell me what she wants. In great detail.”

That was the problem, though. I didn’t know what I wanted. I wanted him, but I also knew that it would be a bad idea.

Reality check, Alex. What happened to being too busy to be distracted?

Eyes on the prize.

The non-Hot Guy prize.

I backed away from his desk.

“I should go,” I told him.

He nodded, disappointment flickering over his features.

Then, before I could change my mind, I turned and walked out of his office.





9





Emerson





My lungs were burning, my muscles ached, and I wanted to pass out. Dante, on the other hand, looked as if he had just stepped onto the mat, despite the fact that we had been sparring for almost an hour.

“You’re a beast,” I wheezed as Dante crossed his arms and gave me one of his signature “don’t be a pussy” looks.

“You’re out of shape,” he commented, throwing a clean towel at me.

“I’ve been busy,” I reminded him. “Managing our bar.”

Dante shrugged. Out of the five of us, he had been the most reluctant to invest in Rascals. I got it—he also came from the most unstable background out of all of us, and money was not something he parted with easily. Not even to friends.

“You should come check it out,” I told him, mopping the sweat from my brow.