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My confusion blurred to anger. What the hell had Faye Walsh said to Emma? We’d fucked over ten years ago, for Christ’s sake. It was drunk, ancient history. A mistake, though I hadn’t given it much thought at the time. Or ever.
“I was a kid, Emma,” I placated. It didn’t seem to calm her. If anything, she looked more furious. “I was wasted every time.”
Her jaw almost hit the sidewalk. Shit. I definitely hadn’t said the right thing.
“Every time?” she shrieked.
A cab whizzed by. The driver honked his horn at a bicyclist hogging the lane. A few people turned to look, but most kept walking. It was Midtown in Manhattan, after all.
“A few times,” I said, hoping to put her qualms to rest. “Like I said, I don’t remember.”
Emma scoffed. “My opinion of this woman keeps dropping and I thought it was already at its lowest. Statutory and you were under the influence?”
Her protectiveness was one of the things I loved most about her. My family was always in my corner but having Emma at the bat was an anomaly. Like God defending Lucifer.
“It was consensual,” I explained, “but I regret it now that it’s upset you.”
Emma held the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She’d never done that before she met me. We were becoming more alike without even realizing it. The image of my dark mixing with her light both thrilled and sickened me.
“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Her eyes were still scrunched shut, but I knew by her tone of voice that her anger was waning. We were blocking foot traffic, but I didn’t care. People could step out of the damn way.
I pulled her hand from her face, stepping closer to her. “I love you too, dove.”
I leaned down for a kiss. She kept her lips snapped shut at first but melted after a bit of prodding. I parted her lips with my tongue and slid into her sweet mouth, her taste like apples and lavender. She put her hands on either side of my face, holding me to her. I let my fingers tangle in her curls, trailing them to the small of her back.
“One more thing,” Emma mumbled against my lips.
She pulled away to look me in the eye. She was so goddamn beautiful—sexy and demure all at once. Her long lashes cast shadows over her cheekbones. I wanted her in my bed. Now.
“My parents and Ella are taking over my apartment for the night,” she said. “I told them I would crash at your place, but I didn’t know you’d be home, so I didn’t think to ask.”
“Dove, you never have to ask to come over.” I peppered a kiss to her button nose. “The apartment is just as much yours as it is mine.”
She grinned with full force and I could have sworn the lights of the city brightened. The girl could devour my soul with that smile. I would do anything in my power—move mountains, slaughter villages—to keep that unabashed, euphoric look on her face.
And all it took was letting her know my apartment was hers, which I’d been trying to do for months.
Jesus, lass.
Chapter Fifteen
Emma
“Oh my God. Are those what I think they are?”
Jack chuckled, amused by my reaction. He’d stopped to pet Fiagaí, who was purring so loud I could hear it from where I stood. The house panther had missed his daddy.
Cute as Fia was, he was far out-shadowed—at least in my eyes—by the mustard-yellow box on the kitchen island. On either side of it were two glass flutes and an iced bottle of Armand de Brignac.
“Cronuts from Dominique’s?” I squealed, hopping onto the counter and pulling the box onto my lap. My nose almost orgasmed when I opened it. He’d ordered my favorite flavors—and I had at least eight.
Fia scampered down the southern hallway, content with his greeting. Jack rose from his knees, a wicked smile on his lips. “I know you live off sugar and carbs.”
“Coffee and carbs,” I corrected, unashamed as I spoke around a mouthful of the delectable treat. “But sugar is a close third.”
Jack set his hands on my bare thighs, coming to rest between them. Even from my seat on the countertop, he was taller than me. He bent down, licking the cinnamon-apple crumble from my bottom lip.
“How fitting you chose the apple one first,” he murmured.
