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She gave me a curious look, but it was our turn to order. She told the man behind the booth that she wanted a bomb pop. I followed suit, handing the vendor a twenty. Before he could reach for change, I tugged Emma aside.
“Eoghan is a good friend,” she said, walking ahead of me.
I jogged to catch up, popsicle in hand. “He wants to be more than friends.”
Emma licked her bomb pop and my mind was suddenly filled with images of her mouth on me—sucking, licking, fondling. I had a semi in the middle of the park.
She scrunched her nose, oblivious. “I’m not his type.”
“You’re everyone’s type,” I argued, unable to hide my jealousy any longer. She was dynamite on legs. Sweet smile, inviting eyes, killer body. And the way she was licking her popsicle, her lacy pink getup strapped against her chest, made me want to howl in frustration.
Emma angled her head toward me. Her cheeks hollowed as she slid the ice from her mouth with an audible pop. She looked to the side, licking her pink lips.
“Are you doing that on purpose?” I demanded, my voice husky.
She smirked, licking at a stream of syrup sliding down the stick. “Doing what?”
I couldn’t stifle my groan. I also couldn’t control what came out of my mouth next. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to have to get on your knees and suck me off in the middle of the goddamn park.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“Jesus, Emma!” I yelled, exasperated. I couldn’t pin down her mood. It was torture not to see her expression behind those sunglasses. Was she doing it on purpose? Hiding her eyes in an effort to teach me a lesson? The way I so often hid behind my own mask…
“I forgive you,” she said, changing the subject. “For lying to me about cheating. I forgive you.”
I swallowed in disbelief, emotionally whiplashed. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” she answered, that fucking popsicle sliding back into her mouth. “But we have a lot to discuss.”
“Come to my apartment?” I asked, impatient. She’d forgiven me, but I knew it couldn’t be that simple. She wanted to talk more on the matter. A public place wasn’t the best option, especially with her looking the way she did. We were quite a sight—drawing glances from passersby as we sucked on our popsicles, staring at each other ferociously.
“That was the plan,” she breezed, dropping her unfinished treat into a nearby trashcan.
I followed, literally and figuratively five steps behind. “I thought you said you were going home.”
“I am going home,” she insisted. “To our apartment.”
Realization hit. I interlocked our fingers, relishing the way her small hand felt in mine. I tugged her into my chest and my lips met hers, almost bruising them with the force. She slipped her cool tongue into my mouth, the artificial fruit from her popsicle dazzling my senses.
She sighed and I dipped her, smiling at my luck. We had a lot of shit to sort through, but she wasn’t running. She was in this just as much as I was. We would figure the rest out later. I had to have her mouth. I missed it. I’d missed everything.
A few people hollered, issuing catcalls. I lifted my arm to flip them off, not breaking our embrace, but Emma beat me to it. Glancing sideways at her outstretched hand, I laughed when I caught sight of her middle finger. Then I let the rest of the world fall away, pulling my girl against me as we devoured one another in the heart of the city.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Emma
When we entered Jack’s apartment, the sun was beginning to set. His glass walls, which faced the eastern twilight, compassed the giant living space in shadow. The warm lights and brass accents welcomed me, and I sighed in relief. It felt like home, but I had been too scared to admit it before—too focused on keeping my feet on the ground in my own apartment.
Not anymore. I took my phone out of my back pocket and set it face down on the kitchen island. If I got a call from a blocked number, I didn’t want Jack to see it.
He stood in the middle of the living room, gazing at the view of the park. I’d grown accustomed to his suits from the past few months, but he was as immaculate as ever in jeans and a T-shirt. This look was more…him.
His hands were in his pockets, his abdomen flexing in anticipation. He appeared stoic, but he was far from it. His jaw was tense and his throat worked on a swallow. He’d been pensive all day. I knew he was watching me, though—could feel his stare following me everywhere I went.
“You’re killing me, dove,” Jack muttered. He hadn’t glanced in my direction since we entered the apartment, but he turned the full force of his dominance on me now. “The air dropped about ten degrees the second we got in the elevator.”
“I told you we had some things to discuss,” I said, finding my voice. It was hard to do when he looked at me like that, when my body responded so quickly to the need in his eyes. Even now, my skin prickled with awareness, my nipples hardened with want.
