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My lips touch hers and I feel the tension between us. Her lips are soft, rosy, plump.
Wrong.
I bite on her bottom lip gently and she asks for more.
Forbidden.
She crushes her lips against mine and pushes her little tongue in my mouth, exploring, desperate for me, wanting more.
We shouldn’t.
But we do.
We kiss, and I wrap my arms around her like I’ll never let go. I ignore all the alarms inside of my head and I take her, claim her as mine. I do what I’ve always wanted to do.
Her mouth is ice cold and mine is burning with passion. She melts into my embrace, our kiss deepening.
“More,” she whimpers when I try to move back, her hands desperately gripping mine. “Please, I need more.”
So I obey. I kiss her until her knees go weak and it feels like I’m the only force holding her up. And after what seems like hours, but minutes at the same time, I step back and she nearly topples over, findin
g my eyes with hers.
“I’m …” I start apologizing, but I just can’t. I can’t say I’m sorry I did it, when all I want is more right now.
“Don’t,” she says after my pause, her hand flying up to her face and touching her lips, swollen from my kiss. “Don’t say you’re sorry …”
So I don’t, and we just look at each other, contemplating what we’ve done.
Then a car honks and I quickly turn around, spotting her driver pulling into our street. When I look back at Emme, she’s tucking her hair behind her ear, refusing to look at me.
“Emme …” I say softly, but she raises a hand in the air, not saying a thing.
It hurts me. It hurts so bad.
She rushes to the car, not waiting for the driver to open the door for her. As the car door slams behind her and the car drives off, I stare there, looking at it rounding the corner, feeling more confused than ever.
Chapter 11
I stumble back home, causing Aiden to wonder if I’m drunk when I walk through our front door. But his worries are soon forgotten as he sits me down at the kitchen table and begins telling me all about Emme.
“I thought it was best to set the plan into motion as soon as possible,” he begins excitedly. “I invited her over as soon as you went off to work.”
I feel a pang in my chest.
“She fell for it!” he says excitedly, laughing like a child. I want to hurt him, imagine my hands wrapping around his neck. I’ll be damned if I let him hurt her. “She was here so fast, Blane, you would not believe it.”
He goes on to tell me about how he made lunch for them, and how they had a nice meal, and talked about how hard it is without our parents. What a shame it is that we lost touch, when we should stick together.
“I didn’t call her sis once,” he says proudly. “You know, wouldn’t be good for the plan we have,” he winks at me.
This goes on and on and on.
“And then she said she was cold, and I let her borrow my hoodie. She said she missed the smell of me,” he finishes and it hurts so fucking bad to know she said that.
“Your plan is genius,” Aiden commends me. “I’m so glad you thought of that. I can’t wait to get what is rightfully ours. I’ve been thinking what area I want to move into later on,” he says thoughtfully, like it’s all a done deal, and finally, I’ve had enough.
“Aiden,” I say, reminding myself to tread carefully. Once my brother is hooked on an idea, it’s hard to turn him off it. And if he thinks for one moment I’m telling him not to do it, he’ll go ahead just to spite me. “We were so drunk last night,” I chuckle.
“Hammered,” he says with a wide grin.
I nod. “And we had some crazy ideas, huh?” I ask.
He nods again, tearing off a chunk of brie I bought earlier and stuffing it in his mouth.
“I don’t know whether that idea was … my best,” I admit. He loves it when I’m wrong, so he should fall for this. Guess it’s the younger brother syndrome.
“Brother,” he says seriously. “You’ve had some bad ideas, and done some pretty stupid stuff.” I smile weakly. “But that one?” His eyes glisten, and I know this will end badly. “That one was pure gold.”
“Aiden …” I try again, but he’s already launched into another tirade about Emme and how she will pay for everything she did to us. It’s getting harder and harder not to punch him.
Finally, I fake a headache – which is becoming increasingly more real – and head into my room.
Our flat is one-bedroom, and since I’m the one paying for it, I claimed it. Aiden sleeps on the couch. I don’t think I’ve ever been more thankful to have some privacy.
I lie on my bed and think about what I’ve done.
But she keeps intruding on my thoughts, her name dancing before me, her full lips shaped in the letters that form my name, taunting me.
I crack hours later, after two pain killers and a tumbler of whiskey burning my throat. I get my phone and I hold it for a long time before finally calling her number.
It rings and rings.
“Hello, you’ve reached the private number of Emme Ford. Please leave a message after the tone,” her soft voice informs me, the words a sharp contrast to her innocence.
I’m thankful and upset that she didn’t answer at the same time.
And I’m pretty sure I call again and again, just so I can listen to the sound of her voice before I fall asleep.
