It was easily the most intimate thing I’d ever experienced.
Eventually, the tension in my muscles slowly unfurled, my breathing steadying. My hands slid around her calves, no longer shaking. Her skin was so soft. A dream to touch. I breathed her in, and her sweet scent infiltrated my lungs. My blood. Embedding her in my system when I’d just managed to scrape her out.
Her hand stilled in my hair when my nose ran along the inside of her knee. “You smell so good, sugar,” I breathed, unable to stop it. Not that I really tried. And I refused to cover it up like I had last week in the stables. Nothing about this was a slip-up.
I was tired right now. Weak. Overwhelmed by feelings I didn’t understand. I didn’t have the strength to pretend I didn’t want her.
Her shaky breath pierced the air like a bullet. And that jittery, light feeling that I got the first time we kissed sprouted in my chest. My fingers tingled as they slid up her legs. When I looked up at her, her eyes were hooded, lust-filled. Her chest heaving.
She was breathtaking, and she just pulled me out of an episode faster than I ever had. Something about it only made me want her more.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” I admitted. “That night.”
“Emmett.” Her voice quivered, the warning in it brittle. “We agreed only once.”
I rose to my feet, my knees weak. Her legs spread around me when I braced myself on the desk, caging her in. “I know. Trust me, I know.”
I brushed her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers tangle in the strands as I cradled the back of her head. “Once wasn’t enough.”
She opened her mouth to respond when footsteps came up the stairs, and I dropped to the floor and started picking up my trash. “Hey, Delilah, I was—oh!” Tess’s eyes were wide, bouncing between us. “What are you doing here?” Fucking sisters and their terrible fucking timing. I’d be cursing her out in my head for months, maybe years, for this.
“Delilah hurt herself.” I glanced over my shoulder at her. Her cheeks were flushed. “Just keep it clean, and it should be fine,” I told her, my voice cracking.
“Yeah, okay,” she replied, breathless.Shit.
“What happened?” Tess asked, her voice full of suspicion. I couldn’t even look at her. This was exactly why I had agreed to only once. So things like this didn’t happen.
“It wassodumb,” Delilah chuckled. I inwardly cringed at how shitty of a liar she was. “We were moving furniture, and I thought I could move the desk by myself, but I couldn’t, and the leg of it scraped my shin when I dropped it. Emmett patched me up. Good as new!”
She was absolutely terrible at covering things up. She was way too peppy. But if I’d had a better grip on myself, she wouldn’t be in this position, lying to one of her friends again because of me..
I threw the trash away, pretending I was anywhere but here. “Gotta get back to work,” I murmured, and got the hell out of there before they could see what a mess I was.
I couldn’t let myself lose control like that again. It was too risky. I needed to act like nothing happened, like I didn’t want her with every breath I took. I had to go back to how I’d always been—it was the only way we’d get past this.
Even if the thought of losing control with Delilah made me feel alive in a way I never had before.
9
Ch 8 - Delilah
The setting sun was warm on my skin, and the air carried a breeze that flowed through my hair. My head tilted skyward, and I couldn’t stop the smile on my face as the last moments of daylight slipped away. Taking a deep breath, I let the scent of grass and early autumn and everything falling into place fill my lungs.
This was my favorite time of year. When the days were warm and the nights were cool. When pumpkin spice lattes were back in season, and it was socially acceptable to rewatchGilmore Girlsfor the millionth time.
“It feels so nice out, doesn’t it, girlie?” I ran my hands along Willow’s neck up to her ears as we rode back to the stables. I gave her some good scratches behind her ears, and she threw her head around, loving it and making me laugh.
I swung my leg over her, getting down to give her a treat. But the moment my feet hit the ground, a loud crash echoed from inside the stables. My heart slammed to a halt in my chest. I ran towards the commotion, stopping short when I saw Emmett in the tack room. It was trashed. Emmett at the center of it all. He was breathing hard, hands curling and uncurling at his sides.
“What the fuck, Emmett?!” I screeched, taking in all the damage. There was feed all over the floor, and the scent of chemicals lingered in the air. And by the look of the saddle pads and blankets with dark spots on them, that’s where it was coming from. “What did you do?” I knew PTSD episodes could be bad, but I didn’t think he’d do something like this…or that this was PTSD.
Emmett spun on his heels, a crazed look in his eyes. “You think I did this?” he yelled, absolutely livid.
Anger flared hot in my chest. “Are you serious? I just heard you!”
“You heard me kick a feed bucket that was already turned over,” he snarled. He grabbed a saddle off the wall and flung it at my feet. “You really think I’d dothat?”
I looked down at the saddle. My stomach dropped. The leather was scratched, the horn snapped off, and the stirrups cut. My mouth bobbed, speechless, and I looked around the room again. There were torn bridles and halters. More ruined saddles. Just about everything was destroyed.
