“Lilah,” I panted, my gaze darting all over her perfect face. The words were on the tip of my tongue. But saying them out loud felt like stepping off a cliff, so I just kissed her instead, not ready to risk ruining this slice of perfection we had.
17
Ch 16 - Delilah
I was halfway done shaving my left leg when my doorbell rang. Either it was averyearly trick-or-treater, or one of my unknown number of online orders getting delivered. Frowning, I reached for my phone and pulled up my Ring camera app.
If my phone had suddenly sprouted wings, I would’ve been less surprised than I was right now. Emmett was there in the grainy live feed, dressed in gray sweats and a t-shirt that stretched across his chesttoowell. He glanced out towards the parking lot, running a hand through his curly hair.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
I lowered my leg off the sink and went to the door on autopilot. Only to stop short when I saw the piles of laundry on my bed. Panicking, I shoved shit under my bed and swept everything off my dresser into my underwear drawer. I did a double-take when I saw myself in the mirror. “Shit.” Dark gray clay was drying on my face, and my hair was slicked back in a bun, oily from my hair mask.
Embarrassment coiled hot in my chest when there was a follow-up knock. I bit my lip, staring at my front door. I could just let him think I wasn’t home. But he probably saw my car inthe parking lot, and I did want to see him, despite how crazy I looked. My eyes drifted shut with a sigh, and I went to my door, pulling it open before I could talk myself out of it.
“He—” Emmett’s smile quickly morphed to a grimace. “What is that on your face?”
“Clay.” Thankfully, it was covering the heat in my cheeks. I forced nonchalance in my voice, placing all my weight on one leg and crossing my arms. “It’s self-care night.”
“Interesting.” His gaze ran over my body, and I shifted on my feet, feeling exposed. Fake nonchalance gone and replaced with full chalance. I could tell he was trying with everything he had not to smile with the way his lips were pinched. “Think you missed a spot.”
“Huh?”
He pointed to my leg, which was half covered in strawberry-scented shaving cream. “Oh my God,” I groaned, mortified, and raced to my bathroom. Emmett’s low chuckle chased after me as I slung my leg on my bathroom counter. The door clicked shut while I rinsed it off. “I’m just gonna wash my face,” I said when I heard him moving around in my kitchen.
“Okay.”
Once my face was clean, I crept out into the living room. He was on the couch, flipping through the pages of my latest monster smut book. My stomach dropped, and I yanked it out of his hands.
“What are you doing here?” My voice came out high-pitched.
He looked mildly horrified when he met my gaze. “Did I just read that right? Was that dude a kraken?”
I swallowed back my mortification and leaned against the doorjamb, smirking. “Eight tentacles are better than two hands.”
“Jesus,” he laughed, shaking his head at me. “You’re a mess, sugar.”
My smirk morphed into a smile. “You know you love it.”
He froze, and my life flashed before my eyes.I have got to get my foot out of my mouth.“I uh”—he cleared his throat and gestured to the bag on the coffee table—“I brought some movies. Didn’t know what you’d want, so I brought options.”
I grinned at the gesture, despite not really understanding why he made it. I went over and looked through the stack of DVDs. There was everything fromThe NotebooktoThe ShiningtoFinding Nemo. I bit back my laugh, my shoulders quaking.
“What?”
“Baby, it’s twenty-twenty-five, no one watches DVDs anymore.” I was fairly certain he’d have a flip phone if it weren’t for Savannah and Claire making him get an iPhone so they could FaceTime while he was deployed. “I don’t even have a DVD player.”
He frowned a little, looking at the bag. “Oh.”
I wasn’t sure he’d ever looked socute. And that wasn’t a word I used lightly for the 6’4 tatted man on my couch. But in this moment, he was the cutest thing I’d seen, looking a little defeated. Almost pouting, even. I sat down beside him, tucking my legs beneath me. I reached for the nape of his neck and the curls that lived there. I twisted one around my finger. “I have Netflix, though. We can pick one and watch it.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Okay,” he said softly. “I got ice cream, too. Pistachio. That’s still your favorite, right?”
My hand stilled in his hair. Moviesandice cream? He’d never done anything like this before. Every time he came over, we went straight to fucking. Even when we were just friends—if we could’ve even been considered that—he hadn’t gone out of his way to spend quality time with me. Real, quality time. Especially not time that included my favorite ice cream flavor I had no idea he even knew about.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “It is.” His eyes softened the longer he looked at me. I was melting; dopey and in love and would soonbe a puddle at his side. I cleared my throat. “I hope you brought cookie dough for yourself because I’m not sharing mine.”
“How do you know my favorite ice cream?”
