And just like that, the mention of her older brother—one of my closest friends, no less—has me clearing my throat as I look away to dismount.
I slam my eyes closed, grateful to have put Marshal between us to allow me to recenter myself, but behind my lids, all I can see are ocean-blue eyes and silky blonde hair. Creamy soft skin and pink pillowy lips that beg to be kissed…
My teeth grind together as self-disgust rises in the depths of my chest, and a cold sweat dots my brow at the direction my stupid brain has taken.
What thefuckis wrong with you, Holloway?
I blow out a slow breath and open my eyes, watching without really seeing as my hands reach for Marshal’s saddle.
“That Doubting Thomas won’t believe it till he sees it, Tink.” I strive for flippant, but it comes out choked, even to my own ears.
Blessedly, Emmy doesn’t notice as she slips around the front of Marshal. I can see her wry smile in my peripheral vision, but focus on adjusting stirrups that don’t need any adjusting, fidgety in my need to forget the stupid thoughts refusing to leave me.
“You’ll just have to help me recreate the magic then, Cowboy.”
I simply nod, fixated on the stirrups before me and the uptick of my heartbeat as I dimly realize I need to leave. Pronto.
Without warning, I twist about, extending my arm to take Tessa’s reins, intent on stabling Emerson’s palomino so I can get the fuck out of Dodge. But as I reach out, she steps closer, and my body goes stock still when my hand misses my intended destination, instead slipping around her slim waist.
Her eyes blow wide, and her cheeks pinken as she inhales a sharp breath. My eyes drop to her lips when she tugs the bottom one between her white teeth. After a beat, she lets it go with a softpopbefore running the tip of her tongue across the abused skin.
The action sends visions of taking her mouth with mine dancing through my mind, making my dick thicken behind my already tight jeans.
Our breaths intermingle, and despite knowing I should step back—I’m four years older,supposedlywiser, and she’s for-fucking-bidden fruit—my feet don’t move. My hands don’t either. I’m physically incapable of tearing myself away.
Instead, I stand mutely, inhaling the delicate fragrance surrounding her. An almost woodsy mixture of jasmine and roses makes goosebumps ripple across the exposed skin of my forearms.
Without conscious thought, the hand resting on the gentle curve of her back flexes, bunching the soft material of hershirt within my fist. My free palm itches with the almost overwhelming longing to reach out and touch her.
Emmy is the one to suspend the stillness when she haltingly brings her right hand up between us, placing it palm down against my chest. The simple action sends a shudder clear through me as she blinks, leaning closer in silent invitation.
My heart thunders against my chest, the sound filling my ears as I begin to close the gap, throwing myself head-first into the madness that has taken hold. Uncaring about the fallout, my palm slides around the nape of her neck, and a sense of rightness envelops me like never before.
I feel as though we’re on the brink of something monumental when my lips are a mere fraction away from Emmy’s, until a door slamming makes both of us freeze.
“What’s going on, shit brick?”
Easton’s deep voice shatters the illusion surrounding us, and we both jolt back to reality with a bang. Our hands fall away from one another as we each take a step back.
Emmy’s eyes are wide as saucers when she brings her fingers to her bottom lip, dusting them across the flesh I so desperately want to kiss but can’t.
What are you doing, idiot?
As I clench my jaw in frustration, Emmy’s eyes flick between mine, a small frown marring the perfect skin of her brow as though she, too, can’t make sense of what just happened – or almost happened.
She swallows visibly before rounding the front of Marshal once more, but this time, her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey, East! We were just talking about you?—”
The sound of my cell ringing pierces the silence of my office, roughly pulling me from my musings, and I swear aloud as I reach for the damn thing, swiping to answer without checking the caller.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Boss Man. Just checking in with an update.”
I sit forward at the sound of Damon’s voice, impatient for him to continue. “Spit it out, then.”
My words are far more harsh than necessary, but even so, Damon takes it on the chin.
Of all my employees, Damon is probably the one I relate to most. We’re both solitary creatures, preferring to keep to ourselves, and focusing on the job with a single-mindedness like no other.
