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Reaching down, I dig into my pocket, fingers fumbling to grab my phone. “I’ll just order an Uber…"
Apparently, I can’t retreat and grab my phone at the same time. Finally stopping, my fingers wrap around my phone and I whip it out.
My thumb swipes my phone open and I click on the app, bringing it up, but before I can do anything else, Emmett’s hand is on me, stopping me.
“Bree,” he exhales, my name coming out with sweet adoration, and it’s everything I can do not to look up at him.
Because I know if I look up at him, I’m a goner. I won’t be able to resist him.
I don’t know what it is about him that makes me weak, that draws me to him, but I’m powerless to stop it.
He’s the cliff and I’m the car barreling for him, and I can’t stop no matter how hard I pump the brakes or try to turn in another direction.
My eyes burn as I stare down at the bright screen, but I don’t pull away. I can’t bring myself to do that again. I remember all too well the flash of pain in his eyes yesterday, and god help me, the last thing I want to do is hurt this man or make him feel like I don’t want him.
The problem is I want him too much.
Unable to pull away, but also unable to take the next step, I remain paralyzed, frozen in place, before Emmett makes the decision for me.
He gives a gentle tug on my phone, a testing tug, and my subconscious must make my decision for me because my fingers open, letting him have it.
I don’t know what he does with my phone. I don’t look up to see, and I can’t hear over the sound of my own breathing.
But seconds later, his fingers are wrapping around my face, cradling my cheek. There’s a tenderness to his touch, the same tenderness he was using with Casey, but instead of comforting me or putting me at ease, it actually makes me a little angry.
Angry because he’s making it so much harder for me not to give in.
If he had grabbed me or tried to manhandle me, it would be so easy to push him away.
But treating me like this? Like I’m something that he cares about, something that he treasures? How am I supposed to react to that?
Lifting my lashes, I force myself to peer up at him. Force myself to meet that intensity head on.
&
nbsp; “You tricked me here,” I accuse and watch doubt and guilt pass over his face.
That intensity of his flickers, and I half-expect it to go out completely.
Then it flares back to life, even brighter than before as he asks, “Would you have come if I didn’t?”
Of course I wouldn’t have come because I knew this would happen.
Us alone, and me ready to make the biggest mistake of my life.
I’ve thought about this a lot over the past twenty-four hours. Entertained the thought of giving in to the attraction. Letting things play out how they would. But after it’s done, how could I go on? How could I possibly live the rest of my miserable life, doing my father’s bidding, after having a taste of what Emmett could give me?
“No, I wouldn’t have come,” I admit.
“That’s exactly why I did it,” he says in a tone that’s completely unapologetic.
The lack of apology has my anger rising. I try to jerk my face away, but he manages to grab my chin, pulling me back to him.
“I did it because you wouldn’t have come otherwise and Casey needed you.”
Wait. What?
I’m so surprised by that revelation, I can’t help but repeat it. “Casey needed me?”
