“What’s happening here?” Emmett asks.
“You took care of me.” I stroke the V at his hips with my thumb, appreciating the sharp edges of it. “Now I’m taking care of you.”
“Think you’ve done enough of that over the last few weeks, don’t you?”
“If you want me to stop, say the word, but this is how these things work, Emmett. You take care of me, I take care of you.” I lift his shirt higher, carefully pulling it over his shoulder. He’s getting stronger, healing every day, but burns like his are fussy, and I don’t want to cause him any pain.
He circles my wrist and I drop the shirt at his feet. Emmett brings my hand to his mouth, kissing the pulse point.
“Tonight is about you.”
“You’d make every night about me if I let you.”
He would, too. That’s the thing about Emmett. Beneath all the walls and warnings is a man who gives until there’s nothing left of himself.
“Listen when I say this.”
My hands move to his waistband, pushing his jeans down until he’s left in nothing but boxer briefs, then I spin him toward the mirror, palms flattening against his waist.
He’s enormous in the reflection. Broad shoulders, bruised skin, hard muscle, all wrapped around the kindest man I’ve ever known. I lean around him, my fingertips slipping beneath the elastic at his hips just enough to make his stomach tense. Catching his gaze in the mirror, I hold it.
“Taking care of you turns me on just as much as you taking care of me.”
His expression shifts instantly.
“Maybe more than the promise of a handful of orgasms,” I admit. “Stop acting like I’m doing you some kind of favor when I want this too.”
He wets his lips, eyes dropping to where my hands tease just inches from where he wants me.
My eyes flick to the bandage at his shoulder. That needs to come off before it gets wet.
“Let me take care of you and I’ll hand the reins over for the rest of the night.” My hand grips him at the root, squeezing and tugging until I sweep my thumb over his tip.
Emmett hisses through his teeth. “Aspen.”
“Give me this, and you can spend the rest of the night however you want.
His eyes squeeze shut. “Fuck.” And his hips flex, thrusting into my hand.
‘That’s it,” I encourage. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“So damn good,” he murmurs.
“Watch, Emmett,” I tell him.
His eyes drop to the spot in the mirror where I’m stroking him.
“Watch me take care of you the same way I watched you take care of yourself.”
“You do it so much better,” he says.
This is hotter than I expected. I press my thighs together, trying to stave off the growing need between them.
“Keep it up, and I’m going to make a mess all over.”
“Good thing I like you messy.” Every messy piece of Emmett is my favorite. The vulnerable man I first met. The grumpy one always trying to protect himself. The helpful one working on my Jeep, pretending it’s just about keeping busy. The one who getssuckered into horseshoes and comes home smiling. The one who can’t stop watching me.
Every version of him undoes me a little more than the last.
