Page 88 of Jesse

“Why?” she says.

“Why forget it?” I laugh. “Because trust me, it’s in your best interest. You don’t want to get involved with me.”

“Do you want to get involved with me?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Because you get to decide what’s best for me?” she says, taking a step up towards me. “You get the power?” Another step.

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

And then another step and we’re both on the landing. “Then explain it.”

“I can’t.”

“Because you don’t know? Or because you don’t want me to know?”

“Both.”

She stomps her foot. And in the echo of that stomp she says, “That makes no sense. Either you know, or you don’t.”

“I know enough not to tell anyone what I know.”

“You’re talking in circles.”

“Because you keep asking the same damn question. And I keep giving you the wrong answer.”

She takes another step towards me and now we’re very close. “You look different today. You look… dark. And angry. And maybe a little sad.”

I just shake my head but she closes the few inches between us and places her hands on my waist. A safe move. A move that says, I want more, but I need help to get there.

There’s not going to be an us. There’s not going to be any trips down to Key West for Saturday night dinners. There’s not going to be any more sailing, or diving, or sandbars, or sunsets, or stars.

She presses forward, her stomach against my cock. “Emma,” I say, placing a hand on her arm, fully intending on pushing her away.

“What?” she whispers, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss me.

I close my eyes and kiss her back. Falling into the feeling of her mouth. Getting lost in the taste of her tongue against mine. She tastes like berries. Like bright berry beaches filled with sun and sand.

God, I want her.

She pulls back from the kiss and takes my hand. “Will you show me your place? Or did I blow it?”

My eyes track up the stairs.

Not to my door, which is right there. But up, in that little gap that lets you see all the way to the top when you stand in just the right place in a stairwell. To Johnny’s floor. And the penthouse above it.

Can he hear us? Does he know what I’m doing? Is he even alive?

“Come with me,” I say, then lead her up the rest of the stairs and punch in the code to open the fire door into my lobby.

Zach is there waiting for us. Also frowning pretty deeply. “What?” I say. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“Tabloid story developing.”

“What tabloid story?” Emma asks.

“How bad?” I ask.