Page 28 of Crushes to WHAT

“Someone has been making you unhappy.” I’ll kill them. Or, if it’s one of his beloved relatives, I’ll give them a really mean stink eye so they know I would kill them if it wouldn’t crush Emerson to have them gone forever.

“Mostly I’ve been making myself unhappy.” He huffs an unamused laugh. “People only have the power you give them, after all. I won’t lie, it’ll be nice to have my parents off my back for a little while. Mom and Dad met when they were nineteen, fell in love at first sight, and were married with a baby on the way within four months. Despite the odds, they’ve been in the honeymoon phase ever since, and they desperately want the same for their children. Me being thirty-two years old and single is a travesty to them, followed closely in horror by Eris being thirty and single, too. They think they’ve failed us somehow. As if our relationship status has anything to do with their parenting.” He shakes his head, exasperated. “Being with you will give them hope and ease some of their worries.” He tips his head toward his sister. “And it will ease some of Eris’ worries for me as well. I know she’s being intense, but I promise it’s just because she’s feeling protective. She likes you, usually. She’s just…”

I shrug and wave a hand through the air between us. “Don’t worry about explaining Eris to me,” I interrupt. “Women are multi-faceted creatures and prone to the occasional drama, as is our right. She’s a little scary, but that has more to do with her roots than her glare, probably. Professionally, I wish she would book an appointment so that I can get her back to tip-top shape. Personally, I understand that sometimes a girl just needs some space, and I don’t mind giving it to her, especially if she’s in this mood because she loves you and wants to protect you. I can’t think of a better cause to be disfavored for.”

Emerson’s eyes soften, and he curses. “Were you born this perfect?” he asks. “Or is it something your parents taught you? If it’s on them, I’d love to set a meeting to pick their brains and make sure my future progenies turn out just like you. If it’s genetic…” His gaze goes positively molten. “I’m sure we can make that work, too.”

I blink. Hard.

Holy mother of whiplash.

Holy mother of hot whiplash.

“So, in conclusion, you want to have fun and make your family less stressed for you!” I squeak with burning cheeks.

He shows mercy to me. “Yeah, I want to have fun with you, be happy with you, and make my family less stressed, because they know I’m with you.”

My heart constricts. That’s a whole lot of with me he has there.

“I’ll do my best,” I promise. “To fulfill all of your wishes and to make your life as happy as I can for as long as you want.”

“As long as I want?” His lip twitches, evilly. “You swear?”

Well. I would’ve sworn, before I saw that lip twitch. Now I’m not so sure he doesn’t have nefarious intentions.

Oh, who am I kidding? I love nefarious intentions. I eat nefarious intentions for breakfast. I leave five star reviews on nefarious intentions and bemoan that the system only goes up to five, not five-thousand. Morally gray? Morally straight up black?

Gimme.

I tilt my head as I squint at the large, muscular man before me. “Huh,” I mutter. “You do have that villain look about you, don’t you.” I truly can’t believe I hadn’t noticed before. The dark hair. The beard. The giant, menacing aura. “Yummy,” I whisper.

His eyebrows shoot up. “What look about me?”

“The evil kind,” I answer absentmindedly as I examine his could-totally-strangle-someone-for-fun hands.

“You like evil,” Emerson states, not a question.

I do indeed like evil.

“Swear, then,” he orders, darkly.

I gulp.

His biceps bulge when he bends, bringing himself closer as he ratchets up the intensity. “Swear,” he rumbles lowly. “You’ve already said it, which is good enough for me to follow through, so now you’re just appeasing my desire to hear you give yourself to me again. I want to hear the promise on your lips, Almond. I want to hear you swear that what I want to take from you, you’ll give to me freely. So swear.”

I curse.

Then, I swear.

“I’m yours,” I whisper. “For as long as you want me, however you want me.” My stomach tangles. “I’m Emerson Wright’s girl.”

His head drops, and he says a four-letter word that blows mine out of the water. “You could kill a man,” he mutters. “And he’d happily die.”

It’s funny, that.

Because I’d say the same thing about him.

Chapter Fifteen