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“You’re calling me a little girl?”
“You already called me childish.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have called you that. I should’ve called you a spineless, ball-less, spoiled little baby!”
The room goes silent once more, then Trent begins to grab all his things, getting up
from his chair. His face has gone totally still, the way I know it does when he’s trying to hide strong emotions.
He stands right next to Emma’s chair, towering over her as he stares down at her. “It’s funny. Considering you had the courage to do to me what you did, I’d say you’ve got the biggest balls in the room. Does it shame you much?”
Before she can answer, he pushes the glass door open and is gone in a second.
“Guess that’s the end of the fucking meeting,” West finally grunts, getting up from his seat and heading for the door too.
It’s just me and Emma alone in the room, and I feel a little bad for her. I’m also such a damn glutton for punishment that I can’t help but savor this moment of being alone with her. She’s on the verge of tears, and a weird fantasy pops into my head about comforting her. Going up to her and wrapping my arms around her waist, then bringing a hand up to her cheek to brush away a tear.
Since I’m definitely not going to do any of that shit, I sit here instead and watch her clean up her papers. She doesn’t look at me, but I know she’s keenly aware of my presence.
“What did you expect to happen, Emma?” I finally say, my voice low. “You had to know coming to Clearwater would be like this.” I want to counsel her as a friend, but I still have to keep my distance, knowing what she’s done.
“No. I didn’t expect any of this, Reese, because I didn’t know that you guys would be here.” Emma looks up and finally makes direct eye contact. “I didn’t ask for this, and I don’t even deserve it. But it’s not going to be like last time. I’m stronger now, so you guys can do whatever the hell you want. I’m. Not. Fucking. Leaving.”
“You don’t deserve this?” I say doubtfully.
“No, I don’t deserve this. I’m sorry if I hurt Trent, or any of you, but it doesn’t fucking justify any of the shit you did to me—that you’re still doing to me! I know all three of you want me to run, but I won’t. I’d die before I run.”
I stop and watch again as she fills her backpack with her things. Damn, she’s so different than she was back in high school. She’s much stronger now, and I have to admit I’m impressed. For some reason, it actually makes her more beautiful than she was before. How is that even possible?
As she leans over her backpack, I get a brief glimpse of her dainty cleavage, and I feel my dick respond again. I turn away, clearing my throat.
Emma’s still so on edge that the noise makes her jump a little, and she drops her phone on the floor as she tries to stuff it into a side pocket of her bag. Because I was raised to be a gentleman—and okay, maybe because I want to see if she has any texts from that Peter fucker—I get up from my chair and crouch down to pick up the phone for her.
As I do, she bends down to grab the phone too, and as we both rise at the same time, our bodies brush against one another. I’m standing right in front of her, looking down at Emma and seeing that charming deer-in-headlights look that she gets when she’s overwhelmed. Neither one of us moves, and as we stay rooted to the spot, electricity seems to zap between us.
Fucking hell. This isn’t just me. I know it isn’t. One person can’t generate this level of sexual chemistry all on their own. Emma is just as powerfully attracted to me as I am to her, despite our circumstances.
I bring my fingers to the sides of her arms and I see that she has goosebumps. I gently touch her skin, watching intently as she closes her eyes. Yep, Emma is definitely enjoying this contact. Or at the very least, she can’t seem to resist it. Next, I bring my hand down through her hair. The blonde strands are silky and full, and for a second, I think I might be the luckiest motherfucker in all of Clearwater.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice raspy.
“No, Reese.” The words come out on a sigh, and I think she spoke them against her will. Like she doesn’t want to admit weakness to me. “I’m not okay. I’m so fucking far from okay.”
“It’s not gonna get any better,” I whisper. “Although I wish it would.”
Her eyes snap open, seeming as surprised at my admission as I was at hers. Then she shakes her head, her gaze hardening even though she doesn’t step away from me.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to get through it.”
“Yeah.” I tug on her hair gently. “I believe you will.”
We’re already standing so close our bodies are brushing, but now Emma leans even closer to me, and my heart starts thudding hard in my chest. I’m pretty sure we’re about to kiss. I come so close that I can smell her cherry lip-gloss when I feel Emma pull away and take a deep breath.
She still hasn’t stepped back though. It’s almost like she can’t.
And I don’t fucking want to let her. If she moves away, this moment between us will break, and I’m not quite ready to let it go yet.
“Why did you say no to me?” I murmur, bringing my gentle fingers to her abdomen now. I think Emma almost moans from the feeling of it.
