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She keeps her head down, swirling the food on her plate. “Yes.”
“Who cares, Emmy! I’m bored. Plus, I need some head to relieve the tension,” Ash whines.
It catches her attention with a reactive response. “Uh-uh… you’re married. Don’t go screwing things up. We don’t need any more scandal in our lives.”
“What are you talking about? There’s no scandal,” he corrects not knowing about Wesley’s indiscretions. I hadn’t said anything to him, keeping my promise to her intact. “And a hand-job doesn’t count. It’s not cheating.”
I try to keep a straight face but let out a laugh. We’ve had this conversation numerous times and I agreed it doesn’t count.
“It counts. Believe me. Seriously, you’re an idiot,” she tells him without emotion. “You can come... on one condition.”
I shake my head glancing at Ash. “Here we go. What?”
“You don’t touch any women and they don’t touch you.”
“Fine,” Ash agrees, wincing and letting out another loud belch. “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” He bolts off to the restroom leaving the two of us alone at the table. The remaining patrons have vacated the premises, leaving only the two of us and the waiter in the room.
“So, does that rule count for me? Or am I free to do whoever I please?”
She glances up from her plate, her blue eyes wild and staring at me with curiosity. “You’re free to do whoever you please. You’re not tied to anyone.”
“I’m not,” I say freely, keeping my gaze fixed. “So, what’s the deal with you and Wesley?”
“No deal. We’re just filming.”
“As a couple?”
“For the sake of the network. Yes.”
“But you live together?”
“Technically, yes.”
I remain quiet, unsure of why my heart rate spikes and why my fist is clenched on the table. She stares blankly. The unanswered questions swirling in my mind drive me to the brink of insanity, but I have no right to put her on the spot because she has her life and I have mine.
“Go on. Ask the question. You want to know if we’re still sleeping in the same bed or if I’m fucking him. Right?” She waits for my response, irritated we’re even talking about this. “The answer is no, Logan. I don’t fuck him.”
“I never asked.”
“I can see it burning on the tip of your tongue. He cheated on me. He was the one who broke our relationship,” she reminds me.
“Interesting. Were you not the one who just told Ash that hand-jobs are classed as cheating?”
“Yeah, so?” She shrugs.
I lean in closer, purposely making her uncomfortable. “So, me fingering that tight little pussy of yours is not cheating?”
I expect her to blush, squirm in her seat, and make this moment awkward. But of course, Emerson Chase has to have the last word, the only woman to never back down. “In my mind we were already broken up. So, get off your high horse because you getting me off meant nothing more than that.”
Fuck. Me.
Ash thunders back complaining that his ass will be burning for days, and now he knows what it feels like when women complained his dick’s too big.
It’s enough for Emmy to almost throw up on the table.
We call for the check before making our way outside. There’s two men wearing baseball caps standing on the opposite side of the road. They keep to themselves though look in our direction every few seconds. LA is swarming with paparazzi, it’s one of the reasons why I hate visiting the place.
We chat briefly about tonight with Emmy agreeing to pick us up at eight. The network’s organized a limo expecting a huge viewership of this episode. She told us she’ll need to let them know we’re riding, and if the footage is to air it will require our consent as well.
