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Emery glances back at Isabella, and then leans in, her voice low. “You can’t say stuff like that in front of my daughter.”
She tries to pull away from me, but I hold her arm tighter. I close the small gap between us. She’s arched away from me, but our lower bodies are melded. I can feel warmth pouring off of her, leaching into my thighs. Her scent is a drug.
“And you shouldn’t even be out of your room.”
“Isabella was in pain.”
“Luckily, I fixed it,” I point out. “Problem solved. Go to bed.”
Emery’s full lips mash into a thin line. “I’m not a prisoner here.”
“Not yet,” I hiss. “But that can always be arranged.”
She inhales sharply and her chest brushes across mine. Seeking the answer to a curiosity, I lean forward.
The answer to my question is yes—her nipples are hard.
“Or maybe you’d like that?” I suggest. “I’m happy to revisit the idea of tying you up if you—”
“What idea?” Isabella asks.
Emery jumps away from me. Her hands flutter over her stomach and then fist at her sides. She’s jittery—a walking, talking bundle of exposed nerves.
“Nothing. No idea. Come on, Isabella,” Emery practically shouts. “It’s time for bed.”
She turns to leave, but my hand is still around her wrist. I hold tight, and Emery looks back at me. Her green eyes lower to where my fingers are pressing into the soft flesh of her forearm. When she looks back up, her long lashes flutter.
“Please,” she says softly.
I arch a brow, surprised by how that one little word sets me on fire.
If Isabella wasn’t here, I’d drag Emery closer. I’d lift her onto the counter and step between her legs.
I’d wait for her to beg. She’s on the cusp already. Even if she won’t admit it to herself, I can see the truth buried in her eyes. The reality that she wants this is soaking through her panties.
“Mama?” Isabella is by the door, ice packs still around her knees and my shirt wedged behind her back.
“Coming, baby.” Emery looks at me for the length of a breath, her chest rising and falling.
I want her to ask permission again like a good girl. I want to hear the words fall from her lips, an appetizer of what’s to come whenever she finally breaks.
But there will be time for that later.
For now, I let her go.
As soon as I do, Emery backs away from me quickly. She hurries across the kitchen and disappears into the hallway with Isabella.
But it’s fine. Let her run. I’m a very patient man when I need to be.
