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I take another puff and let the smoke settle in my lungs. It should be hitting me soon.
I can’t take my eyes off Emma as she watches the two of them walk out, leaving her alone with me.
CHAPTER3
Emma
Ibite down on my thumbnail, a nervous habit I've always had. I can't believe Sandra left me here withhim. My heart is racing, and I feel like I can barely breathe.
I can't look at Derek without all of the memories I have with him flooding into my mind. All of those afternoons spent talking and making out in that beat up car.
His Honda was our safe place. I’d go wherever he took me. We just wanted to get away.
Me from my parents' fighting, and him from something, although I don't know what. He never wanted to go home. He wouldn’t tell me why.
I can feel his piercing gaze on me as I turn back toward the TV, barely breathing. A shiver runs through my body as I swallow thickly.
All of those study periods sitting next to each other, all of those late nights spent talking on the phone. It’s all coming back to me. I close my eyes slowly, concentrating on breathing.
“You wanna hit?” he asks as the sounds of Tony and Sandra running up the stairs fade into the background.
I force myself to look at him as he takes another puff of his blunt. My mouth parts to say something, but nothing comes out. This is so fucking awkward.
“No.” I breathe the word, playing with the edge of the chenille throw on the sofa. I take a deep breath and try to calm down.
“I don’t smoke. Thanks though,” I say shakily. I debate on saying something to break this tension. But I don’t know what to say.I’m sorry I left you all those years ago. It sucks. I loved the way I felt with you, but I was scared. Are you still a drug dealer?Jesus, I can’t say any of that. It’s been five years. And he isn’t bringing it up, so I’m sure as fuck not going to.
He takes another short hit and readjusts on the sofa so he's facing me.
He’s so intimidating. It’s not just his dark, sharp looks, it’s the way he carries himself.
I can hardly stand being this close to him without making a fucking fool of myself. He makes me feel weak.
Damnit!Why did I sit on the loveseat? We’re way too close. I take a deep breath to say something else. I can’t stand this tension any longer, but before I can say a single word, I get a hint of his cologne.
I read somewhere that smell carries the most memory. Polo Black by Ralph Lauren, his signature scent. Just like he used to wear in high school. It’s my favorite. I always think of him whenever I smell it.
I close my eyes and take another deep breath. God, he smells so fucking good. I can't believe just the smell of him is making me want him so much. I can practically feel his hands on my body. He held me like he owned me; he kissed me like he needed the air in my lungs to breathe. No one else has ever made me feel like that.
I open my eyes and take a glance at him.
“So how do you like school?” he asks. My heart’s beating so fucking fast, and yet he’s unaffected.
His hand rests on his jeans, and I can clearly see the outline of his hard cock. I draw in a sharp breath, looking away.
I stare down at the floor as my cheeks flame. Jesus! I'm blushing like a fucking thirteen-year-old girl. We never took it that far, but I sure as fuck wish we had. I remember grinding on top of him in the driver’s seat as he kissed my neck. The sexiest sound I've ever heard was him moaning because of my touch.
“Um, school’s good.” I clear my throat and turn to face him a little more. “It's a lot of work, but,” I force myself to look up at him and into his eyes and not back down to his dick as I continue, “I like it. And it’ll be worth it in the end.”
“You always did put all of your effort into school,” he says, smirking. He takes another drag. “That's great, though,” he adds as he exhales and blows the sweet-smelling smoke away from me. He never smoked around me back in high school. He hid a lot from me back then.
He looks sexy as fuck doing it.
I can't stop staring at his lips, remembering how soft, yet demanding they felt against mine.
“How’s, uh,” I pause as I have no idea what he’s doing now. “What do you do?” I ask him, my forehead pinching.
He takes a long drag, and exhales slowly. I waiting, watching him as he quickly licks between his thumb and pointer finger and pinches the blunt out. Oh, the things he used to do to me with that tongue, even if we only ever made out. When he’d lick and kiss my neck, it was the most intense feeling. The subtlety and gentleness were so unexpected.
