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When she’s done, I follow her out of the bathroom and shut off the light. As she moves toward her bed and I get ready to settle onto my place on the floor, Emma hooks her pinky with mine and looks up at me.
“Will you lay with me?” she asks.
My lungs take in a deep breath.
No. My brain’s knee-jerk reaction is what I should be listening to, but my sore neck, my aching back, they’re louder.
“For a little while.”
She climbs in, and I follow. I reach for the lamp and turn off the light. At first, my body is on high alert, aware of Emma’s every move. My brain still pleading its case for why this is a terrible idea.
“Griffin?”
“Yeah?” I respond.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I answer honestly.
“Really?”
“I want it to go well for you.”
I can hear her smiling in the dark. “That’s sweet.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I’m nervous, too, but knowing you’ll be with me helps.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and I finally let my body relax into the cloud-like mattress. I’m going to regret this when I move to the floor in a few minutes.Add it to the list.My brain smirks.
“Thank you for doing this with me. You didn’t have to.” She shifts closer. I can feel the warmth of her body, smell the combination of her shampoo and face wash. Her hand finds mine; her fingers skim along my palm until they intersect with mine. “I appreciate it.”
My fingers collapse around her hand, holding her there.
“Yeah, of course.” I swallow. Suddenly, I’m bone tired. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve slept like shit on Emma’s bedroom floor for nearly two weeks. No, it’s the emotional drain of being near her, trying to fight our attraction and not let feelings get involved. The effort it takes to hold back from her is making me weary. Tonight, I let myself get caught up in her, but there was still restraint. I’m not sure how I’ll handle it if the situation happens again.
And now I’m lying in her bed, letting my eyelids close and listening to her breath even out beside me. My thumb skims over the smooth metal of Emma’s wedding band.
Emma’s wrong when she said that I didn’t have to come to New York to help her. I didn’t have a choice. From the moment I saw her on the roof, I knew she was mine.
* * *
Emma’s eyes scan my naked chest, then lift to my face.
“Why are you half naked and sweaty?” she says, panicked. “The interview with Kandi is in an hour.”
“I just finished up tennis with the guys.”My lips twitch. “It only takes me a few minutes to get ready.”
“Lucky you.” She paces across the room again, stops short, then backtracks to grab her phone off the dresser.
This morning when I woke up next to her, our fingers still intertwined, and my dick hard as a rock, my brain waged war against the thought of pushing her onto her back and teasing another orgasm out of her.
She’s not dressed yet; she’s in a pale pink silk robe. Her wet hair is in a messy bun on her head and her face is free of makeup. “You look beautiful.”
She laughs like I’m telling a funny joke. “I’m so stressed out, I could cry.”
I step in front of her and put my hands on her upper arms, trying to give her comfort in this clearly stressful moment. “Take a deep breath.”
