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He kissed up my neck, my jaw, my cheek, forehead, and eventually my mouth again. Part of me wanted to read more into his tender kiss. But I refused to do so.
West pulled back so he could see me. He moved a hand to brush hair back from my face. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Emmy. I don’t tell you that enough.”
His eyes were sincere, and my throat closed with emotion. If I didn’t do something, I might start crying.
And since this was supposed to be a no-strings-attached few days of sex, I needed to get my shit together. He wasn’t my boyfriend, could never be, and I needed to be strong and independent and responsible like I’d been for so long. Even when I’d lived with the Wolfe family, I’d almost always kept up appearances of being happy and content.
I pushed against his shoulder. Even though he frowned, he moved away and let me up.
I asked, “So, what’s this night you have planned for me?”
His brows came together for a second but then eased. “Give me a second.”
He walked into the bathroom. When he returned, his jeans were done up again, and he carried a wet washcloth. “Spread your legs.”
Frowning, I did. When he gently cleaned between my thighs, my throat grew tight again.
How the hell was this man real? And how had his late wife not appreciated him?
Not your concern, Emmy.
Once he’d discarded the washcloth and returned to the room, he pulled out a chair at the table. “Your dinner will arrive soon, madam.”
“Madam? That makes me sound about fifty and really old.”
“Well, if you’re old, then I’m about to expire any minute now.”
He winked, and I couldn’t help but laugh. As I slid into the seat, he pushed it up and sat across from me.
I propped my chin on my hand. “It’s weird to see this side of you. Who’d have thought that the guy who grunts all the time could tease me so much?”
West lifted one shoulder. “Sometimes we hide who we are to protect ourselves. I think I did that once my marriage fell apart the first time, and every time after that.”
Things had just turned deadly serious. And yet, I didn’t want to brush past what he’d shared.
So I dared to ask, “What I never understood was why you left with her? I get that you married her because she got pregnant. But surely you knew your family would’ve stood by you?”
There was a knock, and West went to answer it. I crossed my arms, a little irritated at the interruption.
He returned with takeout bags. The smell of tomatoes, chili, and garlic filled the room, and my mouth watered. Had he really ordered one of my favorite foods?
As soon as he put the opened container of arrabbiata pasta in front of me, then the salad, garlic bread and even wine—Starry Wolfe wine, of course—I stared at him. “Did you know this is my favorite, or did you just make a lucky guess?”
“The one time Beck made this dish and we were both there, you made little moans and sounds of pleasure as you ate it. I figured you liked it.”
My cheeks heated at the thought of West noticing my weakness for spicy, tomato noodle goodness. “I do. It’s just that I can never make it from scratch quite right, and the jarred stuff is never as good as homemade.” I paused and then added softly, “My mom made the best kind. It still reminds me of her.”
I stared down at my food and remembered my mother placing a giant bowl of pasta on the table with a flourish. Her apron had always been dirty with sauce and who knew what else—she’d not been a tidy cook.
But my dad, brother, and I had always competed to make the loudest sounds of pleasure with smacking lips or hums or whatever ridiculous thing we thought of until my mom would laugh and tell us to stop being silly.
I swallowed. I hadn’t recalled those memories in years.
For years, I’d been able to pack away those memories and keep them from escaping. But for some reason, West kept bringing them out.
His hand covered one of mine, and I met his gaze. The understanding in them made my eyes heat with tears. “I know what it’s like to miss a parent, Emmy. My aunt has been encouraging me to treasure the memories I have instead of always trying to keep them locked up. I’m stubborn as fuck, but I’m slowly starting to think she’s right. Don’t tell her that, of course, or I’ll never live it down.”
Needing a distraction from my own memories, I focused back on West. “You never answered my earlier question. Your family loves you, so why did you leave Starry Hills?”
