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“I should go back to Seattle.” Her hand drops to her hip.
I can’t take my eyes off of her. “Give it a few days. I’m stuck here too. I’ve got a problem that I can’t run away from.”
I let myself believe I’m talking about the launch of Letter Leap, but that’s not it.
The problem is that ever since I kissed her, nothing has made sense to me.
My desire to fuck her is clouding everything. I can’t think straight.
“How long will you be staying in Manhattan?” Her voice lowers.
“As long as it takes.”
The gruffness in my tone shocks us both. She steps back. I scrub the back of my neck. I need to temper the need I feel for this woman.
Her phone lights up with another text message.
“Dammit.” Her tongue darts over her bottom lip. “It’s Drake again. I should respond.”
I move closer to press my lips to her forehead. Breathing in the sweet scent of her skin, I whisper, “Try to get some sleep tonight.”
Her eyes find mine. “You too. You need to rest.”
I need to come.
I keep that to myself as I brush past her and head to my bedroom alone.
Chapter 41
Emma
Glancing at the flowers on the nightstand, I turn over on my side. My brother had little to say when I texted him back. He told me he’d fill me in more when he had time. I reminded him that I’d prefer if that would be during daylight hours in New York.
I roll over again and kick the covers back from the bed.
I’m burning up.
Sitting up, I fist the sheet with my hands to keep them from shaking.
Not only did I drink my body weight in coffee today, but I’m on fire from the way Case looked at me before he went to sleep. The roughness of his voice went straight to my core.
“ As long as it takes .”
I’ve been replaying those words in my mind since I dropped into bed an hour ago.
As long as it takes to satisfy his need for me?
As long as it takes to fuck me over and over again?
As long as it takes until we wear each other out?
My hand darts to the outside of the white silk panties I’m wearing.
I’m desperate to come, but I’m savoring the high of the desire I’m feeling.
Fanning a hand in front of my face, I look to the open window. It’s doing nothing to quench my need for cool air.
I may be feeling flushed because of Case, but it’s more than that. The air conditioning hasn’t come on. This room has to be upwards of eighty degrees.
Swinging my bare legs over the side of the bed, I stand.
My brother installed a smart home system in this apartment before my last visit. He gave me a primer on it the day I arrived, but I didn’t have to use it during that trip.
Drake pre-programmed everything in, so my coffee was ready in the morning when I woke up and the lights in my room were set to dim in the evening.
The air conditioning runs off the panel, so I start toward the door of the guestroom.
I inch the door open, peering out into the darkened hallway.
No light is escaping from under the door of Case’s bedroom. The air conditioning must be working in there, or he’s so accustomed to the heat in California that this feels lukewarm to him.
I tread down the hallway toward the panel. The only light illuminating the space is seeping in from the windows of the main living area.
Manhattan never fully shuts down, so there’s always some degree of muted light when you gaze out a window, even in the dead of night.
I suck in a breath as I stare at the panel. I remember Drake saying that if you tap the screen, it will illuminate in the darkness.
I jab a finger into the middle of the screen.
The blare of loud classical music sends me stumbling back two steps. “Oh, fuck,” I mutter.
I tap the screen again to stop the music. Silence immediately surrounds me. I glance at Case’s room, but the door is still closed.
The screen darkens again before I have a chance to find the button that controls the air conditioning.
“Damn you,” I spit out.
I lean closer. I know there’s a voice-activated feature. Drake proudly showed that off when he ordered it to turn on a football game, and he requested that it preheat the oven even though neither of us was going to cook a thing.
“Air conditioning in the guest room,” I whisper.
Nothing happens.
“Turn on the air conditioning in the guest room,” I say louder.
Still nothing.
I cup my hands around my mouth and direct my voice to the panel. “I need air conditioning in the guest room. Please. Now.”
I stomp my foot when the panel doesn’t light up.
“Screw you,” I seethe. “I’m hot.”
