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“Turn around, Burt,” she whispers.
I spin around without thinking. The palms of her hands grace my cheeks, pulling them down until our lips are touching. I should be shocked. But instead, I move my tongue against hers as if I’ve waited a whole lifetime to kiss her. Even with the mustache in the way, the sensations which barrel through me are foreign. I’ve kissed many women in my lifetime, but none that make me question my entire life as much as this moment.
It could be seconds, yet it feels longer. Her tongue pressuring mine in a forceful wrestle that leaves my cock stirring inside my pants.
Fuck. We shouldn’t be doing this.
I pull back, holding her arms at bay. “Emmy, we can’t do this. Look around…” I motion my eyes to the paparazzi who begin walking toward us, phone in hand and looking equally annoyed for taking up his precious time.
She takes it from him, giving thanks before opening her mouth. “Just live a little, Burt. I bet all you do is play soccer then go home and watch porn, then wake up and play more soccer.”
Confused by her mention of porn, I furrow my brows and purse my lips waiting on a further explanation which never eventuates.
“Yeah, I live and breathe soccer. I do watch porn on occasion but the real thing is much better.”
“And, I bet you don’t have time for relationships?” She stands tall, straightening her posture as if she has a hidden agenda.
I don’t want to mention Louisa. It’s still a wound that’s fresh and open, and not up for discussion by anyone. “What’s your point, Chase?” I ask, annoyed.
“We’ve always had fun together even when we hated each other, right?”
I nod, waiting for her to continue.
“So, let’s have fun, Burt. No strings attached, I promise. I don’t need strings... trust me. I just don’t want to think about anything but the moment I’m living in, and if you happen to be there... well, then hip hip, hooray.”
“You want to have fun without strings?” I repeat. “Is that what you’re saying?”
This time, she smiles. “Yep.”
In a lifetime full of propositions, I’ve never expected Emerson Chase to propose something like this. She’s hurting, drunk on revenge, and out to make Wesley’s life equally painful. I know that I’m not stupid. I’m the pawn in her game and when she’s done playing, I’ll be on the sideline watching her live her life with someone else.
I need her. Regardless of her conditions.
Keep the emotions away, take what you want, and reap the benefits from the scorned.
“On one condition,” I tell her, plotting it out so I get what I want. “You stop calling me Burt… and this mustache needs to go.”
“Deal. But it stays on until we’re back at your hotel.”
“Hotel...” I repeat, caught off guard.
Running her hands along the front buttons of my shirt, she looks up at me with fire in her eyes. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear enough, and maybe I underestimate your ability to read between the lines, Carrington…” She pauses, lowering her voice. “Sex. Fucking. That’s what I’m talking about. Are you in?”
She wants me as much as I want her.
There are no more questions, no more rules, no more anything.
I’m in—all in.
Chapter Thirteen
“A fuck buddy. The best idea ever,
or a recipe for disaster?”
~ Emerson C
hase
