Page 28 of Off-Limits Bad Boy
Anger wars with the unfamiliar fluttering in my stomach. I want to lash out, to accuse him of lying. He's my brother's best friend, the man with a reputation that would send any sensible girl running. But here I am, heart tripping over itself, drawn to him like I've never been drawn to anyone else.
“Don’t lie to me,” I whisper, but the statement almost sounds like a question.
“I’m not lying,” he says, his eyebrows lifting as he scoots in even closer to me.
His hand comes up, fingers warm and rough as they brush my cheek. The touch sends a shiver down my spine, a spark jumping from his skin to mine. I lean into his hand, closing my eyes, as my brain obviously vacates my head for the space of a few minutes at least.
Kade's thumb caresses my skin. My resistance crumbles under the weight of our shared desire, the chemistry that's been building for longer than I want to admit.
“Emma Riley,” he says my name like a prayer.
In the charged silence, with his hand on my face and his dark eyes searching mine, something shifts. I'm no longer just Alex’s little sister or the girl who fights him on every decision. I'm Emma, standing in front of Kade, feeling wanted in a way I've never felt before.
“Don’t touch me.”
Kade's hand drops from my face like it's scorched as the words leave my mouth and aim for his heart. He steps back, a muttered curse leaving his lips.
“I won’t.”
The sudden cold that replaces his warmth should bring me peace, but my mind scrambles to process the shift. “Good.” My voice cracks, betraying the confusion that wraps around me like a fist.
“You’re right,” he says, leaving me wondering what he means. He runs a hand through his hair, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I shouldn't be doing this.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said to me.” The words are ice cold, but he doesn't seem to notice.
“Just... go home, Emma.” His voice sounds like he doesn't want to see me anymore, but his eyes are begging me to stay. It’s confusing, and I hate it.
I swallow hard, tasting bitterness. My feet move before my brain gives them permission, carrying me away from him, away from the office he’d wheeled and dealed my brother out of.
The club is a blur of motion and noise as I storm out. I shove through the throng of bodies lost in their own worlds as the pulsating music vibrates through my bones. The music is loud enough I can’t hear my thoughts, and I thank the universe for that small blessing.
“Hey, Em!” I hear Alex’s voice in my ear as he touches my shoulder. He gestures behind the bar, sleeves rolled up, an easy smile on his oblivious face. “Grab a towel, will ya? Help me dry these—”
I pull away and keep walking.
“Emma, wait!”
But I'm already past waiting, past hearing, past caring.
I shove open the club's door, stepping into the cool night, the urge to disappear nearly overwhelming me.
Chapter Twelve
Kade
The door to my office slams open with a force that makes me glance up from the documents cluttering my typically-neat desk.
Alex strides in, his expression a mix of concern and confusion that I know all too well. Well, I guess this also isn’t the time to talk to him about the troubling news I’ve uncovered.
“Kade, what the hell happened with Emma?” His voice is angry, almost accusing, as he plants his hands on my desk, leaning forward in a dominating, threatening posture I don’t appreciate. But I’ll let it go, this time.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don't know.” Except, maybe I do. I drop my hand and meet his gaze squarely. “She's probably pissed we hooked up her place with that security system without telling her.”
Alex frowns, clearly not getting why that’s a potential problem. How does he manage to get dressed in the morning? “But we're just trying to look out for her. To keep her safe.”
“Try explaining that to a fiercely independent woman.” I lean back in my chair, feeling the weight of the situation settle on my shoulders, even though I’d just gone along with Alex’s plan in the first place. This is why I’m not a yes man. The last thing I want is Emma thinking I'm some controlling jerk, but it may be too late for that.
“Right,” he says, his shoulders drooping as he exhales sharply. He runs a hand through his hair. “I'll talk to her.”