Page 50 of Off-Limits Bad Boy
Careful could mean a million things, but I still can’t be sure exactly what he means. “Are you taking her home tonight?” His question pulls me back into reality.
I lift my shoulders. “She asked me to.” The thought of what the invitation can mean has me overheating all over again.
“Make sure she gets home safely,” he says, but there's a look in his eyes that suggests he knows more than he's letting on.
I hate this game of cat and mouse.
“Of course.” The irony stings; the one she needs protection from is me.
“Thanks. And about the other thing...” he says, hesitating. “Don’t tell her.” He claps a hand on my shoulder before turning to go back inside, leaving me alone in the chilly night air with my thoughts.
When I finally make my way back inside, I find Emma at the sink, her hands deep in sudsy water, rhythmically moving from one glass to another. She doesn't see me immediately, she’s so focused.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She startles, a small gasp escaping her lips as her gaze snaps up to meet mine. “You scared me!”
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t mean to startle her, but damn she’s cute when frightened like that.
“I’m fine,” she says.
“Can I help?” I lean against the counter.
Emma's gaze holds mine for a moment longer than necessary. “I’m almost done here,” she says, her voice steady now as her eyes search mine.
She gets back to work and I watch her, the memory of her skin beneath my fingertips resurfacing in my mind.
When the last glass is placed on the shelf, we move toward the exit. Her hand hesitates on the handle, her lip caught between her teeth. “I feel bad asking you to take me home again,” she says, her voice sending a jolt through my system.
“It's no trouble,” I say.
Her eyes lock on mine, and there's a heat there, a heat that tells me that taking her home might just lead to the same outcome as it did last time. But I’m not sure I want to do that again. I don’t like sneaking around. I don’t like this uncomfortable space we’re stuck in. But I don’t know how to fix the situation.
“Thank you.” She blinks and nods her head, the gesture insulating me against the cold of the night.
In my car, I turn on the heat and aim the vents in her direction to warm her up. “How was your night?” I ask.
She flashes me a half-smile that reminds me of the sunrise chasing away the darkness. “Good. I... spent a lot of it thinking,” she says in a playful, lighthearted tone as I drive. “Thinking about you, actually.”
“That sounds distracting,” I say, teasing her right back. It’s too easy, too comfortable with her like this.
She nods with a small dip of her chin and my heart skips; I’m caught off guard by her cuteness. “Oh, it was distracting all right. How was your day?” Her curiosity sounds genuine, and suddenly this mundane exchange shifts to something warmer.
“It was long,” I say, thinking about Alex, the secret we’re keeping, and the lack of response we’ve been waiting for. “But it’s better now.” It's the truth—the first full truth I've allowed myself to say out loud tonight.
She reaches out and takes my hand, bringing it to her thigh in an innocent gesture that sends an unexpected heat through me like I just downed a shot.
And we drive in a companionable silence for a while, not needing words but feeling so very at home.
“Thank you,” she whispers as I pull into her driveway, “for everything.” The words are soft, meant only for me, and they lodge somewhere deep inside my chest and burrow in.
“Emma...” I say, but the barriers between us grow. I think about how mad she’s going to be when she learns I held back the truth - and understandably so - how Alex wants me to keep this secret - though he doesn't have all the information about me and Emma, or how much this secret could cost me - and my voice trails off.
She bites her lip, looking up at her apartment building with hesitation. “Come up?” Her invitation is an echo of every fantasy I've had since the last time, since feeling her beneath me.
A deep breath does nothing to calm me down. “I don't think that's a good idea,” I say, though every part of me screams otherwise.
Her eyes search my face, a silent why written in her features. But she doesn't push me.