“Poker night again soon?” Connor asked.
“Sounds good to me. Now fuck off.”
Half an hour later, after doing speeds that would have landed him with some serious tickets, he pulled up outside Emerson’s house. It was a pretty timber-and-stone-fronted single story on a decent-sized lot. There were several apexes to the roof and a large bay window to what he assumed was the living room. The living room appeared to be lit by the flickering light of candles.
He knocked on the door and looked to the sky while he waited. Dark clouds skittered across the moon. When Emerson answered, he was glad he’d made the trip. She was dressed in navy sweatpants and a gray T-shirt that had the faded look of a top well-worn. It was impossible to miss the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra, but he forced the thought to the back of his mind. Her damp hair was up in a messy bun.
“I brought us dinner,” he said, lifting the bag.
A sad smile graced her lips for a moment. “I’m not really good company.”
Connor knew she was giving him an out, and he’d be the first to admit that in the past he might have taken it. Comfort and care were not his specialties. But this was Emerson, and he really wanted to be there for her. “You don’t have to be good company. I brought food. We can eat in front of the television. Or read. Or nap on the sofa. Or we can talk if you want to tell me what is going on.”
Emerson sighed and let him pass. He pressed a kiss to her cheek as he walked by.
From the wide cream hallway crammed with plants, he could see the kitchen. The cabinets were old and in need of updating, but Emerson had decorated it with old farmhouse-style tin jugs and red-and-white polka dot fabrics. The cast iron oven looked brand new. He placed the food and bottle of wine he’d added to the order on the kitchen island.
“Thank you,” Emerson said quietly as she walked into his arms. Her body pressed up against his, her head pressed into his shoulder. It felt right…it felt perfect. She sighed, and he felt her body relax, as if a coiled spring had been released.
He ran one of his hands along her back and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Silence filled the room.
Emerson’s hands gripped his shirt.
Neither of them moved. Connor felt more grounded, more present, than any of his daily meditations made him feel. He was aware of her body pressed against his in comfort, rather than anything sexual.
Finally, Emerson lifted her head. “I’m glad you came, Connor.”
The softness around her eyes told him she was telling the truth. The tension he’d seen in them when he’d arrived had concerned him.
“I meant what I said. We can eat, we can chat, we can nap. Whatever you want.”
Emerson bit her lip. “Is there anything else on offer?” she asked, her voice softer, huskier than normal.
His dick got with the plan before his brain kicked into gear. He placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb caressing her smooth skin.
Hell, yes, she could have whatever she needed from him, and as her hand slid just an inch beneath the waist of his jeans, her meaning became crystal clear.
“Emerson, I meant what I said. We can do whatever you want. I came here because I was concerned about you. And if us taking it a step further is what you need from me, I’m here for that. But I don’t want you to think I came here for sex.”
Expectation glittered in her eyes. “I know. And I didn’t think it was what I wanted, either. But you. Coming here, caring about me, caring about how I am. Even the feel of you against me, right now, does something to me.”
He lined her body up against his before spinning them around so her back was against the island. Slowly, he ground his dick against her as he pressed his lips to hers for a moment that was too intoxicating. “You do something to me too,” he growled. “But before I continue, I need you to understand two things. The first is I don’t need to know what happened today before we do this, but I expect you to talk to me after. And the second is I’m not doing this if you tell me that I’m just a distraction, even though my cock will not forgive me tonight. Our first time together needs to mean more to you, to us, than that.”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Fuck. Where had this responsible grown-ass man come from? Why did he suddenly have to be the knight in shining fucking armor when he had a willing woman…no, a willing Emerson…ready to ride his dick into the sunset?
Emerson reached for the buttons on his shirt, her eyes on his. Slowly, she opened every one and tugged the edge of his shirt from his jeans. “I promise to talk with you if you stay. And you are a distraction. How could you not be, Connor? Just your presence is a distraction.”
She ran her fingertips over the ridges of his abs, and he tightened them in automatic response. He daren’t watch her hands’ trajectory, knowing it would threaten his control and good intentions.
“This is a distraction,” she said, pressing a kiss to one pec, followed by the other. Her hand slid lower, running her fingers over his rock-solid dick. “And this is most definitely a distraction.”
He watched her lips as she spoke, full and soft, taking in every word. For a moment, he’d let her think she was in control, but once they got into her bedroom…
“But it’s more than all that. I just want you, Connor. I’ve been thinking about this since the night at The Crimson Room, perhaps even sooner if I’m honest.”
“So, we’re doing this?” he asked, reaching for the hem of
