Emerson took it and clinked the edge of the glass against his. “A pinot noir?” she asked, after she’d taken a delicious sip.
“It was what you ordered in The Crimson Room the other night, so I knew it was a safe bet.”
They sat down at the island. One of the things she had loved most about the property was the quiet at night, and beyond the odd scrape of the fork or clink of the glass, they ate in a comfortable, companionable silence.
As she came to the end of her meal, worry started to creep in. He was going to expect her to talk to him, to tell him what had her so wound up. But she wanted to simply exist in the happy silence between the two of them.
“Connor. I know I owe you an explanation. But do you think, just for tonight, we could just go to sleep?”
Connor turned on his stool to face her. He opened the hem of the dressing gown, placing his hands on her knees. The warmth of them grounded her. “As long as you aren’t blowing me off.”
“I’m not,” she assured him. “I want to talk to you about it, I really do. For the first time all day, I don’t feel so stressed…and just thinking about how to explain what’s going on at work is starting to make me feel anxious. I need some sleep and some perspective, that’s all.”
He studied her face for a moment, before nodding. “You go climb into bed. I’ll rinse these off before I join you.”
She should clear up the dishes in her own kitchen, but suddenly her body was bone-tired. Emerson walked to the bedroom, and after a few minutes in her bathroom, climbed into bed.
She was already asleep by the time Connor joined her.
Chapter Six
The rat-a-tat-tat sound infiltrated Connor’s dream, rousing him from sleep.
Was someone hammering something in his building? Was someone trying to bust down a door?
He couldn’t open his eyes. Wherever he was, it was a hell of a lot brighter than his bedroom.
Connor tried to move, only to find his arms were wrapped around a woman.
Emerson.
With a sigh of relief, he pulled her closer, her back to his chest. The sound, he realized, was a woodpecker somewhere outside the open window. They’d fallen asleep before closing the curtains, exhausted from great sex and delicious food.
Sex. Was that all it was to him?
The idea that it meant more unnerved him a little, yet he couldn’t deny the fact that it did. The way she felt as he slid inside her, as she moved and opened up for him. It was so much more than sex. It was the connection he’d felt, the way she’d held his gaze, the way she’d asked him for what she wanted, the fact that for once he felt like he was building something with Emerson, and that feeling had pushed him over the edge.
His dick stirred at the idea of a repeat, especially with that ripe ass of hers pressing against him. And while he hoped that could happen before he left for the day, they needed to talk first.
Trying his best to not disturb Emerson, he pulled his arm from beneath her, grabbed his jeans, and left the room. There was a bag full of workout clothes in the trunk of his car that he could pull clean stuff from later. But for now, he needed coffee.
The kitchen was bright, and from the window he could see what looked like a vegetable garden. There were rows of beds, some with plants still thriving. A greenhouse was positioned off to one side. The rest of the garden was planted simply in shades of green and white. On the patio just outside the door sat a small bistro table.
Thankfully, he noticed a coffeemaker on the counter, and Connor set about making an espresso. He was just making his second shot when Emerson shuffled into the kitchen.
“You scared the crap out of me.” Emerson squinted in the daylight. She pushed her hair off her face. “It took me a minute to figure out what kind of home intruder breaks in to make coffee.”
Emerson made her way to him and stepped into his arms before placing her head against his chest and closing her eyes. “It’s too early to be doing morning yet.”
Connor glanced at the clock on the microwave as he pulled her in close. It was a little after eight. “Believe it or not, usually I’d be up at least three hours by now. I feel like I had an epic sleep-in.”
Sure, he’d be late getting off on his usual Saturday seventy-five-mile bike ride, but his energy level felt boundless. Add in the double-espresso and he’d be good to go.
Emerson lifted her face to his. “We need to talk, don’t we?” she said.
He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled as she scrunched up her face. “We do.”
“Have a seat in the front room while I make myself a coffee.”
Connor wandered into the living room. It was warm and inviting, if a little cluttered for his more minimal tastes. A soft green sofa was stacked with cushions in different fabrics and sizes, but all black or white. White walls were covered in artwork and photographs. And plants hung and sat on every available surface. He thought of Blake and Talia’s plant-filled apartment. Evidently, Emerson and Talia would get along.
Emerson also liked to read…widely. Books on economics and business theories sat next to thrillers, horrors, and books with titles that caught him off guard.
“Best American Erotica?” he asked when Emerson walked into the living room.
“Nothing wrong with reading about sex, Connor,” she said, pulling her knees beneath her on the sofa.
Connor was the opposite of offended. “I never said there was. I’d be more than happy to spend a night on this sofa with you, taking turns reading and possibly reenacting everything between those covers.”
Emerson grinned. “I’d like that, too. We could do that
