Chapter 10 #2
I stir the sauce, making sure it’s done before turning off the burner.
Checking the clock on the microwave, I realize that it’s been well over half an hour since I left her.
I’m sure the water has gone cold by now, yet I don’t hear any movement in the distance, causing me to freeze as red flags wave in my head.
I push away the panic that climbs up my throat, reminding myself that she’s a strong, independent woman who’s fully capable of bathing herself.
But as the seconds tick by with not a single sound other than the blood pumping between my ears, I can’t stop myself from investigating.
As quietly as I can, I pad toward the bedroom, deciding to play it cool in case she’s still relaxing.
I stop at the bed, turning down the comforter and stacking the pillows just like she likes them, before scanning the room in search of the one thing I know will make her feel better.
My eyes lock onto the heating pad cord as it hangs from the top drawer of the nightstand, haphazardly shoved in there without a care.
I guess some things never change, because Stella has always operated best in organized chaos.
Her belongings may be out of place, but she always knows where they are.
I round the mattress, reaching for the drawer and pulling it open.
But what dangles over the edge is definitely not a heating pad, but the charger to one of about fifteen vibrators.
My eyes go wide, mouth drying as I pore over the sight.
My head is telling me to back away—that this is none of my business—while my dick begs to differ, practically daring me to run my fingers over them.
She’s the only one who lives here, so I know they’re all hers, and it’s safe to say every one of them has been inside her.
Fuck. I miss sex with her. Exciting, passionate, meaningful sex.
I’ve obviously had other partners, but none of them could ever hold a candle to Stella.
Her body has changed a lot since the last time I touched it, but the new curves and softness only turn me on more.
Imagining her lying in here, her full hips rotating as she chases her own pleasure, has me forgetting all the animosity between us while precum leaks into my boxer briefs.
It’s like all rational thought has left my brain, replaced by the desperation to touch something that’s been inside the paradise I can only dream about these days.
I reach out, my hand slowly lowering into the drawer and ghosting over the pink dildo that lies front and center.
It’s on top, so I can only hope there are remnants of her arousal still lingering on the shaft as I drag my fingertips up its length.
My cock is like a lead weight between my thighs, every drop of blood in my body moving south and making me throb painfully with need.
And just as I’m about to lift the toy—for God knows what fucking reason since I can barely even remember my own damn name right now—the bathroom door swings open, and Stella emerges wearing only a towel.
I yank my hand back like it’s on fire, but I’m already busted.
There’s no pretending I wasn’t just elbow deep in her toy drawer.
All I can do is stand there, eyes wide in horror, hoping she doesn’t notice the steel spike under the thick fabric of my sweatpants.
“What are you doing?” she says, her shock matching my own as she clutches the towel above her chest. Between her sun-kissed skin that’s still slick with water and the plethora of dildos in front of me, I’m frozen in place until I remember that there’s a logical explanation for all of this.
“I…um…” I rasp, my throat closing around the words. “I was looking for your heating pad. I thought the cord was—”
Her hand shoots up over her mouth, eyes somehow going even wider than before.
“Oh my God! Emmett, get out of my stuff!” I do just that, slamming the drawer shut as fast as I can and almost severing all my fingers off in the process.
Her face is flushed, not sure if it’s from her bath or the embarrassment, as her expression pulls tight with anger.
“Did I give you permission to snoop through my private drawers?” Her fingers clench around the towel, and my gaze locks onto the cleavage that peeks out from underneath like I’m some kind of sex-obsessed pervert.
But fuck, she looks good. What I wouldn’t give for the terrycloth to slip down just a few inches, revealing what I already know are the most perfect, blush pink nipples.
Hard, ready, begging to be sucked and bit into.
Godmotherfuckingdammit. Now my dick is even harder.
“I— No,” I answer, shaking my head rapidly to erase the thought and moving my stare to the wall behind her.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to help. I wasn’t expecting—” I motion toward the drawer, not saying another word, because if I don’t stop thinking about her vibrators, my cock is going to punch a hole right through my pants.
“Well, thank you, but I don’t have one,” she says, her tone a touch softer now that my explanation has had time to settle in. I take a chance, bringing my attention back up to her as her shoulders relax slightly. “A box of my stuff got lost in the move.”
I nod in understanding, the air around us growing thick with silence.
I hate that it’s awkward, but this is what she wanted—a clean break.
And now, here we are…broken. But I can’t just leave her alone when I know she’s struggling.
Regardless of where we stand, I hate seeing her in pain.
There was a time, before she left me, when I’d have crawled across hot coals if it meant she wouldn’t have to feel even an ounce of discomfort.
And as much as I’d love to say that part of me doesn’t still exist somewhere under all the anger I’m harboring from how we ended, I just can’t.
“Why don’t you put some pajamas on and lie down?
I’ll finish your dinner and be back in a few minutes,” I urge quietly.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes as I hurry toward the door, giving her privacy to get dressed.
As soon as I’m in the hallway, sure she can no longer see me, I release a sharp exhale, my hand shooting up to massage my chest because it feels like it’s caving in.
I fucking hate all of this. I should’ve been here all along, making sure she was taken care of.
Rubbing her back and feet. Taking trips to the grocery store for whatever snacks she was craving.
Telling her how beautiful she looked every time she worried about being too bloated to get out of her sweatpants.
That was the future we were meant to have—not this bullshit where we’re as good as strangers, uncomfortable energy crackling between us like we never existed at all.
I just wish that walking away was as easy for me as it seemed to be for her all those years ago.