Chapter 11 All Dressed in White Cara
Two and a half years ago: Happy birthday; here’s my hand in marriage
“THEY’RE GONNA FUCK.”
“Of course they’re gonna fuck, Emmett!” I round on him the second we step onto Carter’s front porch, locking his door behind us.
“You think I don’t know that? I saw the look in Ollie’s eyes!
Hungry for cock, that’s what that look said!
” I make to angry-stomp my way to the Uber waiting in the driveway, but my heel slips on the last step, and I shriek. “Emmett! I’m going down!”
He snicker-snorts—he’s drunk as fuck—but manages to catch me with an arm around the waist. Instead of putting me back on my feet, he hoists me up to his armpit, carrying me like a fucking basketball to the car, where he stuffs me in the backseat and climbs in behind me.
“They’re gonna fuck in the bed, they’re gonna fuck in the shower, they’re gonna fuck on the balcony.
” I tick each location off on my fingers, and Emmett watches with the world’s loopiest grin, trying to catch each finger before I move on to the next.
“They’re gonna fuck six ways to Sunday, and frankly, I’d be surprised if he’s not balls deep in my bestie right this second.
” I cross my arms over my chest, knees bouncing.
“Should I call them? I’m gonna call them. ”
“Nooo.” Emmett wraps himself around me like a giant koala. “Leave them be. Let whatever happens happen. Let the chips fall where they may. Let—”
“I got it.”
“I kinda think they’d be good together,” Emmett murmurs, resting his head on my shoulder. “Don’t you?”
Do I think Carter Beckett, notorious womanizer, arrogant himbo, and Olivia Parker, innocent teacher, my best friend, angel, princess, would be good together?
I flop my head over, pouting at Emmett. “I really do.”
He snaps upright, eyes alight, hands clapping. “Right? She’d keep his ego in check and he’d entertain the fuck out of her!”
“He makes her laugh so much, doesn’t he? I love seeing her smile the way she does around him, and then the way she immediately gets all scared because she realizes he makes her happy but she’s supposed to hate him.”
“And he’s obsessed with her but pretends he can’t figure out why.
Like, dude, you can’t stop thinking about her, you bought her a Christmas present, invited her to your house when you never have girls there, and she barely gives you the time of day, but you’re gonna pretend like you don’t have the biggest crush ever? Come on.”
“Emmett, I love Carter with all my heart, I really do, but that man does not have all his crayons in order.”
“Do you mean he’s not the brightest crayon in the box?”
“No, I’d never say that about someone,” I say with a scoff as I climb out of the Uber in our driveway, giving the driver a massive thank-you.
Emmett chuckles as he follows me to our front door.
“We’re gonna have to do so much damage control,” I whine as I stumble inside and collapse on the bench in our hallway. I simply cannot go on at the thought of it all.
Emmett crouches, chucking my heels off, then stands, throwing me over his shoulder in the process. It’s maybe not the best idea—I’ve had one or five too many tequila shots tonight, and my head was already spinning. Now I’m upside down, bobbing along while he trots up the stairs.
“Maybe everything will be fine,” Emmett suggests. “Maybe Carter will get his shit together for real and figure out how to be in a committed relationship, and maybe Ollie will give him a solid chance, and they’ll be patient with each other, and—”
I snort a laugh so loud, so obnoxious, Emmett has to stop on the stairs, lean on the wall, and cling to my ass as he shakes with laughter.
“I held them off from meeting for nearly an entire year,” I say with a pout as Emmett finally drops me on the bed, the two of us rolling around as we try to peel each other’s clothes off. “That’s a miracle in itself!”
“You did so good, baby.”
“It’s just, she’s my best friend, and he’s your best friend, and we need them to, like…” I make scissors with both hands, forcing them together.
Emmett lifts a brow. “Scissor?”
“Fit! Like two perfect puzzle pieces! They need to get along, and I’m afraid one or both of them is gonna fuck it up if they bang.” I collapse on the pillows, one hand over my forehead. “Should we call them?”
“No, baby. They’re adults. Let them figure it out. Plus, neither of them is gonna answer right now anyways. They’re definitely banging.” He props himself up above me on his elbows, dropping a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I just wanna fall asleep wrapped around you.”
I poke one bulging bicep. “How are you doing this right now? You drank so much I caught you, Garrett, and Adam sliding down the basement banister.”
He shifts all his weight to one arm, lifting his other so he can flex it. “Muscles for days, baby.”
I flop my limbs around like noodles. “I feel like a turtle who fell on her shell and can’t get up.”
“The most gorgeous, drunk turtle I’ve ever seen.” He sweeps the tip of his nose across mine before dropping a soft, slow kiss to my lips. “Let’s go to sleep, sweetheart.”
“But it’s your birthday.” I push my lower lip out as far as it goes. “I need to give you a birthday BJ.”
“You gave me a birthday BJ in Carter’s hallway closet an hour ago,” he reminds me.
“There’s no such thing as too many birthday BJs.”
Emmett laughs but rolls off me, tugging me into his side, where I wrap myself around his warm body. “Plenty of time for that after we get a few hours of sleep.”
Sliding my palm over his chest, I close my eyes as I listen to the rhythmic, happy beat of of his heart below my ear. It matches my own. “Happy birthday, baby.”
“Happy New Year, firefly. Last year was the best year of my life because I spent it with you. I can’t wait to spend all of them with you.”
MY FACE IS WARM WHEN I wake up, early morning sun streaming through the open blinds, kissing my skin.
I’m a mess of limbs and tangled blankets as I roll over, reaching out to feel the other side of the bed.
It’s empty, but it usually is. Emmett’s always been an early riser, something I’ve learned to love.
How can I not, when at least three times a week my alarm is replaced by his head between my legs, coaxing me awake with the gentle lap of his tongue as he eats his most important meal of the day?
He seems to have skipped his meal this morning, but the smell of coffee nearby tells me he’s still taking care of me the way he likes to. I sit up, finding a steaming mug on my bedside table, next to a note.
Morning, firefly.
I met you a year ago today, on my birthday and New Year’s Day.
A new year, but with you, it felt like a new beginning.
I have almost every single thing I need and want in this life, except one thing.
For my birthday, I’m going to take it. Enjoy your coffee, and then head to the closet to put on your pajamas.
P.S. You’re gorgeous when you sleep.
“What the fuck is this?” I mutter to myself, a giddy feeling brewing in my belly as I look from the note, to the coffee, to the closet.
Honestly—and I never, ever say this, but—fuck the coffee.
I take a sip—it’s perfect—then leap out of bed, dashing to the closet.
Laid out over the plush round ottoman in the center of the room is a brand-new nightgown.
I throw it on without hesitation, admiring the dusty-pink silk, the slit up the front of my right thigh, all the way to my hip, the champagne-colored lace lining the hem and the deep V of cleavage, the delicate straps that criss-cross over my back.
There’s a matching robe, floor-length and gorgeous, and when I stick my hands in the pockets, I find another note.
Is it fucked-up that I thought about installing cameras in here while I was laying this out?
The only thing I love more than watching you get dressed is you.
Bet you didn’t even drink your coffee like I told you to, huh?
You know bad girls get punished. In fact, you get punished so often, we have to keep toys in the kitchen so we’re always prepared when trouble arises.
I’m halfway out the door to our bedroom by the time I finish the last sentence, stopping short when I realize I haven’t brushed my teeth.
“Shit. Fuck. Stupid… morning breath…” I squirt out way too much toothpaste, shifting impatiently at the counter while I brush my teeth for two entire painstaking minutes. “Not today, floss,” I call over my shoulder, sliding into the hallway, footsteps thudding on the staircase. “Not today!”
I really, really wish I could stop and appreciate the gorgeous breakfast laid out on the kitchen table. Genuinely, I wish I could. Instead, I head straight for the drawer where we keep a handful of toys.
It started as a joke. We filled up our toy drawer in our bedroom the day we moved in, and needed a place for the rest. One day, I was moody and being a brat, as one does, and Emmett asked if I needed the attitude fucked out of me.
I asked if he knew anyone who could do the job, and two minutes later he had me on the kitchen counter, my wrists tied to the cabinet handles behind my head, knees bent and feet propped up so I couldn’t move, spread wide right there in our kitchen, and he edged me for nearly two hours before I was allowed to come.
I sobbed like a baby. It was life-altering.
Anyway, since I refused to limit my bratty activity to only the bedroom, Emmett joked that we should keep some toys in a drawer in the kitchen.
Could we have just bought a bigger drawer in the bedroom, you ask?
Mind your fucking business.
I yank open the drawer, gasping when I find it empty, save for a pair of white panties, a vibrating butt plug, white with a sparkling diamond on it, a white silk blindfold and several white silk ties, and another note.
I’ve been dying to see you all dressed in white, firefly.
Put on the panties, because I know you didn’t bother with any upstairs.