Chapter 23 My Favorite View Emmett #2
“I know, baby. And you’ve always been powerless against strong, scary women, haven’t you?
” Her hand sneaks between us, and I drop my gaze to hers as long, slender fingers take a slow stroll toward dangerous territory.
All thoughts promptly exit my head and my mouth runs dry as she finds my crotch, teasing the desperate lump growing between us. “Emmett? I asked you a question.”
“Huh?” I grip her hips, squeezing as she tugs gently at my zipper. “You asked the, uh… What was the…”
“I said you’ve always been powerless against strong women,” Cara murmurs, warm breath tickling my jaw.
She slides my zipper down, slow as fucking molasses, and I have literally zero fucks to give that we’re in the middle of a wedding reception right now.
When she slips her hand inside my pants and squeezes my cock through my boxers, I moan, and she smiles. “Haven’t you, baby?”
What was the goddamn question? I can’t remember. My eyes bounce to hers, and my mouth gapes as she strokes me slowly while we’re pressed together, barely hidden, that half grin on her face every bit as confident as the night we met.
It’s been a week since we talked, only a week since we decided to put a pause on the fertility treatments and focus instead on rebuilding the pieces of us that have crumbled along the way, and it’s been quiet in that slow and steady kind of way, like an endless Sunday morning with nothing to do and nowhere to go.
Cara’s been snuggled into me every free minute we’ve had, gradually stealing back pieces of her confidence here and there, whenever she feels ready.
I’m endlessly proud of her, and it’s hot as balls to watch.
I think that’s why I blurt out “I love you,” not giving a single fuck as it spirals into a whimper when she tugs, so fucking gently.
And then her hand disappears.
Cara steps back, mischief dancing in her eyes as she murmurs, “Excuse me,” and grabs her wineglass. “I’m ready for a refill.” She winks. “I need to loosen up.”
“I’ll fucking loosen her up,” I accidently growl out loud, spinning to watch her ass sashay across this winter wonderland toward the mobile bar truck.
As surreptitiously as I can manage, I stuff my tented briefs back where they belong, hissing as I struggle to move the zipper where it needs to be, not where it wants to be.
“Emmett.”
My hands freeze, and my gaze rises in slow motion, my mind struggling to form a realistic excuse for why my pants are undone, one that won’t get me barred from all future events.
But Olivia’s watery brown eyes are only filled with shame and guilt as she sniffles.
“I’m sorry for how I acted about the McFlurry.
It’s just, weddings make me emotional, and this isn’t just any wedding.
It’s Jennie and Garrett, and they deserve the world.
And also, it’s the hormones. I’m tired all the time, and I can barely move.
Have you seen my ankles? No? Me neither; I haven’t seen them in weeks at this point.
I mean, for fuck’s sake, I’m wearing the most hideous boots I’ve ever seen at my sister-in-law’s wedding, Emmett!
” She hikes up her dress, gesturing aggressively at the boots Carter wears when he’s shoveling his driveway, before straightening and holding up a lone mini chocolate bar to me.
“Anyway, I saved this one for you as an apology.”
My hand isn’t even halfway across the space between us when Olivia yanks the chocolate into her chest, hitting me with a full pout. “Unless you don’t want it?”
I roll my eyes, tugging my zipper up the rest of the way. “You turn into your husband when you’re pregnant.”
She gasps, fists clenching. “How dare you!” I have the sudden overwhelming urge to run, but then her eyes drop, and she cocks a brow. “Emmett, why were your pants undone?”
My hands still. Slowly, I let them fall away from my pants. “Huh?”
“Your pants. You just zipped them up.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Olivia.” I cock my head, leveling her with a look.
“You just cried over me suggesting a McFlurry as a replacement for a Blizzard, and Adam had to calm you down with candy he had stashed in his pocket. Do you think maybe you’re not seeing things clearly right now?
I mean, why in the world would I have my pants undone at a wedding? ”
She opens her mouth to argue with me, then frowns. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I pat her head, following it up with a quick peck on her forehead before I beeline for the bar to escape my guilt over gaslighting Olivia. She’s innocent in all of this, after all.
As I approach the bar, I take a moment to appreciate the sight before me.
Legs straight to heaven and bloodred heels that could kill.
Shimmery, fine black mesh draped over the most impeccable heart-shaped ass, and a slit so high, every person here gets a glimpse of those luscious thighs when she swings a hip out.
Long, thick waves the color of champagne shine like silk as she tosses them over her shoulder, letting them fall down her spine like a waterfall.
Glass of red wine in her hand, back to me as she scrolls through her phone, I can’t help but think back to that night nearly four years ago now, when I snuck into the kitchen and found her alone at the counter after everyone had left.
And I think the exact same thing I did in that moment: That’s my wife.
Her thumb pauses on her phone screen as I move toward her, like she can feel me at her back, feel the way every ounce of oxygen is squeezed from the air as the space between us disappears.
I stop behind her, when there’s nothing more than an inch separating us, and all I can smell is ginger and cardamom, hints of cocoa butter and lime, her perfume and shampoo mixing together in that mind-altering way that makes me feel drunk.
I can’t stop myself from trailing the tip of one finger along her bare shoulder, letting it dance down her spine, catching the tip of a wave and winding it around my finger.
I watch the way her pulse flutters in her neck, listen to her breathing, the way it hitches when my lips ghost the shell of her ear.
“Dance with me, Mrs. Brodie.” I pluck her phone from her hand, slipping it into my pocket, and wrap my fingers around hers.
Cara bites back an amused smile as she lets me haul her to the makeshift dance floor, surrounded by lanterns and twinkling pines. “Do you always take what you think is yours without waiting for permission?”
I bury my smile in her neck as I haul her body flush against mine. “Always.”
“Mmm. A common criminal, Mr. Brodie.”
“Better to seek forgiveness than permission.”
“I don’t believe you’ve ever apologized for taking my heart all those years ago, and certainly not my panties.”
“Why would I do that? I didn’t think those things belonged to me; I knew they did.”
“Arrogant,” she murmurs, winding my tie around her hand. She tugs, bringing my ear to her lips. “Good thing you have a big cock to back it all up. Perhaps that’s the only reason I stayed. I was dickmatized.”
“Hey, a win is a win.” Gathering her hair in my hand, I lay it over her shoulder, giving me free access to trail a finger down her spine, savoring every single goose bump that pebbles along the way until my palm settles just above her round ass. “This dress is exquisite.”
“I know.”
“Can’t wait to fucking ruin it.”
She laughs, a beautiful, threatening sound. “I’ll make you a deal, Mr. Brodie. If your best bud over there manages to make it through the reception without him or his dog ruining Garrett and Jennie’s wedding, I’ll let you use me however you want when we get home.”
I don’t need a mirror to know that my eyes light like the extravagantly decorated pine trees surrounding us. “However I want?”
“However you want.” Her gaze shifts around the party, and I damn near swallow my tongue when her hand slips between us, squeezing my hard cock.
“I’ll be your good girl, your brat, or your perfect little slut.
On my knees, ass up, or spread and tied.
And you?” A slow, torturous stroke, and when the fuck did these pants get so tight?
“You, big boy, can come wherever you please, as often as you like.” With a gentle pat-pat for my poor, desperate cock, Cara releases me, sweeping the softest of kisses across my lower lip before she steps back.
“As long as you’re willing to bet on your bestie. ”
“Am I willing to—uh, yes. Obviously. Obviously I’m willing to bet on Carter.
He’s not gonna disappoint me.” I huff a laugh, all parts anxious as I scrub a hand over my chest, stopping just short of adjusting myself right here on the dance floor.
Cara’s lower lip slides between her teeth as she tries like hell to bite back her pleased smile.
“Don’t look so arrogant,” I chastise, shaking my finger at her—for what reason, I have no idea.
Maybe it makes me feel better about putting faith in Carter Beckett for anything other than fearlessly leading our team and being clinically obsessed with his wife and daughter.
“You’ve never believed in him. Would it kill you to give him the benefit of the doubt just this once?
Hasn’t he proved himself a loyal, level-headed, mature—”
“A what?” Carter’s screech cuts through the air, and I close my eyes. “No, that’s not… that’s… We can change his name! It’s not too late to change it! We can… we can… Oh my God, I named him after a dildo!”
Truly, there isn’t much I can say.
And any sliver of hope I’d been clutching? It vanishes.
That’s why all I can do is hang my head and sigh.
“FOR THE FIFTH TIME, EMMETT, we are not getting a dog.”
“But why?” I shut the door behind me, collapsing against it. “You loved Bones! Bones loved you!”