Chapter 6
DYLAN
Iwatch Emma carefully while bringing our luggage inside. At her company party, her cheerfulness felt a bit forced. I already know that she’s a quiet, slightly shy person, so I hope she’s not overwhelmed here. I'm going to make a point to construct some quiet time for her to recharge.
"Dylan!" My dad squeezes the life out of me in a bear hug, then turns to Emma and steps back, clutching his heart. "Good gracious. Did a Christmas angel just appear in my living room?"
She laughs, shaking his hand. "I'm Emma."
"Mark. So happy you’re here." He waves his hand around the living room and toward the kitchen. "You're not a guest here, you’re family. Make sure you help yourself to everything." He glances toward me. "Oh, and your mother made up the downstairs suite for you two."
"Perfect. Thanks."
Mom is already puttering in the kitchen, and I know a round of cinnamon cocoa and cookies is imminent.
Emma studies our Christmas tree, then looks down to where a bottom branch is moving.
"That's Sharky," I explain. "Mom's cat. She doesn't really like people very much."
Emma drops to the floor, sitting beside the tree with her hand lazily stretched toward the corner, as if she has no idea a gray cat is anywhere around. It only takes a few minutes of her fingers lazily swishing against the wood floor for a little fluffy face to nuzzle her palm.
By the time Mom arrives with the cocoa, Sharky is in Emma's lap, getting her ears and back gently scratched.
"Well," Mom laughs. "That temperamental cat seems to have a weakness for nice girls." She leans in to whisper to me. ”Sharky loved Sadie immediately, too. It's a sign, honey."
A sliver of hope runs through me. I think back to two years ago, when Josh brought his girlfriend Sadie home for Christmas.
I got the impression they’d barely started dating and were kind of implying they were more serious than they truly were.
But that changed over the course of the holidays, and they were married last year.
Is this yet another sign that Emma could be the one, no matter how our relationship began?
Emma had clearly been stunned that I hired a car to take us to the airport, whisked her through to the first class lounge, and given her the comfy window seat once we boarded.
I’m not sure where her surprise came from: has she never been treated like a princess before?
Never had a man tell her how unbelievably beautiful she is?
And funny, and sweet, and clever? There’s a quickly growing list of things I adore about Emma.
The flight gave us some time to get to know each other.
The most important thing I learned is that I can't wait to know a lot more.
We click on so many levels. Even basic things like work ethic, making time to read every week, and setting a timer so we don't doomscroll for more than ten minutes right before bed.
She’s only twenty-one, but our age difference doesn't seem to matter. Still, I need to be careful. Emma is sensitive. I'm not sure if her life plans include having a six foot three contractor as her partner – even if he is already so obsessed with her he wants to worship her from head to toe.
Every time I think about the fact that we might be sharing a bed tonight, my pulse begins to pound in my ears.
After a final round of cocoa and cookies, and Emma insisting that it's too late for her to eat sandwiches, we finally slip downstairs to the guest suite.
"Wow, this is fantastic," she says, looking around the bedroom done in various shades of green. “Most people have a guest room as an afterthought. This is really nice."
"Emma." My arm automatically circles her waist, pulling her close.
"We haven't discussed sleeping arrangements.
I'm fine taking the couch upstairs. Or if we want to sell the story that we've been together for a few months, I’m happy to sleep in here, but on the floor. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
She reaches up to lightly drag her palm along my stubble, and her eyes sparkle as she smiles. “I don't know why, but I'm very comfortable with you. I'm sure we can share a bed and just…you know. Be comfortable together. You know?"
"Sure."
She goes into the bathroom to change, and I strip down to my black boxer briefs and slip into bed.
When Emma returns, my heart begins to slam roughly in my chest. She's wearing a pink tank top with no bra underneath, and baggy shorts in a pink and white rose print.
Her hair is up in a messy bun, and her face is still faintly flushed from washing it.
She's completely natural. Totally relaxed. And so sexy I can't tear my eyes away.
The curve of her hips and line of her thighs make my cock thicken. Her breasts are the perfect size to fit in my hand if I spread my fingers wide. I’m wondering how the hell I’ll be able to get that image out of my mind when I catch her staring at me.
Emma is checking me out just as much as I am her. Her gaze roams across my shoulders and down my chest before meeting mine again. There’s a gleam in her eyes that says she likes what she sees.
She slips into bed with a sweet smile. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"No ghost. More like a Christmas angel." I hold out my arm, inviting her to slide in close beside me. She does, cuddling against me under the covers.
"At least I won't have to worry about being cold down here in the basement," she laughs as her hand drags down my bare chest. "You're like a furnace."
"Is that a good thing?"
"Oh, for sure. I like it." Emma snuggles against me, then lifts her chin again. "Dylan, thank you so much for helping with that problem at my work." Damn, I love the way her fingers gently wander back and forth across my pecs. Love that she's comfortable touching me like this.
"I really like my job, and it was the one thing about it causing me stress. Now, it's like a switch has been flipped. It's like I'm free."
"I'm very glad." I run the heel of my hand slowly up and down her spine. "I hope I didn't overdo it with the proposal thing. I just went with my gut.”
She giggles sweetly. "No, it was perfect! Honestly, it was inspired.”
"I heard Lacey bitching about you, and just couldn't stand it." My free hand drops to her hip, caressing gently. "Emma, is it wrong that I feel…protective of you already? Maybe possessive, too?"
Her lovely eyes grow wide. "How do you mean?"
I take a slow breath. "Listen, I don't want to cross any lines.
If you want to stick to our original plan, just get through this family holiday and then go our separate ways, that's fine.
But Emma…" My hands squeeze her gently as I pull us closer together.
"Every single inch of my body craves yours. If this is too much too fast, or you don’t feel it too, just say—"
"I feel it too." Her words come out in a rush, as her hand lifts to caress my stubble again. "I'm just nervous because I've never…I mean…I don't know how—"
"Kiss me," I growl. "Kiss me like you mean it."