Chapter 16 Emma
Emma
“Ohmigod, I’m sorry!” I gasped, dropping to my knees for the flashlight, the image of Caleb’s nude body burned into the core-memories section of my mind, never to be forgotten. Good, sweet baby Jesus, I’d known he was incredibly fit, but nothing had prepared me for the sight up close and personal.
I mean, fully clothed, he could make a grown woman walk into walls.
Naked, he was a walking, talking cardiac arrest, and I was halfway there.
He was all powerful shoulders and upper arms with that dark ink I wanted to memorize—with my tongue.
Then there were his mouthwatering abs, and let’s not forget that vee of muscles that some guys had, which was basically an arrow leading down to his—
“Em?”
I slapped my hands over my eyes. “Huh?”
“You okay?”
I sneaked a peek through my fingers and stopped breathing. “You’re naked.”
“Good to know that at least one of us doesn’t need glasses.”
My laugh was pure nerves because my eyes had locked on heavy, knotted scars a few shades lighter than his normal skin tone, running the length of his thigh.
Across the dark room came the rustling of clothes, then a wryly amused “safe to look.”
I dropped my hand from my face to find he’d pulled on low-slung black sweatpants and was dropping a long-sleeved T-shirt over his head. I said, “I left my wet clothes in the first downstairs bathroom. Once they dry, I’ll get your clothes back to you.”
“It’s not warm enough in here for them to dry in the next few hours, but please don’t worry about the sweats. They look good on you.”
I snorted as I watched him spread out his clothes. His clothes were so big on me, I probably looked like a child.
“You okay?” he asked, voice still husky low.
“Do I not look okay?” I asked, twirling in a circle like a princess, gesturing to my wet and wild hair and his oversize sweats.
“You look…” He gave a slow shake of his head. “You going commando in my sweats is my new favorite thing.”
I let out a shocked laugh. “How do you know I’m commando? There’s almost no light, and these sweats are thick.”
“God-given talent.”
I opened my mouth to ask if he needed something to drink, but my mouth had other ideas.
“Why do you have a tramp stamp of a truck on fire?” I winced at my intimate question, but I really wanted to know.
All his other tattoos flowed easily into one another on his arms and shoulders, clearly well-thought-out.
The truck at the small of his back didn’t fit the theme.
He swiped a hand down his face, covering a rough laugh. “You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, now I most definitely want to know.”
He sighed. Sighed. “On Tucker’s twenty-fifth birthday, the two of us lost a drinking game to Ryder after he drank us under the table. Literally.”
I gave him the go-on gesture.
“Losers had to either perform an embarrassing public stunt or get a tattoo of Ryder’s choosing. Tucker went first, picked the stunt. He had to busk in front of the Bufford Hotel, with a guitar and everything. And trust me when I tell you he can’t sing. Or play the guitar.”
I snorted. “And you?”
“Well, after that, I sure as hell wasn’t going to pick a stunt.”
I laughed. “But why a flaming truck?”
“It was in honor of Lucy, a woman I’d dated twice and then…”
“Ghosted?” I asked in amusement.
“Yeah.” He blew out a breath. “Lucy was arrested setting my truck on fire.”
I laughed so hard, I almost fell over.
He bore it graciously, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth as he said, “So happy my past pain brings you a little joy.”
“More than a little.”
He moved toward me, not stopping until his chest nearly brushed mine. Slowly, he lifted a hand and cupped my jaw, rasping his thumb over my skin, eyes locked on mine. “You’re taking this unintended adventure well.”
I shrugged. I’d taken a lot of unintended adventures. “How’s your head?”
“Do you know you always deflect attention away from yourself? It’s a tell. You’re not okay.”
Well, I was a hell of a lot better now with him standing so close, sharing his body heat. His eyes were clearer; his pain had lessened. His mouth was slightly quirked, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from it.
“Emma.”
“Hmm?” Watching those lips move could become an addiction—
A low, rough laugh escaped him, and I licked my lips, an utterly unconscious movement that had his eyes darkening.
My hands slid up his arms—when had I made that decision?—and his settled on my hips, fingers tightening when I kept staring at that mouth I wanted on me.
“Killing me, Em,” he whispered.
“But not a bad way to go, right?”
He made a purely masculine sound, I made a sound of my own, and then I had no idea who moved first, but our mouths connected in a heated, heart-stopping, bone-melting, delicious kiss.
With a rough groan, he pulled me hard into him, one hand fisting in my hair, the other stroking up and down my back, farther each time, until he had a palmful of my butt, his fingers squeezing—
His phone beeped.
We broke apart, and I didn’t know about him, but my heart was threatening to secede from the United States of Emma, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
He ran a hand over his already-tousled hair and let out a long, slow breath, glancing at his text. “Lightning took out a power bank. We’re without electricity until tomorrow, at the soonest. I’ve got to check on some things.” He tightened my grip on my flashlight. “Stay inside.”
Okay, so we were back to orders. On top of that, we weren’t going to discuss the kiss that had rocked me so thoroughly, I was still wearing goose bumps.
Noted. Or the fact that I could see either he had a gun in his pants or he was hard as stone.
Good. I hoped it was uncomfortable as hell.
“You really should rest some more and let the meds continue to do their job.”
“They did.” He tossed me a sleeping bag. “Pick a room to hole up in. Try to get some sleep,” he said over a wind gust that shook the rafters. And me as well, right to my core.
“Caleb.”
He turned back to me, distracted, and I drew a deep breath. “Don’t leave.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“No, I mean…” I hated admitting weaknesses. “Can we stick together?”
He studied me for a beat, then nodded. “Sure. I can check stuff later. Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“The only bed in this place.”
My heart skipped a beat. The attic, where twice now, I’d changed clothes and considered that bed before forcing myself back out to my car rather than do the unethical thing and sleep up there. I knew both times I’d made sure I’d left everything as it was, but I still felt guilty as hell.
***
Caleb
We climbed into the attic, and I stood there, drawing in some air, my head pounding viciously in rhythm with my heart.
Emma slid the duffel bag off my shoulder, spread it out, and gestured to the bare mattress. “Lie down.”
“Bossy Emma,” I muttered and let myself fall onto the bed.
“Bossy doesn’t start with an E,” she pointed out.
“Best I’ve got—” I broke off when those magical healing hands of hers landed on my left thigh, right where it ached like hell. “What—”
“Shh.” Her fingers dug in a little, and an involuntary hiss of pain escaped me.
“Too much?”
I shook my head and closed my eyes as she climbed onto the bed with me, making me hum with pleasure, then pain as she worked old and new scar tissue.
Her touch was an intoxicating mix of knowing pressure on my aching muscles, while also gently cradling my leg against her body, encouraging me to relax.
It felt incredible, so much so that my body decided it was about to get lucky.
Even with the residual migraine, my dick refused to take orders from my brain. “Em—”
“Shh,” she said again, keeping up the incredible pressure exactly where my leg needed it. “Relax.”
I was so relaxed, I was nearly in a coma when she very quietly said, “You like me.”
My eyes stayed closed, but I smiled. “How dare you.”
She snorted. “You do. You let my icy fingers touch yours.”
“Only because you were shaking so hard, it felt like we were having an earthquake.”
“So, it was self-serving?”
“Exactly.”
“Liar.”
“Smart-ass.”
We fell silent for maybe ten seconds. Then she spoke quietly, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt.
“Are you and your siblings close?”
Not what I’d expected, but I knew she’d heard me and Ryder beefing on the jobsite. “If by ‘close,’ you mean we care deeply but also aren’t opposed to trying to kill one another occasionally, then yes.”
She nodded like she understood, but I knew she didn’t have siblings.
I’d met her at orientation for our freshman year of college.
She was smart as hell and often took over group projects so that they’d get done the way she wanted.
I was guilty of letting her do it because I never had enough time to study.
Instead, I played up my athletic status to get out of the work, while teasing her about her control issues.
I was such a dick back then, but there was something about the way she was the only person on campus willing to call me out on my shit, the only one not enthralled by me, that drew me in.
I wanted to talk to her, study with her, ask her out, but she had zero interest, remaining aloof.
She’d pushed me, in the best of ways. But looking back, I realized now that the girl with the big green eyes and smart mouth had been grieving and no doubt feeling devastatingly alone.
And what did I do? I thought only of myself those years, finagling my way through college by using every resource available to me, even though it gave me an unfair advantage.
I’d been such an asshole. I buried my face in her hair, pressing my mouth to the back of her neck. “I lost my mom early too. And yeah, my siblings and I are close. We love one another, but we don’t always like one another.”
“You fight.”
“You’re talking about Ryder, and yeah. We fight. That wasn’t my finest moment, by the way,” I admitted. “Sometimes I get triggered by a certain authoritative tone. I have to remove myself from a situation to process my emotions.”
She twisted to stare at me in surprise.
“What, you think I don’t have emotions?” I teased.
“I think you don’t like to admit to them.”
I shrugged at the truth of that. “My relationship with Ryder is complicated by him also being my boss, but at the end of the day, we always, and I mean always, have each other’s back.
It’s just messy sometimes.” I pointed to a scar on my chin.
“Got this when Tucker put my head through a wall during a wrestling session, which was not permitted, ever.” I tugged the neck of my shirt down to reveal the three scars from when I’d had my shoulder rebuilt.
“Got this when Ryder and I borrowed Hank’s motorcycle and crashed it into the garage door.
Ry was driving, by the way. I wouldn’t have crashed. ”
“Sure of yourself much?”
I shrugged. “I know what I can do and what I can’t.” My biggest can’t currently had her cold-ass feet tucked against my legs, her sweet body within reach.
“Did you ever get to drive the motorcycle?”
“Sure.” I smiled. “After it was fixed and Hank had passed out on the couch.”
She snorted. “Our childhoods were very different.”
My smile faded. “Be happy for that, Emma.”
She searched my gaze for a long moment. “Your childhood wasn’t good.”
“It was not.”
She sat up to look into my face. “I’m sorry.”
“Right back at you.” And that was about as much as I wanted to say on the matter. Ever.
But, in perhaps one of my favorite things about Emma, she took in my expression and nodded. We lay in silence for a few minutes, and I thought maybe she’d drifted off when her stomach rumbled.
She sighed, and I laughed. “The beast is rivaling the storm.”
“Har har.” She sighed again. “I listen to a rain track on my calming app sometimes. A light rain, for white noise. It quiets my brain. But right now, since I haven’t eaten today, the rain just sounds like chicken frying, and it’s making me hungry.”
For some reason, I couldn’t stand the thought of her being hungry, and I sat up. “Wait here.”