Chapter Twenty-One #3
“And she’s still just Ginny,” he said, softer now.
“Still laughing at dumb jokes. Still reading more books in a month than I will in a lifetime. Still building these whole worlds in her games, giving characters voices and backstories — even if hers comes out of a speaker now. Still dreaming about traveling, even if right now that looks a little different than she planned.”
I swallowed, blinking hard. “She sounds incredible.”
“She is,” he said. “I hope you get to meet her one day.”
He said the words so flippantly, as if they wouldn’t send my heartbeat teetering into a chaotic rhythm that would snatch my next full breath.
I knew how much Ginny meant to him, how private he was about his family.
Did he not realize he’d just insinuated that he might want me to meet them one day?
“All done,” he said before my organs could properly freak out.
With a blink, I came back to my body, and Braden helped me stand before guiding me to the mirror Darcy and I had propped against the wall in the living area.
It was where we got the best sunlight for mirror selfies, where we always stopped to pose before heading out the door.
I had a hundred pictures in that spot, in different outfits and my makeup perfectly applied.
But none of them compared to the mental picture I was taking now.
My hair was lovely, two delicate and loose braids plaited perfectly. Braden was saying something about how he could lay my edges if I told him what to do, but his voice was muted.
I was too absorbed in the way we looked standing there together — him behind me, towering, his hands hooked on my hips like it was natural, like I belonged there, like this was inevitable.
The way we were both dressed down made it feel even more intimate than it had when his hands were in my hair.
It was like we lived together, like this was just a cozy rainy day and we were holed up together, cuddling and kissing and fucking the day away.
The thought made me squeeze my thighs together, my eyes locking on his. He was still talking, but my heart was racing faster now, pulse thrumming in my ears.
I wanted to touch him.
I wanted him to touch me.
I wanted to thank him, to use my hands and my mouth in the way I couldn’t use my words, to feel him everywhere I could possibly feel.
“Emily?”
I blinked at my name, the quiet of the room snapping back like someone had plucked a rubber band.
“Did you hear me?”
I shook my head, my eyes flicking to where he still held my hips.
He smirked, resting his chin on my shoulder (he had to hunch to do so).
“I said thank you for letting me in with this injury. I know it’s hard to do.
” He swallowed then, like he just realized how close we were, how I was leaning back into his touch now, how his fingers were tightening their grip on my hips.
“If there’s anything I can do for you… I’m here.
And I don’t mean that in the generic shitty way people say when they don’t actually want to help but want to appear like they do.
I mean it. Groceries. Cooking. Braiding your hair.
A hug.” He swallowed again. Fuck, I loved the way his Adam’s apple jumped in his throat like that. “Anything. I’m here.”
I could have told him thank you.
I could have smiled sweetly and assured him he’d already done enough.
I could have kissed his cheek and walked him out, taking what he’d given so freely without jeopardizing everything for both of us.
Instead, I turned in his arms, holding onto them to make sure he didn’t remove his touch in the process. My hands found the strings of his hoodie, sending little flashes of when he’d fisted his hands in mine traipsing through my memory.
My heart picked up its pace even more.
“Actually, there is something.”
“Name it,” he said, and his voice was gruff, his jaw tight where it was angled down at me.
“I have a bucket list, and I want you to help me with it.”
He frowned, but I could feel how his heart was matching the pulse of mine, how it was thumping hard against his rib cage in anticipation. “I don’t think this is the best time to be going on adventures. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“And I will. This is a different kind of list, and I think now is the perfect time for it, actually.”
“Why do I feel like I’m walking into a trap?”
I smirked, and because I couldn’t help myself, I pressed up onto my toes and licked along his jaw, reveling in the scrape of his stubble against my tongue.
“Em,” he warned, his grip moving from my hips to gently hold my arms. It was like he was torn between restraining himself or hauling me into him for more.
“It’s a naughty bucket list,” I admitted, the words a whisper in the shell of his ear. “All the dirty things I want to try before I die.”
“Em,” he warned again.
I smiled in victory when his cock pulsed against my stomach, already thick and hard under his joggers.
“Come now, Boss. You said anything,” I reminded him with a tease. I slipped my fingers beneath the band of his pants, tugging him closer as he sucked in a stiff, heated breath. “Time to make good on that promise.”