Chapter 4 #2
The tentative contact ignites something in me.
I press forward, capturing his mouth more firmly.
His lips are soft, yielding under mine. He tastes like red velvet.
I expected awkwardness, hesitation, the fumbling of someone out of practice.
Instead, he kisses with a focused intensity that takes my breath away.
My hand comes up to cup his jaw. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat—half surprise, half pleasure—and the vibration of it against my lips sends a jolt straight to my groin.
We break apart after a moment, both breathing hard. Emmett’s eyes are wide, his lips parted.
“That was…” he trails off, blinking. “You’re a great kisser. I’ve never…it’s never felt like that before.”
I can’t tell if he’s playing a role, using the techniques I taught him to flatter me, or if he genuinely means it. The uncertainty only fuels the fire building in my veins.
“We should…again,” I say, eloquence deserting me. “For practice.”
We lean in, meeting in the middle. This time, there’s nothing tentative about it. I trace his lower lip with my tongue, and he opens for me. The kiss deepens, turns wet and hot and consuming. My hands find his waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
Emmett shifts closer, his weight pressing me back against the arm of the couch. One of his hands slides into my hair, cupping the back of my head, while the other braces against my chest. The position is overwhelming—his body half covering mine, his warmth seeping through our clothes.
On screen, the Fellowship battles through Moria, but the sounds of swords and creatures fade into white noise compared to Emmett’s breathing, the wet sound of our mouths meeting and parting and meeting again, the thundering of my pulse in my ears.
This is wrong. We’re stepbrothers. This is supposed to be an educational arrangement, not…whatever this is becoming. But when Emmett makes a soft, desperate noise against my mouth, all rational thought evaporates. My hands slide under the hem of his shirt, finding warm skin and firm muscle beneath.
His thigh slips between mine, creating pressure where I need it most. I gasp into his mouth, hips bucking up. He responds by pressing down more firmly, and stars explode behind my eyelids.
We’re both hard—I can feel him against my hip, just as he must feel me against his thigh. The realization should shock me back to reality, but it only fans the flames higher. I want more. I want to see him come undone. I want—
The front door swings open without warning. “Boys! I brought some leftovers from—”
We spring apart like we’ve been electrocuted, scrambling to opposite ends of the couch.
Caroline stands in the doorway, a plastic container in her hands, taking in the scene before her—the candles, the wine glasses on the coffee table, the romantic dinner setup still visible in the background, her son and stepson flushed and disheveled.
For one horrifying moment, I’m certain she saw us. Certain she’s going to drop the container, start screaming, call Dad, ignite a family crisis of epic proportions.
Instead, she smiles. “Oh, you’re watching a movie together! How nice.”
Emmett clears his throat, adjusting his position to hide the obvious evidence of our activities. “Yeah, uh, Lord of the Rings.”
“I can see that,” she nods toward the screen where Gandalf faces down the Balrog. “David and I are heading out tomorrow afternoon. I thought I’d bring these by now. Chicken enchiladas. They’ll keep for a few days.”
She moves to the kitchen, oblivious to the thick tension in the room. Or perhaps she’s deliberately ignoring it. It’s impossible to tell.
“This is so nice to see,” she continues, opening the refrigerator to place the container inside. “You two spending time together.”
“Just…thought we’d hang out,” I manage, my voice strained. “Change things up.”
She returns to the living room, and I might be imagining it, but I think she’s careful not to look at either of us for too long. “Well, I’ll leave you to your movie. David’s waiting in the car—we’re going to dinner with the Hendersons.”
Emmett offers a stiff smile that looks more like a grimace. “Have fun.”
“You boys have everything you need for the weekend while we’re gone?”
“We’re good,” I assure her, willing my voice to sound normal. “Don’t worry about us.”
“I never do,” she says. “Good night, then.”
The door closes after her with a soft click that sounds like a gunshot in the silence she leaves behind. For a long moment, neither of us moves or speaks. The movie continues playing, but the moment—the magic, the madness, whatever it was—is shattered.
Emmett stands up. “I should clean up the kitchen.”
“I’ll help,” I offer, but he shakes his head.
“No need. It’s…it’s fine.”
We stand there, unable to look at each other, the ghost of what just happened hanging heavy between us.
“Emmett, about what happened—” I start.
“It was just practice,” he cuts me off, voice flat. “For Serena.”
The words sting more than they should. “Right. Of course.”
“I’m going to… I should get some sleep.” He gestures toward his bedroom. “I’ll clean up tomorrow.”
I nod, watching as he retreats, leaving the candles burning, the movie playing, the evidence of our almost-something scattered around the room like crime scene markers.
Once he’s gone, I sink back onto the couch, running a hand over my face. I know I won’t be able to sleep any time soon, so I pad into the kitchen and start cleaning up. It’s only fair that I do it after Emmett went all out to prepare the dinner.
I try not to make too much noise as I load up the dishwasher, clean all the surfaces, and take out the trash.
When I’m done, I drag myself to my bedroom. I sprawl across my bed, fully clothed, staring at the ceiling as my mind replays every moment—the softness of Emmett’s lips, the weight of his body against mine, the sounds he made when I deepened the kiss.
My fingers drift to my mouth, tracing where his lips had been. The ghost of his taste lingers—sweet, intoxicating. Wrong.
Sleep eludes me for hours. By the time exhaustion drags me under, one thought echoes in my mind with terrifying clarity: I don’t want to help Emmett seduce Serena anymore. I don’t want him to recreate this evening with her. I don’t want to share what we just had.
I want it all for myself.