Chapter 25
Miles
I smell her before I see her.
Emma’s scent has been recessed deep in my memory for longer than I care to admit. She hasn’t changed her perfume in the fifteen years I’ve known her. Right now, her cedar fragrance with hints of floral is charging down the short hallway to the room that’s been my office since I started at nine. I was in the middle of concocting a plan to see her when Rebecca, one of the interns, messaged me to say I had a visitor.
Emma beat me to our reunion, and I’m not mad about it.
The air shifts when she reaches the open door and knocks like I’m not already staring at her. Lorenzo’s office isn’t the smallest suite on the floor, but this shit has me looking like the dad from The Incredibles , squeezing my ass into this space they call a conference room.
“You coming in, or do you need an escort?” My voice lures Emma out of whatever trance she put herself in eyeing me in my suit. I don’t always wear one, but a brother cleans up nicely.
I stand and button the dark gray blazer over a white dress shirt. Her eyes rake over my tailor-fit pants, moving down to my brown oxford shoes. My tongue darts out at her turquoise suit. It’s a bold choice, one she pulls off without effort. Her high-waisted pants mold to her waist and toned legs, and the spaghetti-strap crop top in the same fabric shows a sliver of her amber skin above her belly. Once-curly hair cascades off one shoulder in thick waves.
“We need to talk.” A brow arches in wait until I nod and shut the door behind her.
She takes the seat on the opposite end of the conference table, capturing my nostrils in the process with that damn perfume. I adjust myself and steeple my fingers on the table when I sit.
Her chin lifts. It’s subtle. A gold chain dangles between her cleavage, flickering in the light. “I have a proposition.” She mimics my hands on the table, showing off a pink manicure that matches her lips.
Flanked between the US and California flags, Emma looks ready to give a State of the Union address. I motion for her to continue.
“It’s clear there’s an attraction between us,” she says, studying my reaction with narrowed brows. “I’m willing to explore it while you’re here.” Aka, you want this dick . “Provided we establish a few ground rules.”
Interesting.
“What do you have in mind?”
She wets her lips and sits straighter. “You move in, and we make ourselves available to each other.”
“ You want to live together? The same woman who said no chance in hell?”
“I want unlimited access to sex,” Emma says. “We had a test run in Milan after you moved yourself into my suite for the week. We’re adding a few more nights in this case, and changing locations.”
She’s not wrong.
“Keep going,” I encourage.
“No spending the night in the same bed.” No complaints here . “Fridays are open for us to use as we see fit.”
Say what now?
“You’re cool with other sexual partners?” I ask for clarification.
“Are we exclusive, Miles?” The question is a challenge, one that reminds me this arrangement is purely to fuck and nothing else. Unlike other women, Emma isn’t fishing for a commitment.
The stare I drill into her triggers a swallow. Emma shifts slightly in her seat, which is all I need to know. Bullshit. “Fridays open,” I repeat and throw in, “in case we get bored.”
I want to smirk at her glower but hold it in. I won’t call her out. I haven’t thought about another woman since we linked up in New York, and I bet Emma isn’t itching to fuck on anyone else, either. This dick is enough to propel her to the next century just like her pussy has me humming ballads for no damn reason.
“Agreed.” Emma’s temper flashes in her tone, cool and demanding. There’s my kitten. “I would also like to maintain the facade of a relationship during political outings with my father when he comes to California. They will be few and far between. By the time they’re through, your time in Los Angeles will be up, and we’ll go back to the way things were before.”
Emma’s proposal is a lot to take in. Sex without strings is how I operate, but living together? Shit, I have to think about that.
There hasn’t been a woman to keep my interest or make me picture a life with her in it. Em already proved the first part to be a lie, but there’s no way she goes two for two. Living together makes a hemorrhoid look like a good time. I don’t commit—never have, and never will.
Back to unlimited sex.
“You’re willing to open your home to me?”
“For fucking, not companionship, Miles. Sex, that’s all it is. You’ll have your own room and bathroom. We’ll share common spaces. I’m sure it’s better than the hotel you’re in.”
“I’m not in a hotel.”
“Oh.” Emma’s shoulders tense. She nods and smooths her hands over her suit. “We can take—”
“Leave it, and I want one date night a week.”
The words fly out my mouth before I have time to process what the fuck I said. Emma and I are similar. We want pleasure without the hassle of emotions. Yet here I am, requesting more time to get to know her beyond her body while living in her house.
Emma Douglass not only has my attention, she’s got me questioning how I’ll walk away when the time comes.
Her stare holds a million questions. “That’s…doable.” She clears her throat. “You can move in tonight if you want. My doors operate by keypad. I’ll give you the code.”
“I don’t have much, but I can come through after work. What day are we having our date this week?”
Surprise registers on her face before she gives a nod. “I’m open.”
“Good. We’ll start tonight.”
Moss-green eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
“Now who would’ve thought a date would spark that reaction and not you asking me to live with you?” I fold my hands over my lap and chuckle. “Isn’t there some event on Friday? We should learn more about each other if we’re pretending to be together.” Zo told me about a fundraiser Emma’s dad will attend. I planned to pull up on her then, but look who surprised me first. And offering her house, no less.
A warning that this is a dumb idea whispers in my head until Emma bites her lip and looks the other way. “How about Wednesday?” Hesitation trembles her voice. “I go back to work tomorrow but can meet you Wednesday around six.”
It will be the first and last time she drives herself when I’m around.
We exchange numbers, so I no longer have to leave it up to chance or me breaking federal laws to see her.
Zo pops in as Emma leaves.
“Ms. Douglass, what a surprise.” He extends his hand, his eyes shifting over her frame and then to me with a satisfied grin.
Asshole.
“I came to talk to Miles about a…business arrangement.”
The motherfucker can’t help but cheese. “Ah, yes. Let me not intrude.” He motions to the now open door.
“Actually, I was on my way out.” Emma tugs down her suit jacket. “Miles,” she says to me.
“Emma,” I toss back.
She struts out the office the same way she came in, leaving me with a giddy congressperson who has too much time on his hands.
“Don’t start about that serendipitous shit.” Zo mocks surrender at my pointed finger and rolls his lips to keep from laughing. “We’re spending more time together, or we will. I, um, won’t need your crib after all.”
I get two seconds before Zo cracks up. He contorts his blue suit folding over in laughter, and the interns rush into the conference room to see why their boss lost his fucking mind. Zo barely smiles in public but is always laughing at my expense. The shit isn’t funny. It just saves mileage and gas, when you think about it.
Your excuse for living with Emma is budgeting?
Fuck you too.
I shoo the entire office away and close the door. Zo wipes the tears out of his eyes and parks his foolish ass on the wooden conference room table. His laughter fades, but the tears in his eyes remain.
“Done yet?”
He puts a hand to his mouth and coughs. “Yeah. So how’s that gonna work?”
“What?” I frown.
“You two under the same roof, spending time together and not catching feelings.”
I shrug. “Simple. We come together when we need to come together and go about our business the rest of the time. I don’t plan to be up under her, watching movies and shit. People do these arrangements all the time.”
A situationship, friends with benefits, or whatever. I’m in town; we like to fuck. The end.
“Uh huh,” is all Zo says, prompting me to kick his ass out the conference room once all that cackling starts again. I don’t care if this is his office or not.
Emma and I will catch a cramp before we catch feelings. I like spending time with her when she doesn’t annoy me and will keep my distance when she does. Problem solved.
“Thought I had to send a search party for your ass.”
I grin at Terrence’s dramatics and get on the 10. “What’s good, bro?”
“Enjoying life and this woman finally back home.”
We laugh.
The shit isn’t a joke, but after seven months apart and Justice moving to the other side of Austin, I’m happy they’re happy.
“Glad things are working out.”
“Me too,” he says, grinning like a cornball with that smile in his voice. “What’s new with you? Haven’t heard from your ass in like a week.”
“And that was intentional. I’m not calling you the first Valentine’s Day you’re back with your wife. You probably just now let her up for air.”
Terrence’s laughter fills my rental car. Thought so . “Alright. How’s Cali?”
“Nice. The weather is good. Just got off work.”
“Look at you. Maybe this will keep your ass in one spot for more than two weeks,” he chuckles, like he wasn’t in and out of the country himself. “Did you head over from Jersey?”
“Nah.” My grip tightens on the leather steering wheel. “Had some business to see about in a few spots.”
If T knew Emma and I were fucking, he’d lose it. Any fallout would cause tension that would end with him in the doghouse or catching a stray. Jeopardizing mixed gatherings now that he and Jay are back together would be an issue. We have to be extra careful now that I’m staying at her spot.
“Always on the go,” Terrence chuckles.
“I know you ain’t talking.”
Hair from his goatee bristles against the phone as he scratches his chin. “I’m straight. The right one will keep your ass at home. I won’t lose her again.”
We shoot the shit for the rest of my drive. I pull up to Emma’s garage and park. “Let me let you go. I’ll hit you up later.”
“Enjoy the new spot. Talk soon.”
“Tell Jay I said hi.”
“Will do.”
It’s a short walk from my Audi to the door that separates the main sidewalk from the private entrance. Not one damn camera in sight. I make a note and punch in the code to the keypad. There’s a waist-high gate the same weathered oak color as the wood near the front of Emma’s house. The tiny thing separates the private beach from her front door in concept, but it isn’t a practical security measure. Any serial killer could skip his sadistic ass up the steps from the level below without anyone noticing. The two lights on the side of her house aren’t motion sensor and don’t illuminate the full surface of her patio. The balcony in the back is a straight shot, just feet away, ready for someone to stalk her.
Said serial killer.
A greasy neighbor with a foot fetish.
Rich people don’t put blinds on their windows, like they’re cool with showing off their shit inside their fancy fishbowls. Fuck all that.
Emma is one of many waterfront homes off a road that feeds to the Pacific Coast Highway. Yeah, the view is nice, but how is she keeping herself safe with a Fisher-Price gate, questionable safety lights, and no window coverings? If there’s no security alarm, I’ll kidnap her myself.
A saltwater breeze sweeps over the back of my neck. I knock on the oversized wooden door and wait. I have the code but don’t want to scare Em. Turquoise flashes by the thin window panel before the door opens.
“Why didn’t you just come in?” Emma’s face scrunches, twisting up her pouty lips and pulling her brows up toward her hair. She’s still in her work clothes, minus the blazer concealing the crop top.
“I should’ve the way this setup has you ready for an intruder.” I step past her, careful not to inhale her addictive scent. “Your security measures are shit,” I tell her, toeing off my loafers. “I’ll have everything set up tomorrow.”
“The hell you will,” Emma snaps. “You’re here all of thirty seconds, and you think you’ll turn my house into some Criminal Minds headquarters? Forget it.”
“I was here for ten minutes looking at the bullshit you call security.”
Her arms fold firm into her chest, pushing up the breasts I miss in my mouth. Focus . “I have security.”
My lips twitch. “A nail file?”
“A security alarm, you ass,” she seethes through a scowl. “I have a keypad down here and one in my bedroom. There haven’t been any break-ins or concerns since I bought the place six years ago.”
“It’s getting an upgrade tomorrow.” I already planned to work remote so I could settle in. l’ll spend half the day playing Mr. Fix It.
Emma steps closer, her hands now on her wide hips. Anger sweeps across her face and anchors itself into her rose-tinted cheeks and tightened jaw. We stand toe-to-socks, neither of us bending to concede.
“This is my house, Miles. I won’t have anyone telling me what to do here.” Her voice is low.
I don’t miss what she doesn’t say. I had a front-row seat to witness it. Emma deals with enough of her family’s meddling. It wouldn’t surprise me if her decision to live on the edge of California was to keep maximum distance. Em is a boss. She takes no shit and commands respect. The same moss-green eyes impaling me for my audacity silently plead for me to understand. That her house is her sanctuary, impenetrable to control. I’m the first man she’s allowing into her space, and with that comes trust. She wants me to fuck her, but not over.
“I want to keep you safe, kitten. Will you let me?” I keep my voice calm and my gaze steady. I’d set the world on fire if anyone harmed her.
Emma blinks away her fury and nods. “That’s…fine.” She studies me but shakes away a thought. “Come on, let me show you the house.”
There’s a chef’s kitchen with a marble island parallel to a row of white cabinets. A small dining area converges with a living room next to a panoramic view of the ocean through glass pocket doors. I take in the wood beams on the ceilings and the steel loop that holds fresh logs next to the fireplace. Emma’s living space is an ode to Pottery Barn with sand-colored seating and breathable linens. Blush and champagne accent pillows give a splash of color to complement the calacatta marble coffee table.
“It fits you,” I say about her house, my attention on the black-and-white photos of Emma and Justice over the years on the mantel.
Three bedrooms are upstairs. Emma’s, a spare room she uses for clothing storage, and the room she keeps for Justice whenever she visits.
“Is this okay?” Emma motions to the cream-and-taupe room. A large area rug covers most of the wooden floor, which matches the beams above. The bed is big enough for my size, but I need a desk large enough for the screens I had shipped, and a chair.
“This view is sick.” I can’t pull my eyes away from the open pocket doors leading to a private balcony. I’m starting to understand why there are no blinds on the windows.
“It is.” Emma joins me at the threshold that separates the bedroom from outside. Barefoot, she reaches my shoulder without the pogo sticks she calls heels. It’s different seeing her at home. Nice. Her shoulders aren’t rigid, and she smiles more than I’ve seen—except for when she’s around Jay.
Peace looks divine on Emma, which is why I look away from her profile and head downstairs. She can’t be a distraction; only sex. We’ve fucked under the same roof in Milan for days. Her home is no different, if we keep sex the priority and out of my room. Having her so close tempts me to cross a threshold I’ve refused because of what’s on the other side.