Chapter Twenty
Kade
I don’t know how to say what I want to tell her, so instead, I focus on washing the tumblers and cups and other alcohol ingestion devices. The clinking of glasses, the dull squeak of the cloth against the sudsy insides, and the loud silence aren’t enough to drown out the riot in my mind.
Hot water sloshes over my knuckles, but I still feel oddly chilled and overheated all at once - it’s the same feeling I get when I’m about to hurl, but I’m not feeling particularly sick.
“Hey,” Emma says, her gentle voice cutting through the delicate noise, soft but more powerful than a scream would be. I glance over at her, trying to forget the look on her face, the beautiful way she looks as though she’s been poured into the dress she’s wearing... everything about her makes it damn hard to think straight.
“Hey yourself.” I’m trying to be playful, despite how I’d trailed off and hadn’t completed my thoughts. I know she expects me to say more - and I’d intended to say more - but I don’t think I can force the words. I manage a half-smile as my grip tightens on the glass in my hand, because if I let go, I might reach for her instead.
She leans her hip against the counter beside me, watching me work. Her eyes are wide and search my features for something. “You”re quiet tonight. More than usual.”
I shrug, placing another spotless glass onto the drying mat. “Just thinking.” The truth is a grenade in my mouth, and I”m not sure I should pull the pin.
“About what we said a little bit ago?” she asks, her shoulders rising a few inches. She crosses her arms under her breasts, which does absolutely nothing to ease the tension tying knots in my muscles.
“Us.” The single word slips out before I can stop it. Her eyes widen slightly, and I curse myself internally. That was too much, too soon.
Emma tilts her head, and I can smell her shampoo, something floral and sweet that makes my head spin and takes me back to the night we shared together and the following morning in her shower. The memory instantly has an effect on me, and I’m glad I’m facing the sink or she’d know exactly what’s on my mind.
“What about us?” she asks softly.
I want to lie and tell her nothing. I want to tell her not to worry about it. I want to deny everything because this is the hard part. This honesty. But hell, she”s right there, looking concerned and beautiful, and I”m in way over my head. The thought of telling her how much I want her, how I see her in every damn dream I have—it terrifies me. So I keep scrubbing instead, keep pretending that my hands don”t ache to touch her.
“Is this because of what we said?” Her voice lowers, barely above a whisper. “That we mean a lot to each other?”
I still, a glass forgotten in my grasp. “Something like that,” I say. Honesty feels like stepping off a ledge, exhilarating and terrifying. “I”m not good at this part, Emma. The whole feelings thing.” Women have always been more of a means to an end kind of deal. Maybe Stella breaking my heart turned me into a cold sonuvabitch where women are concerned - I’ve never really thought about it until this very moment. But not Emma.
Her lips part and she looks like she wants to say more, but she hesitates. We stand there, suspended in a moment as an electric current buzzes between us.
“Maybe,” she says, then stops, chewing on her lower lip in a way that has heat pooling low in my belly. I remember when she’d bitten down on her lower lip while riding me, but these thoughts aren’t helping divert my blood flow from my lower half. “Maybe we should talk about it?” Her eyes scan the bar and beyond. “Not here, though. Somewhere private.”
“Being alone with you again sounds risky,” I say, my heart”s hammering a yes against my ribs, loud enough that I’d bet she can hear it.
“Risks can be worth taking,” she says softly, holding my gaze and it’s all I can do not to melt right here, right now.
They really can. But as she stands before me, full of hope and desire and a shiny view of the world, I can”t shake the feeling that I’m the risk she should avoid at all costs.
“Will you take me home?” she asks, her lips moving in a way that brings back heated memories as her gaze searches mine.
I want to tell her I will, but I need to know if she’s asking because she wants to talk, or for something more. But before I can respond, Alex walks into the private moment between us, his gaze flitting from me to Emma in a silent interrogation that makes the room shrink.
“You guys seem serious,” he says, and though his words hang casual in the air, they”re laced with an edge that sends a warning. I can’t help but wonder if he’s saying we seem serious in a relationship sense, or that our moods are serious.
“There”s a lot of cleaning to do,” I say, shrugging off his concern.
But Alex isn”t buying it; he has that look, like he knows there’s some deeper undercurrent to the moment he just invaded. And he hovers, a presence that doesn”t belong in this moment between me and his sister.
“Can we talk?” Alex”s voice is steady as he speaks to me, but there”s something in his tone that feels like walking on thin ice.
“Sure,” I say, reaching for a dry towel to wipe my wet hands on.
I glance over at Emma. She nods, her hands already reaching for the next glass. “Thanks,” she says in a nonchalant, almost dismissive tone that I know is for her brother’s benefit, but her gaze holds mine for a fraction longer than necessary.
“Of course.” With that, I follow Alex out, feeling Emma”s gaze on my back. I hate leaving so much unresolved, but what choice do I have?
I walk beside Alex down the dimly lit corridor to my office, where the air is sharp with the scent of old whiskey and secrets. “Do you have any news?” He makes his way to my desk and sits in my chair, adjusting before glancing up at me.
“Nothing yet.” I return his gaze with a blank expression.
“Is that a bad thing?” He”s fishing, looking for reassurance when I have nothing but doubt.
I shrug, nonchalant. “How would I know that?” The truth is, I”m caught in the crossfire of his plan, forced to swim or sink. But Emma”s image floats to the surface of my mind, her smile a comfort I can cling to. “Have you ever considered just telling Emma?” I ask.
His brows furrow. “Why would I do that?”
I can’t believe I have to spell this one out for him. “Because it’s her club, too.”
He shakes his head. “She doesn”t need to know everything I do just like I don’t need to know everything she does.”
But her influence over orders, decor, and DJ’s just isn’t apples to apples with what he’s up to.
“I need air,” I say more to myself than him.
With that, I leave my office, but I feel him following me. I push through the back exit into the night, and he stops to stand beside me, scanning the darkness and the way the concrete glitters like gold under the streetlights. The cold snaps at my skin, a sharp contrast from the club’s heat, thanks to the sheer number of bodies that were packed in and dancing not so long ago.
The parking lot is deserted, and Alex scans the shadows, then locks eyes with me. “You care about her, don”t you?” His question hovers between us, a dare.
I hesitate, but it”s like trying to stop a dam from breaking with my bare hands. I nod, a slight dip of my head that feels like surrender. “Of course, I care about her, Alex.” It’s a dumb question, one designed to be a trap. A trap I’m not about to fall for.
“Just… be careful,” he says, and the warning wraps around me, tight and suffocating like a python strangling its next meal.
Careful could mean a million things, but I still can’t be sure exactly what he means. “Are you taking her home tonight?” His question pulls me back into reality.
I lift my shoulders. “She asked me to.” The thought of what the invitation can mean has me overheating all over again.
“Make sure she gets home safely,” he says, but there”s a look in his eyes that suggests he knows more than he”s letting on.
I hate this game of cat and mouse.
“Of course.” The irony stings; the one she needs protection from is me.
“Thanks. And about the other thing...” he says, hesitating. “Don’t tell her.” He claps a hand on my shoulder before turning to go back inside, leaving me alone in the chilly night air with my thoughts.
When I finally make my way back inside, I find Emma at the sink, her hands deep in sudsy water, rhythmically moving from one glass to another. She doesn”t see me immediately, she’s so focused.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She startles, a small gasp escaping her lips as her gaze snaps up to meet mine. “You scared me!”
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t mean to startle her, but damn she’s cute when frightened like that.
“I’m fine,” she says.
“Can I help?” I lean against the counter.
Emma”s gaze holds mine for a moment longer than necessary. “I’m almost done here,” she says, her voice steady now as her eyes search mine.
She gets back to work and I watch her, the memory of her skin beneath my fingertips resurfacing in my mind.
When the last glass is placed on the shelf, we move toward the exit. Her hand hesitates on the handle, her lip caught between her teeth. “I feel bad asking you to take me home again,” she says, her voice sending a jolt through my system.
“It”s no trouble,” I say.
Her eyes lock on mine, and there”s a heat there, a heat that tells me that taking her home might just lead to the same outcome as it did last time. But I’m not sure I want to do that again. I don’t like sneaking around. I don’t like this uncomfortable space we’re stuck in. But I don’t know how to fix the situation.
“Thank you.” She blinks and nods her head, the gesture insulating me against the cold of the night.
In my car, I turn on the heat and aim the vents in her direction to warm her up. “How was your night?” I ask.
She flashes me a half-smile that reminds me of the sunrise chasing away the darkness. “Good. I... spent a lot of it thinking,” she says in a playful, lighthearted tone as I drive. “Thinking about you, actually.”
“That sounds distracting,” I say, teasing her right back. It’s too easy, too comfortable with her like this.
She nods with a small dip of her chin and my heart skips; I’m caught off guard by her cuteness. “Oh, it was distracting all right. How was your day?” Her curiosity sounds genuine, and suddenly this mundane exchange shifts to something warmer.
“It was long,” I say, thinking about Alex, the secret we’re keeping, and the lack of response we’ve been waiting for. “But it’s better now.” It”s the truth—the first full truth I”ve allowed myself to say out loud tonight.
She reaches out and takes my hand, bringing it to her thigh in an innocent gesture that sends an unexpected heat through me like I just downed a shot.
And we drive in a companionable silence for a while, not needing words but feeling so very at home.
“Thank you,” she whispers as I pull into her driveway, “for everything.” The words are soft, meant only for me, and they lodge somewhere deep inside my chest and burrow in.
“Emma...” I say, but the barriers between us grow. I think about how mad she’s going to be when she learns I held back the truth - and understandably so - how Alex wants me to keep this secret - though he doesn”t have all the information about me and Emma, or how much this secret could cost me - and my voice trails off.
She bites her lip, looking up at her apartment building with hesitation. “Come up?” Her invitation is an echo of every fantasy I”ve had since the last time, since feeling her beneath me.
A deep breath does nothing to calm me down. “I don”t think that”s a good idea,” I say, though every part of me screams otherwise.
Her eyes search my face, a silent why written in her features. But she doesn”t push me.
“Okay,” she says with acceptance and warmth in her tone. “Have a good night, Kade.” With that, she steps out of the car, leaving behind her intoxicating scent.
I watch her walk away, her figure receding into the night until her door closes behind her. Alone, I let my head fall back against the seat as the true weight of the secrets presses down on my chest.
But, even as doubt takes hold within me, it”s her smile that comes to mind. And I know, despite it all, I”m too far gone to ever consider turning back.