10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Molly
“What the hell are you doing?” Emmett asked as he grabbed my lamp out of Preston’s hand and set it on the nightstand.
“Moving things along. Literally,” Preston said, flashing me a roguish smile.
I ducked my head so he couldn't see the blush heating my face.
“There’s packing paper here for a reason.” Emmett lifted a sheet and, using exaggerated movements, demonstrated how to wrap the lamp so it would survive the drive to their house.
Our house.
A thrill traveled up my spine.
True to their word, they were at my door fifteen minutes after I replied to their text, telling them that, yes, I was awake and ready for them to come over.
When I opened the door, Emmett was holding a tray of drinks in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other. Four drinks and four pastries. One each for me, him, Preston, and Juliet.
When I asked him why he got one for Juliet, he said, “She’s your best friend. Why wouldn’t I get her one?” and walked into the apartment like it was no big deal, making the space feel oddly small with his wide shoulders.
Now we were in my room, packing things according to Emmett’s instructions.
Preston had started out guns blazing, throwing things into boxes he’d haphazardly taped together.
Emmett put a stop to that immediately, re-taping one box, and coaching Preston through the next two boxes before Preston caught on and did the rest himself.
It wasn’t that Preston didn’t know how to tape a box.
It was more that he couldn’t be bothered to take the extra few seconds to do it correctly.
Maybe Juliet was wrong, and his nickname only had to do with hockey.
He didn’t seem like someone who could bring someone to the edge over and over. Zero patience at all.
I pressed my hands to my cheeks while they weren’t looking.
“It’s a short distance. Everything will make it there in one piece,” Preston argued as Emmett cradled the lamp, lowering it into a box already lined with balls of packing paper.
“Yes, it will make it there intact because we’re taking our time to do it correctly.”
Preston grumbled and grabbed my jewelry box. As I watched him lift it, my heart jumped to my throat.
“That’s one of the only birthday presents my dad got me,” I blurted.
He adjusted his hold on it, his annoyance evaporating, and his eyes softening. “I’ll pack it carefully.”
I nodded, steadying my breath. The top of the nightstand was cleared off and Emmett was about to open the top drawer.
Panic swamped every cell in my body.
In my nervousness about getting going, I hadn’t thought of packing my toys first. Yes, those types of toys. Love wasn’t part of my life plan, but I was still human with—needs.
I winced, embarrassment rolling over me in suffocating, unyielding waves. Crap. They were going to see them. I had to think fast.
“Um. There are feminine products in there,” I said, stepping closer to Emmett.
“I’m not scared of pads,” he said, yanking the drawer open to my absolute horror.
I held my breath, regretting how careless I’d been. Two of the vibrators had come in satin bags. Without thinking anyone would ever look in my drawer, I left them on top of their bags to fully dry after washing them and hadn’t put them back.
Emmett looked down at the lime green vibrator and the purple dildo and then up at me. I braced myself, expecting him to laugh or make fun of me for having them. Instead, his green eyes were darker when they met my gaze.
“I’ll let you pack these yourself,” he said, his voice low. It was close enough to his growl from last night that my body shuddered, imagining him wrapping the purple one with care and tucking it in a box.
Tucking it in me.
Oh my gosh.
I needed to get a handle on myself. Emmett welcomed me into his home, and I was thinking of him like an extension of a sex toy.
Would he mind that, though? Was there a way I could be flirty and fun and ask him?
“What is it?” Preston asked, trying to peer over his shoulder.
Although he was a couple of inches taller, Emmett wouldn’t let Preston see past him. “It’s only your business if Molly wants it to be your business.”
“We’re going to live together. Doesn’t that kind of negate a lot of privacy?” I asked.
Emmett’s eyes narrowed. “No. You can have as much privacy as you want.”
I laughed.
“I’m serious. The second you think we’re encroaching, talk to us.”
Preston sobered, backing off. “I don’t have to see what’s in the drawer, Molls. Your stuff is your stuff.”
Woah. My eyes stung. I was ready to cry over Preston being so considerate.
Holy crap. I really needed to get a handle on myself or these two would regret letting me move in.
But the way Emmett insisted on making sure I fully heard him and the way Preston got so serious the second he thought I was embarrassed—it was more than I expected.
Emmett frowned and shut the nightstand drawer that had been momentarily forgotten about. “Have you ever had privacy?”
Thinking of the total lack of boundaries Juliet and I were used to with each other, I laughed again.
“I’ve only lived with my parents—they didn’t believe in privacy and took my door off when I was twelve.
” I ignored the flicker of pity in Emmett’s eyes.
“Lucas for a brief minute before Rebecca moved in. And Juliet. Juliet and I don’t have any secrets and never needed any privacy. ”
“Well, don’t worry about that at our house,” Preston pledged. “If you have a secret, no one will ever know it.”
He said it with a laugh, but the way his eyes lingered on Emmett made my stomach squeeze.
“Good to know,” I muttered, throwing open my closet. “I’ll get the nightstand cleared out in a little bit.”
“Let’s finish the closet.” Emmett showed us an efficient system for getting the clothes in garbage bags, still on their hangers. “This way, you can hang them up as soon as you get home. They stay clean on the way over and you don’t have to re-hang them.”
Home.
The squeezing sensation in my stomach subsided.
Maybe Juliet was right, and this was the best next step I could take.