Chapter 8
“Newbie,” he teased, amusement warming his voice.
She glanced his way and grinned. “Does it show?”
“Maybe a little.” His eyes skimmed over her—warm, familiar affection catching fire for the briefest second, sending a slow curl of heat through her belly. Then it was gone, tucked neatly behind the easy smile she’d known half her life.
Not wanting to get ahead of herself—even if her body already had, Emily let her gaze drift around the interior of the Lexus. “Business must be good,” she said lightly.
“I bought it used,” he said with a shrug. “But it’s good enough for now. When I can trade up to a Bentley for two hundred grand—you’ll know I’ve made it.”
She blinked, unsure whether he was serious—until his grin flashed as he slowed to turn off Ocean Boulevard.
Emily laughed, though she couldn’t imagine spending that much on a house, let alone a car.
Her rust-bucket Corolla had cost under ten thousand.
A steak dinner meant a week’s worth of waffle-shift tips.
He’d sprung for double that easily without batting an eye.
They came from the same middle-class world, but their lives had split in opposite directions.
As they drove farther inland, the tourist traps and neon faded behind them, replaced by quiet streets and palms bending lazily in the evening breeze.
“Where to now?” she asked.
“My house,” he said simply.
They pulled into an upper-middle-class subdivision and stopped at a two-story Spanish-style house with neat hedges and warm stucco glowing in the last of the light.
“This is beautiful!” Emily breathed.
“I appreciate the quiet,” he said. “And there’s a great view with seventy-five feet of lake frontage.” His pride was subtle but unmistakable.
He shut off the engine and was out of the car while she was still absorbing the fact that Alec owned a house in a neighborhood she’d bet money was governed by a homeowner’s association.
When he opened the door and helped her out, his fingers curled around hers with certainty.
He kept it as he led her not to the front entrance but down a brick walkway skirting the house.
“If we hurry, we can catch the last of the sunset over the water.” The glint of excitement from earlier threaded into his voice. It was infectious, and she hurried to keep up with his longer strides.
Beyond the sloping yard, the lake lay still as glass. The sun had sunk below the horizon, but streaks of orange and pink clung to the sky. Alec’s arms slid around her from behind. She leaned into him, fitting beneath his chin.
For a long moment, they didn’t speak. The sky did all the talking.
“I’d do everything possible to be here in time for this every night,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if she meant the sunset or being held by him.
He took it as the former, and said, “I don’t make it every night. When I do, I grab a beer and watch from the second-floor balcony.”
Drawn by the sound of gentle splashing, she turned. “There’s a fountain in the middle of the lake,” she said, delighted.
“It’s not oceanfront, but it’s on the water—”
“Which was always your dream,” she finished softly
He turned her gently by the hips to face him. “You remembered.” Something warmer than surprise flickered in his eyes.
“How could I forget the vision boards you and Ethan made freshman year? He thought it was stupid, slapped something together, and got a D. But yours…” She looked past him at the house. “It’s the same. You got the exact dream you mapped out.”
“When I saw it, I knew I had to have it.”
“I’m so proud of you, Alec.” Emotion tightened her throat. “I know a lot of hard work made this possible.”
“My dream’s missing one thing.”
“A chocolate lab!” she guessed. “That’s doable. All you need is a fence.”
“It’d have to be invisible. HOA rules.”
She couldn’t keep from grinning; she’d pegged it right. “Ethan would tease you mercilessly if he knew you lived somewhere with rules about fences and fountains.”
“I don’t mind.” He tugged her hand. “Come on. Let me show you the house.”
He was already moving, towing her behind him.
“It was a rental. The previous tenant had four boys. It needed work—mostly cosmetic. Paint, new floors, patching a bunch of holes. The owner was underwater on the mortgage and desperate to sell, so I got him to come down on the price. Shitty luck for him turned into a sweet deal for me.”
He led her through a spacious kitchen, into the adjacent dining room then the front rooms. Dove-gray walls, crisp white trim, crown molding—all clean with simple lines.
She liked it instantly, but the place was practically empty.
A lone recliner angled toward a wall-mounted TV.
Two stools at the kitchen island. Nothing else.
The emptiness felt intentional—as if waiting for something to fill it.
“I did most of the work myself,” he said. “Finished the last room a few weeks ago.”
“It’s amazing,” she said as he led her upstairs. “Some furniture and pictures on the wall might be nice.”
“I’m good with a hammer and nails. A color palette and texture, not so much. Maybe if I had help picking it out.” He glanced at her, unmistakably hopeful when he asked, “You game?”
Helping him meant they’d do it together. A flutter of excitement ran through her. “That sounds like fun.”
He bypassed the other rooms, heading straight for the open door at the end of the hall. The master suite opened around them, dominated by a massive king-size bed with a matching chest along the wall.
She wasn’t surprised that the bed was made and the room neat as a pin, consistent with the rest of the house. Alec had always been careful with the things he valued—disciplined even as a kid.
He pulled her flush against him, and his voice dropped—smoldering heat in it he didn’t quite let loose. “I’ve been picturing you here since I left you this morning.”
“In your house or in your bed?”
“Both. Though you featured more in one than the other.” His head dipped, lips close to hers.
For a heartbeat, she felt the same spark he’d lit when he’d spanked her—the one that stole her breath without warning. Then it cooled, as did he.
“I didn’t bring you up here for that.” He stroked his thumb across her lower lip, gentle and restrained. “I wanted you to see my after-work relaxation view.”
“Seen one sunset, seen ’em all,” she whispered, rising on her toes, drawn up by an uncommon boldness inside her.
His mouth claimed hers with a heat that stole her breath. When her knees wobbled, he pulled back, steadying her. The retreat left her confused and did nothing to ease the slow burn smoldering inside her.
“I don’t want to go too fast for you, sweetheart.”
She looked up at him, heart thudding. “You’re not,” she said quietly. “I’ve been thinking about this too.”
“You’re certain? This will change who we are, irrevocably.”
“I’m sure,” she breathed.
His expression shifted, the heat reignited.
He reached for her, fingers brushing her cheek before trailing down to the edge of her blouse.
He undressed her, piece by piece. His hands skimmed her waist and the curve of her hips—confident, unhurried.
More intentional than any man had ever touched her.
Emily reached for him, tugging off his shirt, tracing the lines of muscle she remembered—and the new ones he’d earned since. She caught the slight hitch in his breathing, a tiny crack in his restraint she felt everywhere.
When he lifted her into his arms and laid her gently across the bed, she didn’t resist. She wanted this—wanted him. The intense passion from downstairs hadn’t faded. It coiled beneath her ribs, hot and insistent.
After quickly seeing to protection, he joined her, bracing on his elbows, covering her without smothering.
For a heartbeat, his gaze darkened, revealing his hunger, before it softened again.
His fingers threaded through her hair, holding her still as he kissed her—tasting of longing, and something new budding between them.
She arched beneath him, her body responding to the press of his chest, the slide of his thigh between hers, and the rhythm of his mouth.
Fire swept through her, burning hotter when his fingers flexed on her hip and he deepened the kiss.
Then he was inside her, filling completely.
A moan escaped—part alarm, part awe. Alec was a big guy everywhere.
“Are you good, baby?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she whispered.
He chuckled low. “I believe that’s my line.”
Then he moved, slowly, with the utmost patience. It built to quiet urgency for both of them, the kind born of years apart and the ache of reunion.
His gentleness soothed her. At the same time, she yearned more, the flashes of intensity he’d given her glimpses of.
More often than not, his touch remained careful, his pace unhurried, as if he were holding something back.
Still, she soared to climax, clinging to him, letting the moment unfold in waves.
He followed right after, whispering her name like a promise.
In the afterglow, he gathered her close, their hearts racing in sync. He brushed her hair from her face, kissed her temple, and whispered something too soft to make out—something she felt more than heard. A tiny part of her sensed the tension he kept buried under it.
Emily lay curled against him, warm and safe.
But beneath the pleasant afterglow and the comfort of being next to him, uncertainty stirred, prompted by that single moment when his fingers tightened on her hip, when her breath caught.
It tugged at her, subtle and confusing, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.
***
Her bedside clock read 3:59 a.m.
Lying in the dark, trying to shake off sleep, Emily fumbled for what day it was. When she realized she didn’t have to get up before daylight and go to work, a tiny thrill rushed through her. It quickly fizzled because she’d woken anyway, out of habit.
She flipped her pillow to the cool side and shut her eyes, willing herself to sleep. But it wouldn’t come.
By 4:30 she gave up. Fuzzy slippers on, she shuffled to the kitchen and watched her one-cup Keurig hiss and sputter to life. At the table, sipping her off-brand dulce-de-leche medium roast, she replayed the night before in her head.
Sex with Alec had been pleasant—sweet, even. The kiss he’d given her at the door when he dropped her off was nice, too. Last night’s tenderness stood in stark contrast to the wild, breathless urgency of the kiss after he’d spanked her.
She’d come—miracle of miracles—so the sex hadn’t been bad.
It simply lacked the rip-each-other’s-clothes-off fire she’d expected.
It was more warm bath than wildfire. And it didn’t come close to the nonstop sizzle she’d witnessed at Devil’s Pointe, where Devil and Cari seemed to combust just by looking at each other.
Deanna’s line—sometimes there’s chemistry, sometimes there isn’t—kept ringing in her head.
“Good grief!” She buried her face in her hands. “Maybe that’s why it never worked out with the others.”
All two of them.
She hadn’t lost her virginity until twenty-four. Grief had consumed her for a long time. When the loneliness finally pushed her into making a human connection, it was forgettable. The only other guy since? Equally underwhelming.
Alec was the first man she’d ever wanted. Last night had been the first time it truly mattered. Why wasn’t nice and safe and an orgasm enough?
A worse thought crept in. “What if, subconsciously, I think of Alec not as a lover—but as a brother?” she whispered, horrified.
It would make sense. With Alec, like with Ethan, she felt comfort, trust, protection. Maybe, considering her past, those essential needs had blurred into something other than the hot, jump-his-bones hunger she’d imagined. Feelings she never, ever, associated with her brother.
A little nauseated, she dumped her coffee. On her way to her favorite chair, she glanced at the scene of the crime—the couch.
For a second, she didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or set it on fire.
Emily flopped into her chair and stared at the overstuffed, bargain-basement, all-sales-final sofa that she adored. Every time she looked at it, she’d remember the embarrassment, but also the breathlessness, the tingling fire of intense desire, the wanting.
“I’m going to have to burn it,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.
She’d get over a couch—eventually. But how did she get over Alec, the man she loved since she was five? She didn’t want to hurt him. Again.
It wasn’t fair.
“Why now?” she asked the empty room. They were finally talking, both available, not too young, not too old, and far removed from family grief.
Maybe it was just the unfamiliarity. First times were often awkward, weren’t they? Maybe heat needed time to build.
She wanted to be with him again and test her theory, but the calendar wasn’t good. He had a case for the next three nights. She had morning shifts, classes, and Regina’s events in the evenings. Friday was their earliest option.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” she breathed. “I need to think.”
With gray morning light seeping through her blinds, she rose and headed for the shower—leaving the couch unburned. For now.