Chapter Seventeen
Wilder
HE’D WAITED for Emmet outside the clubhouse the past two mornings, leaning against his bike, and Emmett had given him the same disgruntled look each time.
He’d managed to turn that look into a blush and a bit of stammering both times.
He was rather enjoying it. Especially when it brought out that snarky side of Emmett.
Today was no different, except there was a smile on Emmett’s face as he headed down the patio steps toward him. His heart leapt, his pulse racing when Emmett aimed that smile at him. If ever Emmett wanted him to do something, anything, all he had to do was smile at him just like that.
“Good morning,” Emmett said, stopping in front of him.
Wilder ran his gaze over Emmett slowly, taking in the way his leather jacket fit him just right, his voice sounding almost hoarse as he said, “Now it is.”
Emmett’s cheeks turned deep red.
“Stop flirting with me,” Emmett mumbled.
Emmett’s mouth was saying one thing, but his eyes said the opposite, running over Wilder in blatant appraisal. Anytime he could have his tattoo on display around Emmett, he did, the ink always drawing Emmett’s undivided attention.
He smiled wryly at Emmett and held his helmet toward him, and once Emmett grabbed it, he used it to tug him closer so he could whisper, “Never.”
He swore Emmett shivered, his small intake of air sounding fucking divine.
He was thoroughly addicted to everything Emmett by now.
He couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad about it anymore.
Emmett was too fucking sweet and pure. Of course, he wanted him.
He was the exact opposite of everything he’d ever had in his life, and fuck, if it didn’t make him want him more.
The helmet was pulled out of his hand, and instead of watching or helping Emmett put it on, he turned to grab his own, knowing full well he could watch that man for hours without getting bored, which wouldn’t be great for Emmett because he had a job to do.
Emmett would no doubt yell at him, too. Not that he was opposed to that.
Emmett yelling his name was… He was fucked.
Or he would be. If they ever went there.
He tugged on his gloves and settled onto his bike, eyes closing when Emmett slid on behind him, arms wrapping around him tightly.
Why did that feel so right? He’d never cared to have anyone ride with him before.
He’d barely even looked at someone twice, and least of all, craved having them pressed against his back.
Especially knowing that’s all it could be.
This couldn’t lead anywhere. Emmett had a life to get back to.
A life that didn’t involve needing a bodyguard just to do his job.
They both enjoyed the flirting, but he couldn’t see Emmett wanting to lead the life he did.
Not that he was offering to make Emmett his old man or anything.
He shook his head and cleared his throat, fingers clenching on the handlebars. He kicked the bike into first gear with a sigh and drove down the driveway, trying to ignore how good it felt to have Emmett’s gloved hands pressing against his chest.
He’d utterly lost the fight to ignore how perfectly Emmett fit against him on the back of his bike when he pulled into the gym’s parking lot.
He was beyond pretending he didn’t want Emmett.
What was the fucking point? Could he have him?
No. Would he say to hell with everything if Emmett asked him to? Undoubtedly.
Walking inside, he tried not to let his gaze drop to Emmett’s ass as he followed him down the hallway. He needed to get a grip. Preferably within the next ten seconds.
He walked ahead of Emmett to push open the door to the boxing room for him, cursing himself because that blush creeping onto Emmett’s face did nothing to help his predicament.
Emmett put his bag on the ground in front of the wall and turned toward him, brow arched. Right. He needed to go.
“I’ll see you later,” he said, taking a step back. “Come find me if there’s anything.”
Emmett looked at him with a sweet smile on those lips he needed to stop thinking about, or else he wouldn’t be leaving this room anytime soon.
“I will.”
He turned and walked away, not waiting for the door to fall shut behind him before trekking across the gym.
He needed to be as far from Emmett as possible without putting him at risk.
He was fairly safe in the boxing room. There was only one way in and out, and he would be between it and anyone entering from outside.
He might’ve promised Emma he’d watch Emmett day and night if needed, but how he was going to stay focused, he didn’t know.
He spent a few hours working, his thoughts returning unprompted to Emmett again and again, until all he could do was curse himself and seek the man out.
He walked through one of the doors to the boxing room, though he only made it two steps inside before he was brought up short by the vision in front of him.
There was something devastatingly beautiful about watching Emmett work. Enthralled in painting, he was lost to the world. Or perhaps more accurately, lost in his own world. He was humming, his hips swaying to the music coming through the many speakers Ezra had installed in the ceiling.
He found himself wholly entranced and rested his shoulder against the wall to watch, soaking in the joy radiating off Emmett. He could use more of that in his life.
The music changed to an upbeat song that had Emmett waving his paintbrush around, his whole body moving as he began to sing along. It didn’t sound great, but he might love it more because that just made it clear to him that it was a real moment. Emmett was having fun.
The singing was cut off by a surprised squeal when Emmett whirled in Wilder’s direction. He tried not to laugh as Emmett put a hand on his chest as he gasped.
“Shit, you scared me,” Emmett said between deep breaths.
“Sorry.”
Emmett’s eyes narrowed. “No, you’re not.”
A hearty chuckle escaped him, and he pushed away from the wall, taking long strides toward Emmett, who looked up at him with something akin to wonder in those devastatingly blue eyes.
He took the paint brush out of Emmett’s hand and dropped it on the protective paper covering the floor, then grabbed him by the hand and whirled him around, Emmett’s burst of laughter settling something inside his chest.
“What are you doing?” Emmett asked, laughter in his voice.
He brought Emmett up against his chest, grabbing him by the hip and making him sway with him. “Dancing.”
“Uh-huh?”
Emmett’s eyes were shining with the kind of joy he’d always tried to grab for himself. It always seemed just out of reach, always slipping right through his fingers when he dared reach for it.
“What’s life worth if you don’t dance to good music?”
An almost wistful look crossed Emmett’s eyes, and he whispered, “Almost nothing,” before resting his forehead in the crook of Wilder’s neck.
He held on tighter, eyes closing as they swayed, fingers threading through Emmett’s soft hair.
His heart was racing, some feeling settling in his chest that he wasn’t anywhere near ready to give a name to, and he knew he needed to stop touching Emmett or he would do something stupid.
He gently pushed Emmett back to whirl him around again, elated when it brought out that laugh he was starting to crave from him. He brought Emmett back against his chest, not expecting his gasp.
“Oh, shit. I’m getting paint on you,” Emmett exclaimed, the concern in his voice warming Wilder from the inside.
“I don’t care,” he said, fingers tightening on Emmett’s hip when he tried to pull away. Emmett froze for a moment, something unreadable flashing through those gorgeous eyes, before he relaxed back against Wilder.
He wasn’t sure how, but he’d find a way to move on if this was all that could ever be between them. If he never got to taste those lips or feel those elegant fingers sliding through his hair. If he never got to see Emmett let go…
Move on? No. He didn’t think he could do that. Survive, though? Yeah, he could survive.
He moved them in a small circle, loving every second he had Emmett pressed against him, but once the music changed, he stilled and brought Emmett’s hands up between them to ask, “How do you say dance?”
Emmett smiled brightly and signed it for him, holding one hand flat, palm up, pointer and middle finger of his other hand moving side to side above it.
He frowned as he copied the sign once and then asked, “You. Dance. Me?”
Emmett bursting into laughter was only mildly offensive. His signing was not that bad.
“What?”
“Half of signing is your expression.”
“Not sultry enough?”
Emmett stuttered, his cheeks reddening as he shook his head. He bit into his bottom lip and sent Wilder’s thoughts to a dangerous place.
Emmett put his hands on Wilder’s chest, and before he could enjoy it, he was shoved back.
“Go away,” Emmett said, trying his hardest to give Wilder a stern look. “I need to work.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I distracting you?”
Emmett raised his brows and signed something, his hands moving too fast for him to catch any of the words.
“You know I’m gonna figure out what you just said one day, right?”
Emmett shrugged, then signed, “Go!”
Wilder raised his hands. “Alright. Alright. I’m going.”
Was he smiling widely to himself as he walked back out of those doors? Absolutely.
Survive? Without Emmett? He wasn’t so sure anymore.