Chapter 16 - Delilah
I was halfway done shaving my left leg when my doorbell rang. Either it was a very early trick-or-treater, or one of my unknown number of online orders getting delivered. Frowning, I reached for my phone and pulled up my Ring camera app.
If my phone had suddenly sprouted wings, I would’ve been less surprised than I was right now. Emmett was there in the grainy live feed, dressed in gray sweats and a t-shirt that stretched across his chest too well. He glanced out towards the parking lot, running a hand through his curly hair.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
I lowered my leg off the sink and went to the door on autopilot.
Only to stop short when I saw the piles of laundry on my bed.
Panicking, I shoved shit under my bed and swept everything off my dresser into my underwear drawer.
I did a double-take when I saw myself in the mirror.
“Shit.” Dark gray clay was drying on my face, and my hair was slicked back in a bun, oily from my hair mask.
Embarrassment coiled hot in my chest when there was a follow-up knock.
I bit my lip, staring at my front door. I could just let him think I wasn’t home.
But he probably saw my car in the parking lot, and I did want to see him, despite how crazy I looked.
My eyes drifted shut with a sigh, and I went to my door, pulling it open before I could talk myself out of it.
“He—” Emmett’s smile quickly morphed to a grimace. “What is that on your face?”
“Clay.” Thankfully, it was covering the heat in my cheeks. I forced nonchalance in my voice, placing all my weight on one leg and crossing my arms. “It’s self-care night.”
“Interesting.” His gaze ran over my body, and I shifted on my feet, feeling exposed. Fake nonchalance gone and replaced with full chalance. I could tell he was trying with everything he had not to smile with the way his lips were pinched. “Think you missed a spot.”
“Huh?”
He pointed to my leg, which was half covered in strawberry-scented shaving cream.
“Oh my God,” I groaned, mortified, and raced to my bathroom.
Emmett’s low chuckle chased after me as I slung my leg on my bathroom counter.
The door clicked shut while I rinsed it off.
“I’m just gonna wash my face,” I said when I heard him moving around in my kitchen.
“Okay.”
Once my face was clean, I crept out into the living room. He was on the couch, flipping through the pages of my latest monster smut book. My stomach dropped, and I yanked it out of his hands.
“What are you doing here?” My voice came out high-pitched.
He looked mildly horrified when he met my gaze. “Did I just read that right? Was that dude a kraken?”
I swallowed back my mortification and leaned against the doorjamb, smirking. “Eight tentacles are better than two hands.”
“Jesus,” he laughed, shaking his head at me. “You’re a mess, sugar.”
My smirk morphed into a smile. “You know you love it.”
He froze, and my life flashed before my eyes. I have got to get my foot out of my mouth. “I uh”—he cleared his throat and gestured to the bag on the coffee table—“I brought some movies. Didn’t know what you’d want, so I brought options.”
I grinned at the gesture, despite not really understanding why he made it. I went over and looked through the stack of DVDs. There was everything from The Notebook to The Shining to Finding Nemo. I bit back my laugh, my shoulders quaking.
“What?”
“Baby, it’s twenty-twenty-five, no one watches DVDs anymore.” I was fairly certain he’d have a flip phone if it weren’t for Savannah and Claire making him get an iPhone so they could FaceTime while he was deployed. “I don’t even have a DVD player.”
He frowned a little, looking at the bag. “Oh.”
I wasn’t sure he’d ever looked so cute. And that wasn’t a word I used lightly for the 6’4 tatted man on my couch.
But in this moment, he was the cutest thing I’d seen, looking a little defeated.
Almost pouting, even. I sat down beside him, tucking my legs beneath me.
I reached for the nape of his neck and the curls that lived there.
I twisted one around my finger. “I have Netflix, though. We can pick one and watch it.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Okay,” he said softly. “I got ice cream, too. Pistachio. That’s still your favorite, right?”
My hand stilled in his hair. Movies and ice cream?
He’d never done anything like this before.
Every time he came over, we went straight to fucking.
Even when we were just friends—if we could’ve even been considered that—he hadn’t gone out of his way to spend quality time with me.
Real, quality time. Especially not time that included my favorite ice cream flavor I had no idea he even knew about.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “It is.” His eyes softened the longer he looked at me. I was melting; dopey and in love and would soon be a puddle at his side. I cleared my throat. “I hope you brought cookie dough for yourself because I’m not sharing mine.”
“How do you know my favorite ice cream?”
My head tilted, arching a brow. “How do you know mine?”
He chuckled softly. “Fair point.”
I wouldn’t subject Emmett to The Notebook, even though he said he’d watch it, so we put on The Shining.
It wasn’t long before I was curled into his side, his arm around me to hold me close.
As much as I loved him holding me, I couldn’t relax.
I didn’t know why he was here, what this meant, or what it was.
Movie nights and ice cream weren’t something friends with benefits did.
But neither was crying to one another. Or playing in the creek.
Or threatening to quit jobs for the other.
So I guess the rules of what fuck buddies could and couldn’t do didn’t apply anymore.
Would this be what dating him would be like?
Movie nights and thoughtful gestures that made me feel seen?
Like so many times before, I imagined going on dates with him; us getting dressed up for each other just to barely make it through dinner before we were tearing at each other’s clothes as we stumbled through the door of the home we shared.
I imagined waking up beside him and making him breakfast. I pictured taking Birch and Willow out for rides to the creek.
I wanted it. All of it. But that wasn’t our reality and wouldn’t be.
About halfway through the movie, Emmett’s fingers began slowly swiping along my thigh in a dizzying back and forth. It didn’t take long before I couldn’t focus on the movie anymore, not that I really was to begin with. But every time he touched me, my mind went a little haywire.
Jack Nicholson had started swinging his axe around when I couldn’t take it anymore.
Not exactly panty-dropping stuff, but Emmett’s hands on me made everything feel sexier.
I tilted my head, nuzzling the crook of his neck, and started leaving little kisses along his skin.
His chest rose with a heavy inhale, and I smiled before kissing him again, this time with my tongue.
His voice was husky when he said, “What are you doing?”
I swung my leg over him and straddled his lap. Pouting, I ran my hands along his chest. “All work and no play makes Lilah a dull girl.” I slowly pulled the tie on my bathrobe open. I shrugged my shoulders, and the plush robe fell away, pooling around my legs.
Emmett’s jaw tightened, swallowing thickly. His hooded gaze fell to my chest before trailing down my stomach to between my legs. He looked at me so intently, so reverently, it was practically tangible.
He didn’t say anything, just looked. And I let him get his fill, having never felt more beautiful than I did when his eyes were on me.
My pulse fluttered when his stare finally met mine.
His eyes were all pupil. The want, the pure desperation, of it lit me up from within.
Warmth pooled between my legs until I ached with it. The kind only he could soothe.
His voice was nothing more than a whisper. “So beautiful.”
I wrapped my hand around his jaw to tip his head back. Our mouths collided roughly in a clash of pure want. He groaned into the kiss, meeting me with just as much ferocity.
A shaky breath slid past my lips when Emmett finally touched me.
It was like stars dancing on my skin, engulfing me in sparkling, tingling warmth.
His hand glided slowly up my back, settling at the nape of my neck.
My nipples hardened at the possessiveness of it.
How he could move me any way he wanted with just a flick of his wrist.
Wordlessly, Emmett spun, laying me down on the couch. He pulled his shirt off before crawling on top of me. I couldn’t stop myself and ran my hands up his arms. Over every ridge and valley of muscle that popped as he supported himself above me.
“I love your arms,” I panted. “Love how strong you are.”
He let out a low hum, lips trailing along my jaw to my neck and chest. My eyes fluttered shut when his mouth wrapped around one of my nipples, sucking gently. “I love your tits,” he replied, just as breathless, before moving to the other. “And these little piercings. So fucking sexy.”
I chuckled. “Lucky for you, there’s two.”
My nipple slid past his lips with a pop. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough. His hand ran up my thigh to hike it up over his hip. “Lucky me has the sexiest woman alive beneath me.”
My heart stuttered, maybe even exploded, I wasn’t sure.
“Sexiest woman alive, huh?” How I even managed to utter the words, I didn’t know.
My head felt full of static. Everything inside me did.
Endless buzzing that only intensified the longer he touched me, as if I was actually his. Like we were together for real.
“Yeah, sugar. I’d have to be blind not to notice how gorgeous you are.”
Butterflies swarmed in my stomach. I reached between us and slid his sweatpants down. “Interesting, considering you never once looked my way in the last twenty-seven years.”
He shifted his weight, taking them off completely.
His skin was scorching against mine. “Sorry, I only recently got my vision restored.” My breath caught when his fingers met my clit, rubbing in slow, soft circles.
I spread my legs wider. My hips tilted up into his hand.
I needed more. Needed everything I knew he could give.
“But now all I see is you,” he whispered. And when he looked at me, it was like he was seeing me.
The words landed like lightning strikes, obliterating everything in their wake. “Emmett.” Say it now. Tell him now.
“I love the way you say my name,” he continued before I could confess, rubbing faster. My lips parted, but nothing came out. Nothing could. “I love the way you look at me when we’re like this. Like you can’t believe this is happening. Like you never want it to end.”
My heart swelled, punching all the air out of my lungs. “I can’t,” I gasped. Choked, really, when two of his fingers slipped inside me like they belonged. I reached for his arm, grip strangling, as I pulled his hand into me harder. “I don’t.”
My body wound tighter with every brush of his fingers. My thighs quaked. Toes curled. Head lolling back, my eyes fluttered shut. “I love how good you are at this.”
“Yeah? You gonna come all over my hand, sweet girl?”
A ragged groan tumbled out of me, nearly there. “No,” I panted, forcing his hand away. “I want you inside me while I come for you.”
A shudder rolled through his body. “Fuck.” He reached between us, gripping his cock.
My hands flew to his hips when he filled me in one swift thrust. It was too much.
Perfect. Everything and then some. His groan rumbled against my chest when he fell forward, caging me with his forearms. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how perfect you feel,” he rasped against my lips.
“Every time with you is like the first.”
I wrapped my legs around him, locking my ankles when he started to move. He was so close we were nearly nose to nose, eyes locked on one another.
“Me neither.” I lifted my head and kissed him, our tongues tangling.
Each slow glide caressed every cell in my body.
And every single one of them belonged to him.
My orgasm built again, heightened with every move Emmett made.
I moaned into the kiss, my thighs tightening around him, hands sinking into his hair.
His thrusts grew more forceful, my couch creaking with each one.
“I love how big you are on top of me,” I whispered. “How safe it makes me feel. Like you won’t let anything happen to me.”
“Never,” he said, and I knew he meant it.
I held onto him tightly, his muscles firm and quaking beneath my grip. “Don’t stop.” I moved beneath him, meeting his thrusts. “I’m so close, baby.”
“Look at me while I make you come,” he demanded through heavy breaths. “Wanna watch the way my girl falls apart.”
My eyes snapped open, meeting his. It was instant, the way he captivated me.
Everything faded until all that was left was him—my Emmett.
My chest went tight, tears burning at the edges of everything, with the intensity of it.
“Come with me,” I begged. I wanted him to be as consumed by this connection we’d built as I was.
His hips stuttered. “Delilah.” His brows pulled together slightly. “I love the way you make me feel,” he said quietly.
It was the closest thing to ‘I love you’ I’d ever dare to dream of getting from him.
I struggled to keep my eyes open as the pleasure ripped through me.
But I did. He did too when he came seconds later.
My name a whisper—a plea or a prayer, I didn’t know—on his lips.
It was the most intimate thing I’d experienced.
By far the most vulnerable I’d ever felt.
I hadn’t even realized that a tear had slipped free until he kissed it away.
He buried his face in the crook of my neck, catching his breath between gentle kisses. His heart hammered like a drum against my chest, mirroring mine.
I stared at my ceiling, terrified at what this meant, because that was the closest I’d ever gotten to making love.
And I’d reached the end of my rope of pretending.