30. Liam
Bridget meets me at the grocery store Thursday and patiently waits for me to gather my stuff and lock up. I’m glad she suggested dinner because I need the distraction.
There hasn’t been a minute of the day, asleep or awake, without Emmy in my head. Every goddamn second of that night in her office is like a spark, igniting me from the inside out. The slick feel of her, how tight she was when I pushed inside her, the way she said yes when I asked if she wanted me to treat her like a whore.
I’d never have said it if I wasn’t furious. But God, it was hot when she agreed. It’s the first time Emerson has ever given an inch, and what a fucking inch it was.
I wake rock hard every morning and have to actively shut down the memory simply to get through a day of work. I want a repeat more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, and I know she wants one, too, because it was too goddamn good for her not to want it. But she has to come to me this time.
I just hope she doesn’t make me wait long.
Bridget links her arm through mine and lets her head rest against my shoulder for a minute as we walk. “I can’t believe my baby’s really coming home for the rest of the summer! I’m so excited.”
“What changed her mind?” I ask. “I thought she had some big internship.”
Bridget shrugs in a weird way. I’m not sure if it means she doesn’t know or if she simply doesn’t want to tell me, and I’m about to grill her when I see Emerson.
That’s all it takes for every thought that isn’t Emerson-adjacent to vanish.
She’s indecently lovely in her yoga attire, flushed and sweating. It reminds me of her face as she came—cheek pressed to the desk, mouth open. My jaw grinds with the effort to stop thinking about it.
Her gaze meets mine and her smile fades. She turns toward her car, now looking every bit as miserable as I am.
“You gonna tell me who that was?” Bridget asks with a grin.
“You always do this.” I frown, continuing on toward Beck’s. “I get within a hundred feet of anyone with a vagina and you’re there, trying to make it seem like it meant something. I’m doing a job for her, and I’m doing a job for her mom. You want to go meet her mom, too, so you can see which vagina is the better fit?”
Bridget laughs. “You haven’t changed since you were five, Liam. I’d ask you who some cute little girl in your class was and you’d start screaming about how much you hate her.”
I shake my head. “Well, if I screamed it this time, it’d be relatively accurate. Because that one in particular is driving me crazy.”
“I can see why she’d be driving you crazy. I’m straight and married, and I think I want to sleep with that girl.”
I turn up the road to the bar. “This conversation would be a lot more interesting if you weren’t my sister. But since you are, drop it.”
She elbows me. “I’ll stop if you admit it.”
“I’m not admitting something that isn’t true.”
I don’t want to sleep with her. I want to punish her, devour her, make her beg, tear her apart, and put her back together. There wouldn’t be a minute of sleeping.
It’s late that night, and I’m about to climb into bed when Emmy texts.
The Princess
So, was that the soulmate? Is she willing to meet your roof surveillance needs?
Why? Are you jealous?
Of course not. I just don’t know why you’d call me a whore when you’ve had multiple sexual partners in one week.
I didn’t call you a whore. I asked if you wanted me to treat you like one and you said yes. And, I should add, you fucking loved it.
It was okay.
I wasn’t on a date—you saw me with my sister. And you’re jealous.
The fact that I hear nothing back from her pretty much confirms I’m right. Now I just need her to realize it.