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We go out, and while I enjoy the time, half of my mind is marinating over his words. Not to worry about titles. Connection is important. The rarity of finding something real.
Have I found something already with Emma? My dick unequivocally screamsyes, recalling the passion she’d shown earlier. Her tight grip as I’d kissed the hell out of her. Those low sounds of need she’d made in the back of her throat. The seductive look in her eyes as she’d slowly unbuttoned her shirt for me.
My heart is on board too, appreciating the genuine caring she’s demonstrated. Offering to come with me to the benefit. Talking with me about my dad. Supporting me every day at work. Her kind nature and generous warmth. Her easy smiles that do more than she knows to soothe something inside me.
It’s only my brain that isn’t convinced, knowing there’s more to it than connection. Than passion.
There’s situation. And right now, I’m in a tough one.
Chapter Seventeen
Emma
“Good evening.”
I nod at the doorman of Serena’s apartment building, not sure what to say. Do I have to explain to him why I’m here? Will they let me up if I don’t?
Another uniformed man walks over, asking, “Miss Shepherd?”
“Yes?” He knows who I am?
“Mrs. Bishop is expecting you on the fourth floor. I’ll call the elevator for you.”
“Oh, thanks.” Talk about service.
“She’s in four-oh-two. Second door on the left.”
“Thanks,” I repeat, not sure what else to say. Am I supposed to tip him or something?
He touches his index and thumb finger to his hat as I step onto the elevator, and I hitch my tote bag higher on my shoulder, being careful not to crush the fabric samples inside. I’d taken an extended lunch, running home to grab some of my dress-making supplies, fairly sure Connor wasn’t going to call me out on abandoning my desk. He’d avoided me for the rest of the day.
Not that I blame him. He’d told me we couldn’t kiss again, which I then proceeded to ignore and kissed him anyway. I didn’t expect it to turn into a full-on makeout session with him grinding against me and feeling me up, but I swear there’d been fireworks between us. I’ve only casually dated a few guys, years ago, but just that brief time in the hallway had been more exciting than anything I can recall.
The only bad thing had been when he pulled away, regret in his eyes as he realized what we’d done. How am I supposed to get closer to him if he thinks it’s wrong?
I knock on Serena’s door, stepping back slightly when there’s a loud bark from the other side.
“Down, Petey,” Serena exclaims as she opens the door, pushing a white dog back with her foot from the open doorway. “Go lay down.” She points to a dog bed over in the corner of the living room and praises him as he trots over. He circles a few times before he plops down, folding his paws in front of him. “Sorry about that,” she says to me. “It’s good that he warns us about visitors, but I don’t want him getting too crazy.”
“Is it okay if I pet him?” I ask, watching as his tail wags happily from the corner, alert even in his seated position.
“Yeah, of course.”
I set my bag and purse down on the coffee table and bend down near Petey’s bed, holding the back of my hand out for him to sniff. He licks my fingers enthusiastically, tail going at top speed, but stays in place like Serena told him. “He’s really well behaved.”
“He’s a good boy,” she says, scratching behind his ears. “And he’s fit in well to our life here. I’m glad we could adopt him.”
“Archer likes him too?” When we were out at dinner last night, he was the most reserved out of everyone. Not cold, but it was hard to get a read on him, seemingly content to sit on the sidelines observing the others.
She laughs lightly, standing and brushing the dog hair off her pants. “You wouldn’t think it, but the two of them are the biggest cuddle bugs at night on the couch.”
Nope. Definitely wouldn’t have thought it.
The man in question exits out of a side room, no sign of hiscuddle bugpersonality present. “You doing your dress stuff now?” His gaze flicks between us, the same as it did at the wedding venue, his dark brows narrowed over those intense blue eyes. Does he suspect what the real reason for our similar eyes is?
I turn away, pretending to search for something in my bag, just so he’ll stop looking.
“Yeah, Emma’s going to take my measurements, and then we’ll look at some sample designs she made.”