Page 26 of Resisting the Temptation (Broken Shelves #3)

Ben

I can’t believe she’s not listening to me. Well, that’s not entirely true.

I can believe it.

She’s shown time and time again that even if she’s a sweet, perfect little sub in a scene, out in the real world? She doesn’t take orders from me.

I hate that I kind of enjoy it. Enjoy seeing the fire of indignation in her eyes and the way she holds her head up high when she’s standing her ground.

I watch as Jason leads her to the dance floor with a hand on her lower back, too close to her delectable ass for my comfort.

I don’t recognize the song playing, but it’s a slow love ballad. Why this was chosen as the first song, I’ll never know.

I don’t get why they have a dance floor at all, to be honest. We’re not at a fucking prom .

Even if I feel like a high schooler watching the girl I have a crush on dancing with someone else.

No, not a crush. Just fucking.

The song ends, and Emma steps away from Jason and starts walking in my direction. His eyes linger on her ass before our gazes lock. Whatever expression I’m wearing must be intimidating because his cheeks flush in embarrassment before he turns and scurries away to the opposite side of the room.

Good. She’s not for him.

Emma doesn’t acknowledge me as she walks by, just lightly bumps my shoulder as she passes.

I don’t know why her little act of indignation makes me want to smile. Maybe it’s because I know I can punish her for it later. I think maybe a little orgasm denial is in store for tonight…

I track Emma as she says something to Derek and his wife, then to my parents, before leaving the room. I say goodbye to my parents before I leave as well.

It only occurs to me halfway out the door that it may look suspicious I left the same time as Emma. I’ll come up with a cover story if anyone asks questions.

I find Emma sitting on a bench in the front of the hotel next to the valet, tapping away on her phone.

I hand my ticket to the valet and join her on the bench to wait for my car. I glance over at her phone and see she’s typing in her information for an Uber.

“What are you doing?” I bark.

Emma barely glances up from her phone. “Ordering a ride.”

“I’m driving you.”

She scoffs. “No, you’re not. I’m going home. ”

“The hell you are. We had a plan for tonight.” I hope my voice hides the sting of rejection I feel.

“We did, but that plan has been compromised since Drew is going to be at the club. We’ll have to reschedule.”

I gently pull her phone from her grasp before she can finish ordering a car. “You’re coming to my place.”

“The hell I am!” A group of people walk out of the hotel, distracting me enough for her to snatch her phone back. She continues in a harsh whisper, “That blurs the lines, Ben. Our deal is to meet at the club. Going to your house feels too… intimate.”

I see where she’s coming from, but also, “Me being balls deep in your pussy isn’t intimate?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “That’s different, and you know it. If I start going to your house, what’s next? You want me to come over after work instead of waiting until Saturday? We start having sleepovers? We have quickies in the truck on the way to jobsites? The rules are there for a reason, Ben.”

Mierda. Why do I like the idea of her coming over after work, cooking her dinner, then blowing her back out?

Why do I like the idea of waking up with her and being able to sink into her lush body?

Why does the thought of fingering her or having her lips wrapped around my cock in my work truck make me so hot?

It’s got to be because it’s a forbidden fantasy. None of those things are options. Emma’s made it clear she’s not looking for a relationship, and it’s not something I want either…

Right ?

“I propose an amendment to the rules since the club is now compromised. Same rules apply in all other aspects, just a different location.”

Emma chews her bottom lip as she contemplates her options.

After what feels like hours, she sighs. “Fine.”

I suppress a triumphant smile.

The valet arrives with my gray Giulia Quadrifoglio and tosses me the keys.

It may be a few years old—a 2016 model—but I love the sleek design, and it makes me feel connected to my Italian roots.

Like a gentleman, I open the door for Emma and help her get settled in, then I round the car and settle into the driver’s side, keeping an eye out for anyone we might know.

Luckily, it seems everyone is still inside enjoying the party.

Emma runs her hands over the leather seats. “Nice ride.”

“Thanks.”

I don’t usually listen to music, so we sit in silence until we merge onto the freeway when Emma lets out a quiet but sharp gasp, her eyes glued to her phone.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask.

“N-nothing. Just some family stuff.” She doesn’t even look up.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

Clearly, everything is not fine. I should let it go. It’s not what we do, and she clearly doesn’t want to talk to me about it. We don’t ask about personal lives. We don’t share intimate details about families or friends or schedules.

But right now, I don’t give a fuck .

I’m just about to ask her to tell me more when her phone rings, and she groans before answering.

“Hi, Mom. Yes, I got your text. Is he—”

“No, I don’t—but I can—” She throws her head back on a silent groan as she listens to her mom talk.

Emma looks over and gives me an apologetic smile.

I have the overwhelming urge to place my hand on her thigh and give her a reassuring squeeze to show I’m here for her, but I think it would make it worse.

“I was going to ask Jordan—I know, I know . We’d stay at a hotel or with Hannah.

” She pauses, and I can’t hear what her mom is saying on the other end.

“Can I at least FaceTime him? I didn’t get to say goodbye to—” Her voice gets cut off again.

“I know. I understand. Please keep me updated. Okay. Bye.”

Jesus. Does her mom ever let her finish a sentence?

Emma hangs up and presses her fingers to the corners of her eyes and takes three deep breaths before she whispers. “I’m sorry, but I need you to take me home.”

I don’t like how small and fragile her voice sounds. She doesn’t sound like the boisterous, take charge, sunshiney woman I work with every day. She sounds… sad. Defeated.

“I can do that, but I don’t know if I want you to be alone right now.”

“That’s not for you to decide. And I won’t be alone. Jordan’s home.”

Fucking Jordan. Jordan probably knows what’s wrong. Jordan probably knows so many things about her, things she keeps hidden from me.

“Will you tell me what the call was about? ”

“Why does it matter, Ben? This isn’t what we are to each other.”

But maybe I want to be.

The thought takes me by surprise but doesn’t freak me out the way it should.

I don’t have time to examine that right now.

“Because I…” What? Care about her? She’d run for the fucking hills if I were to say that. “Because this puts a damper on our plans, and I know we were both looking forward to tonight. And I’m not heartless despite what you may believe.”

After a heavy sigh, she explains, “My mom texted me to tell me my grandpa is in the hospital. He’s had issues with his knees his whole life and refused to take care of himself properly.

I guess his knee replacement eroded, and now there’s an infection?

I’m not entirely sure other than it’s really, really bad.

Somehow, he broke his leg in the hospital today, and they’re saying there’s nothing they can do other than make him comfortable while they wait for him to—”

Her voice breaks, but she clears her throat and continues, “I told my mom I was going to come to Utah so I could say goodbye, but she doesn’t want me to travel alone, but she also doesn’t want Jordan to stay at her house because it’s a whole thing.

She told me there’s no reason for me to come anyway when I’ll probably just have to come for the funeral later on.

I guess I don’t have to listen to her, but it’s not like I can afford to make two trips, let alone ask someone else to make both. ”

The traffic lights reflect off of the shiny tears streaming down her face, and my heart cracks at the sight .

“She won’t even let me FaceTime him to say goodbye when she knows how much it hurts that I never got to say goodbye to my other grandparents or… other people I’ve lost.”

I give in to the urge to place my hand on her thigh this time, giving her what I hope is a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Dulzura. ”

Emma stiffens at the use of the nickname and squares her shoulders. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Death happens every day, and people move on. Talking to my mom just always rattles me. I’m fine. But I don’t know if I’m in the headspace for a scene tonight.”

The amount of times she said “fine” indicates she’s absolutely not fine , but I don’t know how best to comfort her. I don’t even know if she’d want me to. I don’t know how to handle sad Emma.

Angry, fiery, happy, submissive—yes.

But not sad.

I hate it. Not because she’s showing her emotions, but because she obviously feels like she can’t show them around me, and I have no fucking idea how to help her. But like she pointed out, this isn’t what we are to each other.

“That’s okay. Plug in your address, and I’ll take you home. You said your roommate is home?”

“Yes. They should be back by now.” They? I thought she only had one roommate. She takes my phone and enters her address, which luckily isn’t far off from where we were headed.

The rest of the drive is silent, save for a few residual sniffles from Emma. The silence gives me time to think back on my realization earlier. The one where I realized I might want more from Emma than just a scene partner.

My question is, why doesn’t she want more? She’s obviously an amazing woman anyone would be lucky to have, but from what I’ve gathered, she hasn’t been in a serious relationship in quite some time.

There’s got to be a reason, but I don’t think she’d tell me if I asked out of the blue. There would need to be a level of trust between us we don’t have.

Yet.

Except I don’t even know where to begin with earning her trust outside of our scenes. I’ve dug quite a hole for myself at work, one I’ll need a fleet of dump trucks to fill in.

We pull up in front of a row of quaint little one-story townhomes, which look like they were built in the early 2000s. There’s a wreath with fall leaves and sunflowers on a pink door matching the number of Emma’s address, and I recognize her little blue Honda Civic in the driveway.

“Thanks for the ride, and sorry for ruining our night,” Emma says quietly as she opens the door.

I grab her wrist gently before she can get out. “No apologies necessary. Let me know if you need anything. I mean it, Emma. If you need a distraction or someone to yell at, call me.”

Emma’s lips thin as she gives me a perfunctory nod, then she closes the car door and walks up the driveway to her house.

I wait until she’s inside before pulling away.

I spend the rest of the drive home trying to figure out how to make things more than just casual sex with my coworker. Wanting more is going to cause complications I don’t know how to handle, and I don’t know if she’d even be open to it.

By the time I get home, all I know for certain is I want Emma in any way I can have her, but ideally, I want all of her.

If all she wants is sex, then I’ll give it to her, but I’ll be blurring the lines of our agreement just a smidge.

This is definitely not how I saw tonight going.