Page 32 of Resisting the Temptation (Broken Shelves #3)

Ben

I t took us twenty minutes to leave my parents’ house because Mamà wanted to send Emma home with leftovers, then Cici wanted to exchange numbers so they could go talk more about book recommendations and plan a shopping trip sometime.

Finally, after Mateo gave her a hug—that was a little too long for my liking—we’re on the road to my place.

As soon as we drove away, Emma’s shoulders slumped like a weight was lifted from them.

She’s been quiet ever since, intermittently tapping away on her phone when she receives a text.

I wonder who she’s texting. Is she texting Cici?

Or Jordan to tell them about lunch? Is she telling them she didn’t have a good time and trying to come up with an excuse to leave?

When I glance at her again, her face is pulled down into a frown. Is her mom texting her again? Did something happen with her grandpa ?

It’s truly none of my business, but since I was there when she got the news, I feel like it’s polite to ask, “How’s your grandpa doing?”

She sighs then tips her head back against the headrest and closes her eyes.

“They transferred him back to his house because there’s nothing else they can do for him.

He’s incoherent and out of it most of the time.

I asked my mom again if I could come out and say goodbye, but she said no—and I know I’m an adult and can make my own choices, but not following my mom’s directions is a recipe for disaster.

I found out my two oldest sisters—my dad’s kids, who don’t even know him—are there.

My cousin texted me to ask if I was coming too because apparently everyone else gets to say goodbye to him, but I can’t based on some made up rule my mom’s made.

Probably because I’m the family disappointment, and she doesn’t want me to taint his last few days with my sins. ”

Her mom sounds like a bit of an asshole. I don’t even know how to help her right now, but I want to more than anything.

“Do you want me to take you home? We don’t have to go through with tonight if it’ll be too much for you.”

“No, I want…” she trails off.

“What do you want, Emma?”

“I want you to help me turn my brain off for the night. I don’t want to think anymore,” she whispers, like she’s ashamed of it.

“I can do that. I’ll help you clear your pretty head for a while.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. ”

Emma is quiet as I give her a quick tour of my house. It’s nothing spectacular, just a three-bedroom, two-bathroom, rambler style home. It was a foreclosure, and I spent the better part of a year fixing it up and making it livable.

I try to see it through her eyes. The kitchen isn’t grand like my parents’, but it’s a decent size with butcher block countertops and bluish gray cabinets with gold handles—Cici’s doing.

I would have kept them the ugly beige color they were originally, but Cici told me I needed to make it look homey.

I don’t know if Emma cooks, but I can picture her sitting on the counter while I make dinner.

She’d chatter on about whatever new hyperfixation she has, and I’d listen because as much as I grumble about how much she talks, I love it.

My house is always so quiet, I know she’d breathe life into the still space.

“Nice place,” Emma says distractedly, glancing around the living room. Her gaze snags on an old family photo, and she walks closer to inspect it.

“Thank you. Mamà and Cici helped a lot with the decorations and furniture so it didn’t look like a ‘bachelor pad,’and while I put up a fight initially, I’m grateful because I didn’t have any idea where to start.

” I don’t add that I picked out the furniture for my bedroom, the office, and the guest room, which is only ever used for a specific type of “guest.”

“I was wondering if it was them or Janessa.”

I eye her, trying to read her tone. She doesn’t seem upset I’ve never talked about my ex-fiancée, maybe just a little confused.

“I bought this place after we broke up. ”

“How long ago was that?”

“Almost five years ago, and I bought this place a year after.”

“How long were you two together?”

“We started dating just after college, so almost five years. We were… we were engaged. For two of those years.”

Emma’s mouth pops open into a little “o,” and she nods. “That must have been hard. Ending an engagement.”

“It was hard to separate our lives after spending so long together. But it was the right thing to do. Janessa didn’t want to settle in one place.

She’s a reporter and was always looking for the next story to follow, the next big lead.

She wanted to travel and try living in different places.

I’m content with my life in San Diego and at Rossi, and when I told her I didn’t want to quit my job to follow her around, we decided we weren’t going to work. ”

Emma nods. “That still sucks. Thinking you have a future with someone and then it all just… crumbles.”

I step closer to her. “Sometimes, the things we think we want aren’t the things we need, and sometimes what we need are things we never considered. Sometimes, people are only here for a moment, and others are here forever.”

Emma swallows harshly but doesn’t say anything in response.

“Let me show you my favorite room in the house.” I hold my hand out to her, and she nods and takes it.

Something inside me settles being able to touch her again.

Something warm and gooey seeps through the cracks in my hardened heart—cracks caused by the woman next to me—and fills me with warmth.

Something more than lust, cementing my desire to make her mine for more than one night at a time.

I lead her down the hallway to the spare bedroom and open the door.

At first glance, it looks like any other guest room in any other house.

But the bed frame is custom-made with hidden hooks and slats for restraints.

The dresser in the closet has a lock on it because it’s where I keep all of my supplies.

This room hasn’t been used in any capacity in almost a year.

Emma looks around then spins to face me. “Didn’t you say your room looked like the one at the club? This sure as hell doesn’t.”

She’s right, it doesn’t look like the club’s room. Instead, the room is a nice navy blue with gray accents. I changed the sheets and put on the waterproof mattress protector before tonight in anticipation of Emma agreeing to come home with me.

“I said my room was similar. I think my family would have found it suspicious if I’d painted it black with red under lighting.”

“Fair. That would have been an awkward conversation.”

Fuck, I like seeing her here. Too much.

I step into her personal space so she has to tip her head back to look me in the eyes.

“Are you ready to play, Dulzura ? Are you ready to be my good girl and let me take away all the thoughts in your pretty head?” I stroke down her cheek gently, relishing in the heat that colors them pink. Her eyes hood as she bites her lip.

“Yes, Sir.” And just like that, she slips into her role .

My cock hardens instantly. I’ve missed this. Our dynamic. Having her close.

I’ve missed her.

“I’m going to change out of my clothes. While I’m gone, I want you to strip completely, fold your clothes, and place them on the dresser, then lay on your back on the bed.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’ll be back in a minute. There’s a bathroom just across the hall if you want to freshen up.” I lean in, intending to kiss her on the lips, then remember her rule, diverting my mouth to the top of her shoulder. I kiss her there, then turn and walk out, shutting the door behind me.

I walk into my own bedroom, which reflects my personality a bit more than the rest of the house.

The walls are a dark gray, and the only furniture in here is my bed and side tables.

I go into the mostly empty walk-in closet, and images of Emma’s colorful wardrobe mingling with my clothes almost makes me crack a smile.

I bet she’s as organized with her clothes as she is with her notes. She probably has some intricate organization system she uses.

I strip, leaving only my black boxer briefs on. I’m already tenting them in anticipation of what’s to come, but I squeeze myself through the fabric in an effort to calm down. It isn’t about me tonight.

Emma needs to get out of her head right now, to not have to think about her grandpa or work or anything else plaguing her.

It’s my job to take care of her tonight, to make sure she doesn’t have to feel anything other than pleasure.

A job I take seriously. We haven’t explored overstimulation yet, and I think tonight is the perfect time to do so.

I want her to be boneless and so out of her mind with pleasure she can’t think of anything else.

I stand at my bedroom door and listen for a minute to see if she’s moving around the bathroom in the hall, and when I hear nothing, I open the door and walk to the kitchen. I pop the bottle I need in the microwave so it’s nice and warm, then I make my way to the guest room door.

“I’m coming in, honey,” I call out before I slowly open the door.

I’m pleased to find Emma followed my directions.

Her clothes are neatly folded on the dresser, and she’s laying in the middle of the bed with her eyes closed.

Her chest heaves with every deep inhale, her perfect breasts tempting me to take a bite.

I want to cover them in my marks, leave her with reminders of our time together for days to come.

I pad across the room to the closet, opening the drawer that holds the brand-new toys I bought specifically for Emma. I pull out a vibrator, nipple clamps, and the fuzzy pink handcuffs that I couldn’t resist. They reminded me so much of her vibrant personality I had to get them.

I take everything over to the bed, and Emma’s eyes open, sparkling with interest when she sees what I’m holding.

I hold up the nipple clamps. “Do you know what these are?”

“Nipple clamps, Sir.”