Page 36 of Someone to Call My Own
“Not at all,” I replied. I was no longer willing to give up my friends because Emory was stubborn. “I hope you have an amazing time in Hawaii. I’ll see you when you return.”
“Drive safely,” Gabe said to me as I walked away, making me smile. I didn’t know that I was suffocating on my longing for Emory until I left the wedding. I breathed easier with every step that took me away from the venue. I had nearly reached my sleek, black sedan when I felt Emory’s presence. The strong breeze that suddenly kicked up out of nowhere felt like an omen. The trees that lined the street began to sway; their drying leaves rasping and scraping against each other like my frayed nerves. I had to get away before I snapped and said—or did—something I couldn’t take back.
“Jon.” Emory said my name so softly that it almost felt like a caress.
I stopped at the hood of my car and turned back to face him. The street lamp shone down on me, bathing me in a bright glow, which made the gaps between lamp posts look darker. It had taken several heartbeats before I detected Emory’s movement in the shadows as he got closer to me. Finally, he stepped into the circle of light with me. He looked up into my eyes, and I saw acceptance. Unfortunately, it was a grim acknowledgment, not joyful.
“I didn’t think I had a heart left until I met you, Emory. Watching you struggle to deny what’s happening between us tears me up inside.” I closed the small distance between us and pressed my lips to his forehead. Emory gasped and gripped my shirt at my waist with both hands. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to pull me closer or push me away; I didn’t think he knew either. “I’m not sure I can stay away from you, but I’m going to try. I can’t keep hurting you like this.”
Emory stepped even closer. “Don’t go,” he whispered brokenly. “Not yet.” He raised his head and looked up at me. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and there was no way I could deny him anything. “I don’t have the right to ask—”
“Yes, you do.”
Emory swallowed hard and shook his head. Then he closed his eyes but not before tears escaped and slid down his cheeks. I had never been a tender person—never wanted to be either—but Emory changed that. I brushed his tears away with my thumbs and pulled him tight against me, rocking us back and forth. I knew it was probably the closest thing to a slow dance that I’d ever get with Emory.
“I’m so sorry, Em,” I whispered into his hair.
“For what?” Emory asked, his words muffled by my chest. “You’re not responsible for the hand that fate dealt me. Or are you apologizing for the bartender?”
I slid my hand beneath his chin and tipped his head back so that he looked into my eyes. “If my actions hurt you, then yes, I apologize for them. I was angry and tried to force you out of my mind.”
“Did it work?”
“Not even close, and I regret it more than you’ll ever know.” My answer seemed to mollify him a little bit.
“What am I going to do with you, Jon?”
“I have some suggestions, but you’re not ready to hear them.” I wanted to addyet, but the reality was that Emory might never be ready.
Emory snorted. “Probably not.”
I ran my thumb over his bottom lip, and it was just as soft as I imagined. Emory’s tongue darted out to dampen the flesh I just touched, and it broke the little control I had. “I’m going to kiss you, Emory.” I lowered my head slowly, so he had time to react. Nothing with him needed to be fast or hard—yet.
He swallowed nervously but didn’t pull away or tell me no. I paused just before our lips touched to give him one last chance to reject me. He didn’t, so I pressed my lips against his. We both gasped and pulled back in surprise at the electrical current that ran between us. Emory reached up and touched his lips in disbelief. Then he surprised me by putting his hand on the back of my neck and pulling me to him for a deeper kiss.
My body demanded that I take, but I knew I would ruin everything if I pushed him too far, too fast. I traced his lips with the tip of my tongue learning the shape and taste of them. Emory parted his lips invitingly and sighed softly. I took my sweet time drawing out his pleasure before I eased my tongue into his mouth. My God, I wanted to ravage and devour that sweet mouth, but I loved learning the texture of his tongue as it rubbed and twirled around mine. I tasted the sweetness of the wedding cake he ate and the champagne he drank to toast the new grooms. I wanted so badly to strip him bare and learn every single texture of his slim body, but it wasn’t the right time.
Emory wasn’t immune to me either. I felt his erection pressing against mine as he aligned his body fully against me. The only way for him to get closer was to crawl inside my body. I kept my hands in safe zones; one was on the side of his neck and the other cupped the back of his head. Emory wasn’t as shy and ran his hands up and down my ribcage before he moved them to my lower back. He dug his fingers into the flesh above my waistband when I sucked his tongue into my mouth like I planned to do with his cock someday.
Emory broke our kiss and looked into my eyes. “Jon,” he whispered brokenly. I saw the invitation in his gaze in place of the grim acceptance I saw just a few minutes prior. “Come home with me.” I knew it took a lot for him to speak those words out loud.
“I can’t, Emory. You’re not ready, and I don’t want to be someone you regret. We both deserve better than that.” It killed me to deny him, but for once in my life, I wanted to do the right thing.
Emory jerked out of my arms and walked a few feet from me. “This is just incredible. I finally am ready to give you what you want and—”
“No, Emory,” I said, interrupting him. “You’re just horny.”
“You didn’t seem to mind helping Alexander out when he was horny,” he fired back. “Why is he different?”
“I’m not in love with him!” I roared. Both of us jerked at my confession.Was I out of my fucking mind?
“No,” Emory said, shaking his head. “You can’t love me.”
“It’s fucking crazy, it makes zero sense, yet it’s true. I’m not just attracted to you, Emory. I don’t just want to fuck you. I’m in love with you. I want all the pieces of you, including the ones you think are too shattered to repair. I’m not afraid of your jagged edges, baby.”
“I don’t want you to love me.” Emory’s words cut me deep, testing the commitment I had just made. “I don’t want to love you.” He said he didn’t want to, not that he didn’t. I would hold on to that for as long as it took for him to embrace the idea that we belonged together.
I reached for Emory, but he took another step back. I dropped my hands and took a patient breath. The last thing I wanted to do was push him further away. That kiss would just have to be enough to tide me over until the next time. I promised myself that when it arrived, we would be horizontal and wearing a lot less clothes. I glanced around the neighborhood and saw that an elderly woman was watching us through her big picture window. She wore a large, shapeless nightgown and curlers in her hair. Okay, I also wanted to do it without an audience.