Page 123 of Whistle

I yanked the door, and again, it slammed the second it opened.

“How am I supposed to leave if you won’t let me out?”

“I didn’t tell you to leave.”

“My clothes are downstairs.”

“Wear mine.”

A strangled sound ripped out of me before I could catch it. Riled, I turned, knocking into him as I went, shoving him back.

With space finally between us, I glared, anger swelling my chest. “You have regrets? Fine. You want me to go? I’m going. But telling me to put on your clothes while you’re still inside me is fucking cruel, Emmett. I’ve always known you’re an asshole, but I never thought you were cruel.”

He drew back as though I’d slapped him. “Bod?—”

“Oh, fuck off,” I snapped. “It’s not like it matters anyway. Landry moved in with Rush. She isn’t here to see.”

His face went blank, brows pinched together in confusion, and then he blinked. Blinked again. “What?”

“What?” I echoed. Did he not know about that? Oops. But also, not my problem.

I whirled. The door banged against the wall when I flung it wide and went into the hall. Before I made it to the steps, I was snatched from behind, lifted off my feet, and carried back into a room that smelled like sex and us.

I had no idea we had a scent, but there it was. Unmistakably us.

All the air whooshed out of me when my back hit the mattress. He pounced on me, his weight pinning me in place. I started to fight, but he locked both my wrists with one of his oversized hands and restrained them above my head.

That’s okay. What I lacked in size, I made up for in mouth.

He silenced that too, dipping his head and claiming me in a searing kiss. I groaned, melting instantly as his tongue swirled around mine, teasing and cajoling. Just like that, I forgot he’d pissed me the hell off, as I was lost to the undeniable pull between us. At first, it was a grinding sort of kiss, a punctuation to an argument, but then it shifted just like the air around us. Our lips met again and again, caressing and rubbing, having a conversation all their own—much better than the one he and I always seemed to have.

Words didn’t matter in this moment because we bypassed them with passion and the tangible way our hearts seemed to sync in the moment. Words were indeed power, but Emmett’s kiss was law, and it commanded my heart in a way that completely overruled my mind and turned me into this malleable thing for him to mold.

When our lips popped apart, his lids were heavy and I was gasping for breath.

“We are shit at talking,” he whispered, gaze caressing my face.

I said nothing, just stared back at him, trying to memorize the planes and angles of his face.

“I didn’t tell you to get dressed because I wanted you to leave.”

My eyes skipped up to his.

“Well…” He grimaced. “I do but not like that.”

“Explain, asshole.”

“I’m trying, brat.”

I kept my lips closed, generously offering another chance. See? I was getting better at this. I’d have to tell my therapist.

“I want to take you somewhere,” he said.

“It’s late.”

“I didn’t know brats had curfews.”

“They don’t, but old men do!” I sassed.

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