Page 169 of Stolen Moments

My palms sweat, andmy gut churns as I turn down Emery’s street.

I fucked up. Emery’s shut down on me. She was quiet at lunch, and it left our conversation stunted. I know it’s because of my abrupt departure after breakfast yesterday. I so badly wanted to tell her why I had to leave, and I would have if not for the elaborate plan I have in place for tonight.

We were in the middle of having a heated moment, where I was so close to kissing the hell out of her. I would fucking curse the real estate agent for calling at the absolute worst time if I didn’t appreciate all her help. She has been invaluable in getting the escrow paperwork done and processed, as well as working with the sellers to agree on letting me onto the property immediately. They want to divest the house as quickly as I want to acquire it.

Thank fuck.

I spent most of yesterday meeting with contractors, finalizing the paperwork with the bank for the Pine Hills house, and putting my house in Venice on the market. I doubt it will sit empty for very long. It’s in a highly desired neighborhood.

I pull into Emery’s driveway and kill the engine. The lights are on in the window, but the lack of movement behind the curtains sends my heart racing. With a deep breath, I grab the blood-red roses I ordered for my girl—because I couldn’t get the burgundydahlias like last time—and the little white paper bag next to it, then walk to her door.

Henry barks at my knock seconds before Emery opens the door, taking my breath away.

Holy fucking shit.

I’m speechless. My mouth dries like I just ate a stack of saltines, and I almost choke on my tongue.

“Hi.” She smiles, and even though it’s tentative, it’s genuine. She’s still happy to see me.

“You’re a goddamn vision,” is all I can get out. I think she broke my brain.

“Thank you.” Emery laughs.

The tinkling sound warms my chest and kickstarts the neurons in my cerebrum, allowing it to work again. I hand her the bouquet and the little white bag.

She sniffs the flowers, then peeks inside the bag.

“It’s some doggy treats for Henry. I promised the little furball that I would bring him some more.”

She chuckles again, and the warmth in my chest expands, spreading to the rest of my body.Okay, maybe I haven’t completely fucked everything up.

“Would you like to come in for a minute?” she asks.

Her soft, sultry voice is like a shot of blood to my already thickening dick. My eyes drag and gawk down her curvy body. She’s wearing a black pinstripe jumpsuit that makes her legs—even while completely covered—look a mile long. The heart-shaped top accentuates her perky tits, making my mouth water, and the belt cinched around her waist emphasizes her curves in all the right ways.

A minute would be too much time because I might sayfuck it, attack her pouty mouth, and rip that sexy fucking thing off of her body.

“No, baby, we have a reservation we need to get to.”

“Will we be home after the date?”

Home.I doubt she even realizes she said it like this is our home. She is my home.

“We will.”

Her bottom lip pops out, but she recovers quickly.

“You can go and put your flowers in a vase and Henry in his pen. I’ll wait here.”

She looks at me, quizzically, probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me. “Are you sure?”

I give her the short answer. “Yes.”

The truth is, I don’t trust myself. There’s a chance that if I go inside, I might maul her face off and fuck her into oblivion. Then the perfectly planned date I have for us would be ruined.

“Okay. Be right back.”

She slips inside while I stand on her porch, taking deep gulping breaths, trying to calm my nerves—and my cock—down. When she opens the door again, she’s wearing a wool coat that flawlessly matches her lips. A vision of her on her knees with those pretty thick lips wrapped around my thick cock ravages my already fraying control. Tonight is going to be torture.

---