Page 69 of Single All the Way

Not the thing itself, not Emerson, but the lack of definition.

It was supposed to be that we’d hook up when opportunity arose or when the mood struck, but I was aching for more.

Literally aching tonight.

Two hours had passed since we’d left the party together. Casually, hands-off, just friends.

What I’d wanted to do was put my arm around her, hold her hand, whisk her away, park along the side of a dark road, and ravish her in my truck like a desperate high school kid.

I still felt the desperate part in my blood. In my dick.

In the week and a half since the snowstorm, since our first time together, she’d sneaked down to my room each night after all the kids were asleep, blown my mind with that body of hers, then crept back up to her room. With the kids home, she didn’t allow herself to fall asleep in my bed, and I understood her reasons.

That didn’t mean I had to like it.

So far tonight, when I was half expecting her and fully needed her, she hadn’t appeared.

About an hour ago, I’d heard a floorboard creak above me, probably one of the kids going to the bathroom or maybe even Emerson. I’d held my breath to see if she made her way down to me, but she hadn’t.

I’d rolled over and told myself to go to sleep. If she showed up, I’d wake up to bliss. If she didn’t, I’d catch up on sleep.

But here I still was, wide awake, hard as hell after watching her from afar all night at the party and not being able to touch her or get my fill of her.

I’d considered texting her something sexy to lure her down, but I’d held off in case she had a kid with her.

I’d thought about going upstairs to check on the kids myself, maybe slipping into her room if everyone was asleep, but that felt like changing the unspoken rules and invading her space.

I already knew she wasn’t as into me as I was her. I didn’t want to pressure her, push her, or crowd her. Didn’t want to do anything to scare her away or endanger what we did have before she moved out.

In other words, I was doing my best to take what she’d give me and not ask for more, but tonight, my body was throbbing for more.

I turned over to my opposite side for the hundredth time and fluffed my pillow, as if that would do a damn bit of good for the heat raging through my blood. As I settled back into the pillow, a faint tapping came from my door. I froze and listened.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

It was deliberate, and it was human.

I popped out of bed, went to the door, and opened it a crack, preparing myself for a kid with a middle-of-the-night crisis, afraid to hope…

Emerson jumped backward, gasping, pressing a hand to her chest.

Opening the door farther, I tugged her into my room, against me, my arm banded around her while I closed the door with the other one. She wore a robe that hit her midthigh over short pajamas.

“I thought you were asleep,” she whispered. “It’s late, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

I moaned, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and said, “You can always wake me.” I lined our bodies up so she wouldn’t miss my erection.

“Yeah?”

“Always.”

Our lips met in a kiss—a slow, tender one, full of gratitude on my side. Everything felt better when I was touching her. When she was in my arms.

“I didn’t think you were going to come tonight,” I eventually said between kisses.

“Xavier had a nightmare. I let him crawl into bed with me and got him calmed down.”

“Poor kid. Did he say what it was about?”

---