Page 42 of Marrying His Brother

I can’t help the grin that tugs at my lips. “Just for the record, I’m usually a more attentive lover,” I say.

Emily cocks her head, a playful glint in her eye. “I thought you were pretty awesome,” she says, and her voice is flirtatious, the tension between us easing.

I laugh, but it’s a little strained because the truth is, I don’t know how to handle this. I want her—God, do I want her—but I also know how dangerous it is to want her. It blurs the lines, makes things messy, and I’ve spent my entire life keeping things neat and compartmentalized.

“So where do we go from here?” she asks, her tone casual, but I can see the way she’s watching me, the way her eyes search my face for some kind of answer.

My mind races. I should say we forget it happened, keep things professional, stick to the plan. That would be the smart thing, the safe thing. But when I try to force those words out, they don’t come.

Every night, all I can think about is how Emily felt in my arms, the taste of her lips, the way she whispered my name. I want her, and I’m done pretending that I don’t.

Aloud, I say, “I want to believe that we’re two adults who need a physical outlet. You’re a beautiful woman, Emily, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t crazily attracted to you.”

Her eyes widen, and for a second, I think she’s going to laugh it off, make a joke. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she leans back, taking a slow sip of her wine, her gaze never leaving mine. “So, you’re saying this is just about satisfying a need?” she asks.

“Maybe,” I reply, my voice lower, more serious. “Or maybe it’s more than that. I’m still figuring it out. But I know I don’t want to stop. Not unless you want to.”

She considers this for a moment, her eyes searching mine, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head.

Finally, she sets down her glass, a slow, careful smile spreading across her lips. “I don’t want it to stop either,” she says, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest.

Suddenly, I lose my appetite and all I want is to take Emily home.

The air between us shifts, electricity crackling between us. My pulse quickens, and I can see that she’s feeling it too.

I lean forward, lowering my voice, “We could leave now. Head back to the house.”

Her cheeks flush, and she bites her lower lip, glancing down at her plate before looking back up at me. “What about dinner?” she asks, but there’s a teasing lilt to her voice.

I can’t help but grin. “I’m suddenly not very hungry for steak.”

She laughs softly, and the sound is warm, unguarded. “Alright,” she says, her tone light, but, her eyes dark with intent. “Let’s go.”

I wave the waitress over, asking for the check, and she raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, simply brings the bill over and thanks us for dining. I barely glance at it before throwing down my card, impatiently waiting for the transaction to go through.

Emily finishes her wine, watching me the entire time, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. When the waitress returns with my card, I grab it and slide it back into my wallet, ready to get out of here.

As we step outside, the cool evening air hits us, a welcome relief after the warmth of the bistro. Emily is quiet, but her eyes are bright, and there’s a slight tremor in her hands as she adjusts the strap of her purse.

I reach for her, fingers brushing against hers, and she doesn’t pull away. I inhale sharply. I’ve never done this with any woman. Never felt a need to hold her hand or keep her close to me.

My thumb grazes the back of her hand, and she responds by lacing her fingers with mine, a small, simple gesture that sends a jolt straight to my chest.

The drive home is charged, electric. Every time I glance at Emily, she meets my gaze, her eyes dark and inviting. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch. The silence between us is heavy, but not uncomfortable.

It’s like we’re both caught in this current, unable to break free, and I’m not sure I want to.

We’re both quiet but it’s not the awkward, tense silence of the past few weeks. It’s charged, electric, and every time I glance over at her, I can see the same anticipation mirrored in her expression.

I park the car in the driveway, turning off the engine, but neither of us moves to get out right away. I can feel her gaze on me, and when I look over, her lips are slightly parted, her breath shallow.

I turn to her, and for a moment, I forget everything else—why this shouldn’t happen, why I should be keeping my distance. I forget the complications, the rules we set. There’s just her, looking at me like she wants this just as badly as I do.

It’s impossible to resist.

Without a word, I lean in, closing the distance between us, and press my lips to hers. The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but the second she responds, everything else fades away.

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