Page 60 of The Emerson Effect
It’s like a dream I don’t remember having just came true, and I want this moment to never end.
Her face tilts up toward mine, her eyes open and filled with wild abandon. My heart starts to beat faster than the physical activity warrants, then she does the one thing that seals her fate.
She licks her lips, leaving them wet and parted, and oh, so kissable.
Fuck it.
I dip my head without warning, pressing my mouth to hers the way I’ve wanted to for basically forever. I suck her lower lip between mine, and though I can’t hear it, I feel her moan into my mouth. The pressure on my waistband disappears just before she drives her hands into my hair, gripping it tightly to hold me still as her tongue dips into my mouth to touch mine.
Rational thought disintegrates, and I take over, sliding my hands around her back to hold her against me as I ravage her sweet mouth. She tastes like lime and mint and sunshine. And I’m floating, having an out-of-body experience as every one of my more recent fantasies comes true.
Twila is kissing me back without restraint, and she’s not playacting. This isn’t for show. Just in case people are filming.
No. This is real, and I’m all in.
THIRTY-THREE
Twila
I break off the kiss, and the thumping music assaults my ears once more––like it had been muted while our lips were touching. My wide eyes scan Emerson’s face for any signs that he’s upset. Sure, he was the one who initiated the kiss, but I made it perfectly clear it’s what I wanted beforehand. I was coming onto him like that seriously problematic skunk in my parents’ childhood cartoons.
Emerson’s face is blank, and he’s still dancing, so I try to move, too. My arms and legs won’t cooperate, though, and my movements are jerky and robotic. Emerson doesn’t seem to notice as he continues to watch me, and I can’t tell if he’s okay with what just happened or completely appalled and only did it to make me happy.
We’d agreed to no kisses. At least, not yet. And hell, my desire to taste him had nothing to do with who might be watching. Or filming.
No. That was for me, and me, alone. Well, and maybe a little bit for Emerson.Ifhe actually wanted to kiss me and wasn’t just appeasing me, that is.
My heartrate spikes as he suddenly leans in, bringing his mouth to my ear. The feel of his breath on my sweat-dampened skin makes me shiver, and his words nearly make my knees buckle.
“You taste better than cotton candy.”
My mind flashes back to the picture he sent me from Santa Monica and my spicy reply about wanting to lick the sugar off his lips. I don’t know if his bringing it up now was supposed to be a joke, or not, but I find nothing about it funny.
His words only drive my need higher. I gasp at the intensity of it.
Emerson pulls back so he can meet my eyes again, and this time, I’m sure he’s searching for something. An admission from me that the kiss was a mistake, perhaps? Or maybe, permission to do it again?
Yes, please.
He must find the truth in my eyes, because his lips tremble into a small smile before he leans in, stopping just short of touching his lips to mine. Waiting for me to make the final decision.
When I don’t move away, he brushes his mouth over mine in the softest of caresses. He pulls back a few centimeters, takes a beat, then dives back in, kissing me with so much passion, my knees buckle. His arms tighten around me, holding me up while his tongue twirls around mine.
Every other person in the club disappears. The music fades. There’s just Emerson and me, kissing like we’ve both been waiting for this moment for an eternity.
Heat blooms in my core, and I find myself trying to inch closer even though there’s not an inch of space between us.Emerson moans into my mouth, and one of his hands slides up my back to grip the knot of hair at my nape. He tugs lightly, tilting my head back before kissing a path down my neck to my collarbone. Changing direction, he presses open-mouth kisses along my skin, ending just below my ear. Then he pulls back to meet my gaze.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
Irrational fear snakes down my spine, but I nod anyway. I want this. I want him. It’s theafterthat scares me. What will happen to us? To our agreement?
Taking my hand, Emerson leads me off the dance floor without another word. He holds onto me while we ride the elevator down to the lobby in total silence. We head toward the bank of elevators that rise up to the wing of the hotel where our room is, and Emerson squeezes my hand to comfort me as we wait.
I look over at him, and he smiles.
Several people join us in the elevator car, so we ride up in silence, my hand still gripped tightly in his. Once we get to our room, he releases me to fish his key card out of his wallet, then unlocks the door and pushes it open, holding it for me to enter first.
I’m in a bit of a daze as I walk in and stop in the middle of the common area. I don’t know what to do. Lead the way to my room? Wait for Emerson to make a move and let him take the lead?
