Page 64 of The Emerson Effect
Any of those would work.
When the silence stretches for a bit too long, I ask, “What do you want to do today?” He chuckles as if it should be obvious, and I smack him on the chest, adding, “Besides that.”
He hugs me tighter, saying, “Maybe hang out at the pool, then hit the strip later for dinner and dancing?”
“That sounds good,” I sigh, snuggling into him.
It should feel weird, right? I mean, up until last night, this thing between us was completely fake. Then we kissed at the club, and I spent all night thinking he didn’t want more. But it doesn’t feel weird, being tangled up naked with Emerson in this postcoital bliss.
It feels right.
So fucking right, it almost scares me.
THIRTY-SIX
Emerson
We had a really fun day at the pool today. We ordered lunch poolside, soaked up some sun, made some friends, filmed some BingBangs to post later, and partook in an aggressive game of pool volleyball, in which we dominated.
My girl iscompetitive.
Afterward, we dashed back to our suite where I devoured Twila again, making her scream as she came. Then, we showered together, and she jacked me until I came all over her stomach. I nearly passed out from the sheer pleasure of her touch, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
How Twila’s caresses affect me in a way I’ve never felt before. Howgoodit feels, having her hands on my body. How I want her to never stop touching me. Ever.
Now, she’s in her room getting ready for our second night out, and I’m torn between waiting here in the living room like a gentleman and doing what I really want to do, which is walkingin there to watch her get ready. Of course, if I do that, we may never leave.
Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, in my honest opinion.
She comes out before I decide, and I’m struck dumb at the sight of her. She looks amazing in a white sheath dress that hugs her body and skims the tops of her thighs. She’s paired the dress with a pair of strappy white sandals with chunky heels. Her long, brown hair is pulled up into a high, sleek ponytail, and her makeup is on point and dramatic.
I’m suddenly glad I opted for slacks, a black button down, and a slim-fitting burgundy blazer instead of something more casual.
“You look…divine,” I say after searching for the right word.
Her eyes are drinking me in, and when they lift back up to meet mine, they’re a bit dazed and there’s a bright blush on her cheeks. I chuckle and strike a bodybuilder pose.
“You like?”
She nods and licks her lips. “I do. And thank you. I was afraid my outfit is a bit too much.”
“Not too much,” I say, nodding. “You’re perfect. Are you ready to go?”
She nods again, and when I hold out a hand, she smiles and slips hers into it. We braid our fingers together and leave the room, and God, I can’t stop smiling. I’m just sohappy.
When we exit the elevator near the lobby, I release her hand to press mine against the small of her back. Guiding her lightly, I head for the exit and look for the rideshare I ordered during the ride down. The car is here, so I hold the door for her as she climbs in, then I slide in beside her. I take her hand again, and she holds on tightly.
We head for Elite, a hotel casino that hosts a lavish party in its nightclub every Saturday night. I made reservations both forthe club and an Italian restaurant onsite so we can have some dinner before we head upstairs to party.
Dinner is a nice, quiet affair, and Twila and I dine on pasta and bread while counting no less than three phones aimed in our direction. We grin at each other, knowing footage of us having a romantic meal together while dressed to the nines will appear on BingBang very soon.
When I catch another person filming from the corner of my eye, I reach across the table to run a fingertip over the back of Twila’s hand. Her lips part as she inhales sharply, then settle into a seductive smile. I look toward the person filming, using only my eyes so they won’t see, and Twila gives me an almost imperceptible nod. She’s sees them, too.
Even though we’re hamming it up for the camera, it doesn’t feel…false. I don’t think either of us is faking anything, anymore, which means that little gasp when I touched her hand was real. And knowing that sends the blood in my veins rushing southward.
After I’ve paid the tab, I get up and move around to hold Twila’s chair for her as she stands. Unable to help myself, I pop a kiss on the corner of her mouth before curling my arm around her waist. She smiles as we leave the restaurant, and I can tell it’s a secret smile just for me.
I hold onto her once we’re in the elevator, and she leans into my chest like she knows she belongs there. My chin lifts, and my eyes fall closed as I relish the moment. God, this feels right.
