Page 19 of There's No Us Without You
Emerson glances at my outstretched hand, but instead of taking it, he wraps me in his arms. “I’m a hugger,” he says, before squeezing the living daylights out of me.
Jesus, it’s like being hugged by a brick wall. He’s so warm, although his skin is still a little damp. And then there’s that calming, earthy scent from last night. The one I wanted to wrap myself in, and the one I’m now breathing in as deep as one can while their lungs are being crushed.
After a long, awkward moment, I slap his back. “I can’t breathe,” I manage to choke out.
Emerson laughs and releases me from his death hug. “Sorry.” He winks, not looking apologetic in the least. “Let’s go touch all of Will’s shit.”
FIVE
Will
I’ve fucked up.Made a huge mistake—which is unlike me. I don’t make mistakes, and I sure as hell don’t make spur-of-the-moment decisions.
Emerson is showing Eden the rest of the house, while I hide out in my room, pacing it like a madman. I’ve been tugging at my hair to the point of pain and now have a headache to match.
Better him than me, I suppose. He’s the fucking rainbow after a storm. All he has to do is grin at someone in that way he does—the one that has my heart beating a little faster every time he directs it at me—and most people are putty in his hands.
Me, on the other hand? I’m the monster under your bed.
One guess who Eden would prefer to hang out with. One hint . . . it’s not a monster. Not that I blame her—I’m not exactly the hearts and roses type of guy.
Last night, Emerson said I didn’t have a heart. I do. I just struggle to show any emotion other than anger. That comes easy.
Although, the moment Eden stepped inside our front door, I was done for. She looked so damn good standing in our house, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her wide green eyes scanning the kitchen like a salivating puppy. All I could think about was losing myself inside her and making Emerson watch.
I scrub my hands over my face to wake myself up from the nightmare I’ve put myself in. I’ve lost my fucking mind.
Usually I take my time, do my research to make sure anyone I let into my life is a good fit.
Apparently, all common sense has flown out the window with this woman, though. Something about Eden has me doing dumb shit—like inviting her to live with us—and I don’t exactly know why.
Sure, physically, I’m attracted to her. The way her hips sway and her large breasts bounce when she walks. She’s stunning. But there’s also something else, something broken and tortured, in desperate need of being put back together again.
When she stumbled into my bar, I knew it was her. Those eyes Emerson spoke about gave me a glimpse of how lost shereally is, and my heart rate sped up the way it did the first time I laid eyes on my best friend.
I could blame Merve and Benny for getting into my head. I could also blame the fact I want to make Emerson happy in any way I can.
He’ll leave me at some stage. Everyone always does. My mother was the first to go. Then my brother. Wren and Koby were the last ones to leave.
Although, their situation is different. They’re just travelling the world and living their lives as they should. Which will be the same for Emerson. He needs to head overseas if he wants to make a name for himself in the soccer world. I refuse to be that arsehole who stands in the way of his success.
I’ll still be here when he comes back.Ifhe comes back. So, I’ll take what I can get for now, even if that means I have to endure the fucking walking dick tease for his sake.
Long dark hair, green eyes, curves for days, and pale skin that’s just begging for me to leave marks on it. The ropes in my room would look so good on her, her arms tied tight behind her back as I bend her over the end of my bed.
Like I knew she would be, she’s already a damn pain in my arse, and I haven’t even touched her—yet. I won’t lay a hand on her, though. Not until she begs me. And maybe not even then.
When I can’t hear Emerson and Eden any longer, I make my way back downstairs. I should probably get back to work. Not because I have to, but because I need to.
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, my phone buzzes in my pocket, so I pull it out and glance at the screen.
For fuck’s sake. It’s my brother again.
Tyler: Please Will. We need to talk.
He’s right, we do need to talk. Just not yet—I’m not ready. I’m not sure I ever will be. He doesn’t deserve my protection after the shit he put me through. Yet here I am, protecting him like I always do.
I scrub a hand over my face and type a message back. It’s the same one I’ve used the last ten times he’s messaged me.
