Page 31 of Breaking the Rules
"Suits you."
"And your mug saysBabysit Harder?"
"I was thinking Carpe Diem."
Her laugh cuts through the tension. "You're… you're kidding right."
I arch a brow.
"It's just so…"
"Obvious?"
"Yeah." Her lips curl into a smile. "Does it really?"
"Don't have a sassy mug."
"Maybe you need one."
"Maybe." I meet her at the dining table. Stack her coffee and her mug neatly.
Her fingers brush mine as she grabs the mug. "Thanks."
"Sure."
She looks up at me. Her eyes fill with something, some hint of apology, then she blinks and the vulnerability is gone. She's all fire again. "Can you wrap this in the dish towel?"
"Sure."
"Thanks." She sets the mug on the table. Turns. Moves into her bedroom.
I wrap the mug. Nestle it in the skirt of a short red dress. It's pure Emma. Stylish. Sexy. Bold.
For a moment, my eyelids flutter closed. I see her in that dress. See her pulling it up her thighs, parting her legs, motioningcome here.
Then I blink and she's there. Crouching over the suitcase. Arranging another pile of clothes. Jeans. T-shirt. Sleek black panties.
Fuck.
My cock stirs.
It's been a long time since a woman has worn something to impress me.
No. The women I fuck aren't trying to impressme. It's empty sex. I'm a warm body, nothing more. There's no connection there. No intimacy. Nothing but two people exchanging orgasms.
This—
This is the most intimate thing I've done outside of rehab in a long fucking time.
Emma looks to me and raises a brow. "Do you need more coffee or something?"
"Always." I need a drink.
That's out of the question.
Which means I need to sort out my shit.
After we finish this.
