Page 48 of Beautifully Broken
Emily turned, arms sliding up around my neck.
My hands found her waist.
And I forgot how to breathe.
She moved into me like she belonged there. Her chest brushed mine with every step. I felt the shape of her hips under my palms, the curve of her waist, the flutter of her pulse where her neck met her shoulder.
She was watching me, but not nervously. Like she already knew what I was thinking.
“You clean up nice,” she murmured.
“So do you.”
“I almost didn’t recognize you in that shirt.”
“Almost?”
She grinned. “I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.”
That made something twist low in my stomach. I swallowed hard and pulled her closer.
She fit against me like a secret I hadn’t meant to tell.
Her hair brushed my chin. I leaned in, pressing my nose against the top of her head, breathing her in again. Her body moved with mine, slow and sure, and every nerve ending I had buzzed to life.
Before I could stop myself, I kissed her temple.
She stilled.
Her head tipped back, and her eyes met mine.
Confused. Searching.
I didn’t wait.
I kissed her.
Her lips parted. Her fingers curled at the back of my neck. She kissed me back—soft at first, then deeper, more certain. Her body pressed closer, and I let myself feel all of it. The want. The fear. The truth I hadn’t let myself say out loud.
I wanted her. And that scared the hell out of me.
Chapter 8
Emily
The bell above the café door jingled as I stepped inside, the scent of espresso and cinnamon washing over me like comfort. The air was cool, a relief from the already-rising summer heat outside.
Jordan was easy to spot near the window, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, skin glowing in that unfair, effortless way. She wore hoops big enough to double as bracelets and a smug expression that told me I’d walked right into a trap.
She didn’t speak as I sat down across from her, just sipped her iced latte and tilted her head like she was studying a particularly juicy plot twist.
I took a long drink of my vanilla cold brew, trying to seem casual. My hands said otherwise—fidgety and unsure.
“You’re being weird,” I finally said.
Jordan smiled, slow and sweet. “Me? Never.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve been dying to say something since I walked in.”
