Page 42 of Beautiful Crazy

Emmett wraps his arms around my waist, his hands splayed across my torso, and then spins me around so I’m facing him. He reaches for my hands, placing them on his chest and then returns his hands to my waist, sneaking up just under my sweatshirt so he can feel my skin. I gasp a little at the cherished contact, and then we start to sway.

Wrapping his hands around my body, he pulls me closer to him, an intimate embrace, and slowly dances with me in the middle of the kitchen as his hands wander up and down my bare back – because who wears a bra with a hoodie. His touch is light and smooth as his fingers caress my skin. And then he does something no guy has ever done in my presence.

He sings to me.

Right to me.

In my ear.

I’m the only one who can hear him.

Yep, his voice is for the birds, and he can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but just knowing he’s doing this for me…it’s everything.

He sings to the song that’s coming from the speaker. A Luke Combs tune, about how his girl is unpredictable and unbelievable and how he’s such a fool for her. And with every emotional word that comes from him, the wall I was starting to put up today is crumbling piece by piece.

“I’m sorry I drive you crazy sometimes, Em. But for what it’s worth, you’re a beautiful crazy who has been driving me wild for longer than you realize.”

My cheeks redden and I can’t help but smile at his sweet words. For the first time I look up at his face and see genuinely sincere eyes gazing back at me. He pulls his hands out from under my shirt and slides them into my hair, effectively holding my head, and turns us until we’re against the kitchen sink.

“I’m about to kiss you, Emily. And it’s not because I’m drunk or because I’m lonely or because I’m horny. Well, okay, back up a little bit there because I’m always horny around you,” he chuckles. “But I’m not drunk and I’m not lonely.What I am is a man who has been dying to kiss you so if you don’t want it, now would be the time to say so.”

Gripping his shirt in both of my hands, I slowly pull him toward me. Without so much as a blink, I whisper, “I’ve wanted to kiss you again since that day you kissed me last year, Emmett. Please don’t make me beg.”

“Jesus Christ, Em.”

He closes the space between us and our lips brush against each other. He’s extremely gentle at first, almost timid, like he’s afraid he’ll break me or doesn’t want to seem too eager. We explore each other, our tongues moving together, tasting, feeling. The excitement inside me that accompanies this kiss is euphoric. Like kissing Emmett Fox is what I’ve needed to finally know who I am in this life, and I need more.

I slide my hands down Emmett’s chest, right over his nipples, until I reach his belt line. There I grip his shirt in my hands and moan against his mouth like it’s my plea for him to kiss me like his life depends on it.

And he does just that.

Stepping between my legs, he pushes his body harder against mine, enough that I can feel his arousal between us, tilts my head to the side, and deepens our kiss. I open my mouth wider and his tongue dives in. Emmett lowers his hands and sneaks them under my hoodie again, his hands taking in every inch of my skin underneath.

Every inch except for the one place my body is screaming for him to go.

His thumbs brush against my stomach and his long fingers wrap around my waist. He groans as he slides his hands around my body, feeling my entire back. His tongue flits sensually across my lips as he reaches his thumbs up just enough to finally glide against my two wildly alert nipples.

I gasp against him, my back arching, and he chuckles at my response. “Make no mistake Emily Chesney,” he whispers, bringing his forehead to mine. “I want you. It’s been driving me crazy how much I want you.”

Breathless and only slightly less frustrated I whimper, “Then why aren’t you doing something about it right now?”

“And let all this delicious chicken go to waste?” He smirks.

“Fuck the spicy chicken, Emmett.”

He closes his eyes, a deep chortle rattling through him.

“Oh Emily, I would much rather be fucking you.”

“But why isn’t that day today?”

“Because I need to take things slow with you, Em.”

God, he’s killing me here.

“It’s already been a year, Emmett. How much slower can we go?”

He shakes his head. “That was before I really knew where your head was. Now that I know, I don’t want to go too fast. If we’re going to break rule number five, I want to savor this kind of time with you. I want more from a relationship with you than just sex.

---