Fast & Wet (The Fast 2)

I don’t feel her pressed up against me anymore and reach my hands out in both directions—ice-cold bed.

Flipping over and scanning around, she isn’t here. The light in the ensuite bathroom is out, and I don’t hear the water running.

“Em?”

Crickets.

Seriously? She took off? After searching my house yesterday like the DEA looking for a stash, bitching me out for not staying the night, she’s the one who’s done the leaving this morning.

Serves me right, but I thought we were done playing these games. The ones where she runs and I chase her.

Throwing on a pair of boxers briefs, I take my frustration out on the dresser drawer by slamming the shit out of it when I see her panties from yesterday still lying on the top. I throw open the bedroom door and go in search of my phone to call her.

We’re never going to get anywhere if we can’t move beyond the past.

I apologized—not for everything, she doesn’t even know the half to it—I told her I’d do better. I meant it, whatever it takes, yet she wants to get even and leave m…

Shit.

Rounding the hallway corner, I see her in the kitchen. Her back is to me, and she’s in front of the stove mixing a bowl of god knows what. There are pots and pans everywhere. It smells like heaven.

She’s in one of my tee shirts—and nothing else. Her hair’s up in a ponytail, and it’s bobbing violently, long brown hair swishing across her shoulders from side to side as she bends her knees and sways her hips back and forth to whatever is playing through the earbuds she has in.

She starts singing along with her music and spikes a pinch of salt into her bowl, Emeril Lagasse style. “When you haven't been where I've been, understand where I'm coming from. While you're up on the hill in your big home, I'm out here risking my dome, just for a bucket or a faster ducket. Just to stay alive yo’ I got to say fuck it. Here is something you can't understand, how I could just kill a man. Here is something you can't understand, how I could just kill a man.”

This is the funny thing about Emily. On the surface, she seems like the well-behaved, scholarly daughter of a military family. Just below, though, is someone with so much more depth, someone rocking out and singing Rage Against the Machine and begging me to do filthy things to her all night long.

It’s an unbelievably hot combination.

She is really getting into it, rolling her head from side to side, wiggling her shoulders up and down, that perfect ass of hers becoming more visible as her shirt hikes up every time she bounces around. I can hear the bass and beat through her earbuds and take a seat at the breakfast counter, perfectly content to watch this show all damn day.

Finally, she spins around while singing and jumps at the sight of me. I love that instead of being embarrassed, she beams back at me, pulls her earbuds out, and slinks between my legs on the kitchen stool.

“Good morning, handsome,” she wraps her hands around my neck and lays those sweet lips on me.

“It’s better now,” I grab a handful of her ass and pull her between my knees.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, you were gone when I woke up,” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“That’s terrible,” her long eyelashes flutter at me, her big brown eyes dancing with mischief. “What’s that like?”

“I didn’t like it.” Her sass earns her a slap on the ass, and she squeaks, prancing back to the stove.

“What is all this?” I ask as I grab a cup of coffee she has brewing and sit back down at the counter. I didn’t know I owned this many pans and utensils.

“Breakfast. There are veggie egg muffins in the oven. Thought those would be good for you to grab before you work out in the morning. Flourless banana pancakes because Liam put the kibosh on regular pancakes, and then a southwest turkey and egg skillet thing.”

“Where did you get all of this?” I don’t have this much food in the house, I don’t think. Also, she actually consulted Liam on what I eat?

“Concierge offered to get it for me when I asked where the nearest grocery is.”

“They do that?”

“Apparently, and apparently you pay for it,” she waves a wooden spoon at me.

“Huh,” never knew that. “Well, thank you, baby. This is… nice.”