Rush

Chapter 45

Case

I close the door behind Lester, hoping to hell that he didn’t wake Emma with the incessant kick of his foot against my door.

With a coffee in each hand, he walked in and dragged my past into the light of day.

For fuck’s sake.

I don’t want to explain any of the shit that just poured out of his mouth to Emma. I wouldn’t know where to start.

I suck in a deep breath before I turn and start toward the bedroom.

When I round the corner and find her panties and tank top in the hallway right where she dropped them last night, relief washes over me.

I take that as a good sign.

Another few steps bring me to the doorway of my bedroom.

My shoulders tense again.

She’s awake.

Her back is to me as she gazes out the window. Her dark hair is a stark contrast to the white shirt she’s wearing. My shirt.

I’ve never liked it when a woman has helped herself to anything that belongs to me, but I want her to keep the shirt. It looks fucking fantastic on her.

The cups in my hand almost drop when she turns to face me.

Her nipples are pressing against the fabric of the shirt. Since she only fastened a couple of buttons, I can see the top of her thighs and the skin between her breasts.

“Hey.” She lifts a hand before she drops it to her side.

“Emma,” I growl out her name. “You’re awake.”

I’m pointing out the obvious, but I want her to lead this. I need to know whether she heard Lester talking about the worst days of my life in the foyer during his unexpected coffee delivery.

“I just woke up.” She runs a hand through her messy hair.

Nothing in her expression or body language contradicts that, so I step toward her. “Lester brought you a coffee.”

Her lips curve into a smile. “From Palla on Fifth? He’s spoiling me.”

I’ll buy the goddamn café to put a smile like this on her face every day of the week.

Gripping the coffee tighter, I chase the thought away.

This ends when I head back west. My rules. Those are my fucking rules.

Stepping closer, she reaches out a hand. “Which one is mine?”

I hand her the one that has Miss Owens written on the side in red ink. “Here you go, Freckles.”

A pale pink blush rushes over her cheeks. “Thank you.”

I watch as she takes a tentative sip before her eyes close. “There’s nothing quite like that first taste of coffee in the morning.”

It can’t compare to the taste of her last night.

Nothing compares to that.

My gaze wanders to the nightstand and the condom we didn’t have a chance to use. I never sleep more than a couple of hours in one stretch. I thought I’d doze off for a few minutes, sheath myself, and feel her wrapped around me.

“Maybe we can make use of that.”

Her voice jars me back to reality. I shoot her a look. “Tonight.”

“Not now?” She raises a brow.

“I won’t rush our first time.” I lean forward to press a kiss to her soft lips. “I need to go to the office, but tonight we’ll meet back here.”

Her fingertip trails a path over my bottom lip. “I might be persuaded to do that.”

I nip at her finger.

She draws it back with a pout. “That hurt.”

“Don’t play games.” I take her hand in mine. “Agree to be here tonight, Emma.”

“I’ll be here most of the day naked and waiting.”

My cock swells at the thought of her roaming my apartment with nothing on, but Maya has plans with the potential buyer from Boston. Today is the day he wants to look at the place.

I press a kiss to her palm. “Maya’s bringing someone over at four, so…”

“Go hang out somewhere else for a couple of hours,” she finishes for me.

Nodding, I take a sip of the coffee. “I can arrange for you to see a matinee of a show on Broadway, or I can book you a table at Nova for a late lunch.”

Her eyes widen. “That’s all tempting, but I have something I need to take care of, so I’ll handle that today.”

As eager as I am for details, I don’t ask. I won’t pry into her life because I don’t want her to pry into mine.

“I’m going to hit the shower.” I nod toward the bathroom. “I wouldn’t mind the company if you wanted to join. I’d love a front row seat to one of your shower concerts.”

Her chin dips as a wide smile blooms on her lips. “You can hear me when I sing in the shower?”

“Most of Manhattan can,” I jest. “It’s music to the ears of all New Yorkers.”

“Funny.” She slaps a hand across my bare chest. “Let’s save the shower concert for another time.”

Cupping a hand over her cheek, I stare into her eyes. “Promise me that will happen.”