Trixsters Anonymous
She lets out a mix between a huff and a snort, clutching my forearm and nuzzling into my neck. My arm tingles where it long ago fell asleep when Emi laid across me. I may have protested that her lounger was too small when she begged me to lay with her, but I was wrong. It’s a tight squeeze, but we fit. That is if you count her lying basically on top of me. I didn’t mind, and she passed out almost immediately, her small snores vibrating on my chest as I watched TV. Every hour, I alternated between placing ice and heat on her groin for twenty minutes. She slept through most of it, murmuring something indiscernible each time I got up, then quickly making herself comfortable.
“Emerson?” I circle my thumb on the skin below her ear. “Let’s see if I can get you to bed.”
“Don’t you ever sleep?” she mumbles groggily.
“I’ll sleep much better once we get to a bed.”
“I think Maren drugged me. She put drugs in our pizza.”
“I ate the same pizza and I’m fine.”
“Yeah, but you’re a big guy. You probably wouldn’t notice.”
“I can assure you I’d notice. Besides, if you were drugged, I doubt you’d wake up every hour to let me take care of your leg.”
“Ummmmm, that felt nice.” Her moan sends a direct message to my dick, which starts to stir. It’s been an uphill battle all night with her situated on me, but I’ve kept reminding myself she’s hurt. But when she moans like that, all bets are off.
“Up we go.” I bend at the waist, sitting us up, careful of her position.
“No, wait.” She flattens the hand that’s holding my forearm, and braces. “I think I can walk.”
“Tomorrow, you’ll walk. Tonight, I’ve got you.” I untangle our bodies, my arm shooting with fiery prickles as the circulation flows. Ignoring the discomfort, I get to my feet, bringing her with me.
“I like this.” She places a hand on my shoulder to hold on. “It’s hot that you can carry me like I weigh nothing and take care of me.”
“Hot, huh?” I peek down at her and stop mid step. Her eyes are glazed over with sleep, but she’s staring at me so adoringly my stomach gets the familiar buzz that only she can cause.
“Hot, Walker Scott, you are so hot. I’ve hit the jackpot.”
“There’s still a lot you have to learn about me, Emi. I can assure you I’m not a jackpot.”
“You are to me.” Her eyes flutter closed again and she lets out a breath, falling back asleep.
“Emi?” She doesn’t answer or stir, even when I bend to put her in bed. Thankfully, Maren pulled back her sheets before she left, leaving me to tuck her in.
I kiss her cheek before going to turn off the lights and make sure the doors are locked. There’s a bottle on the counter I didn’t notice when I cleaned the kitchen. I look closer at the label and laugh quietly. Maren didn’t exactly drug Emi, unless you count Aleve PM mixed with two large glasses of white wine.
I pick up the duffle bag I dropped earlier and make my way to her bathroom to get ready for bed. My watch reads four a.m., which means I usually need to get up soon to work out, but seeing as I missed today and Emi’s condition, looks like I’ll miss again. Quickly, I change and brush my teeth then head back to her.
She’s sitting up in bed, looking around, confused until her eyes meet mine. They soften immediately, and she pats the spot next to her. I crawl in, careful of her position until she plops across me and starts running her fingers along my tattoo again.
“I love your tattoos,” she whispers.
“I’m glad.”
“I want one now.” She slurs a bit.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you decide.”
My heart beat races and I star
t to ask more, but her warm breath coats my chest and she’s back asleep.
I reach over and turn off the lamp, my mind spinning with so many things, all of them revolving around Emerson.
The rebel rouser from Summerville that caused trouble every chance he got. The Army grunt who was a sure bet to drop out. The soldier who proved everyone wrong and became an officer of the law.