Page 52 of Emerson

But.

I’ve thought about little fucking else since he crawled to me last night. Every moment of it has been front and center since he left. I want him under my hands again. I want to taste him on my tongue again to see if he’s really as sweet as I remember.

So, maybe I should let him down gently.

But now I know exactly how soft he is under his clothes.

Now I know how sensitive the skin under his belly button is, and that he likes it when I take control.

I know what he sounds like when he comes.

So, I would, but I don’t fucking want to.

I lean back with my hands pressed into the bed and watch him. He’s not pacing tonight, or monologuing every thought his beautiful brain is thinking. He’s watching me back, bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

I want to kiss him.

“Come here, Emery.”

His chest hitches, and he finally moves back closer to me. One step. Two.

“We should have rules,” he murmurs. “Guidelines. We have to be civil about this, and—”

“I want to be way more than civil with you right now.”

His brown eyes look nearly black in the low light. “What nights is Penny here?” He glances back over to the monitor.

“Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.”

“So we can see each other Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

“What about Sundays?” I ask, tilting my head.

“Family night. And I mean, we don’t need to see each other all of those days. If you don’t want to…just lock your window.”

“Or I could text you.”

He rolls his eyes and steps closer. “I’m not unblocking you, Dill.”

“But you’ll sneak into my bedroom at night to fuck?”

“Balance,” he says, sounding a little breathless. He’s almost close enough for me to reach out and grab. I dig my fingertips into the blanket.

“Is that what you want right now?” I ask, dropping my voice lower as he moves closer still. His eyes are locked on my cock, hard and trapped inside my boxers.

“That would be breaking the rules.”

“The rules you just made up thirty seconds ago?”

“I’m making a slight exception tonight.” Emery stops, looking at me in his little PJ set, wearing his fuzzy slippers, with his chest rising and falling just as fast as my own.

Before I can reach out to grab him, he falls to his knees, and once again, Emery is crawling to me. Tonight, instead of him crawling to me in bed, he closes the distance on hands and knees on the hardwood floor. He slinks closer like a cat, and he doesn’t stop until he’s kneeling between my feet.

Fuck.

I grip the blanket in my fists so hard, my knuckles ache.

Emery lifts his hands and hovers them over my knees before resting them hesitantly against me. He’s close enough I can hear him swallow. Close enough I can smell the amber of his skin and watch the blood flood his cheeks to such a pretty fucking pink.