Page 87 of Emerson

“Unc Em!”

Dillon is leaning back against the railing, a small tilt to his lips.

And that’s how I end up sitting on the floor of her room, nothing but the star projector light on, sitting back-to-back with Dillon. What started as a foot of space between us has somehow closed to nothing at all. I can feel each one of his breaths against my back. Penny spent a good ten minutes just flipping and flopping around, calling for us. Giggling when we were still right where we have been.

She’s quiet now, eyes closed, wearing her little flower-footed pajamas.

She’s so goddamn cute, it’s sick.

“Do you always have to sit in here like this?” I whisper.

“Yep.” I feel his exhale. We sit still for several minutes more before he moves to his feet with practiced, cautious movements. He stops once he’s on his feet, watching for any movement from the crib. He must decide the coast is clear because then he’s reaching a hand down for me, and I’m being pulled up.

I stop in the hallway and listen for the gentle click of her door being closed.

And I must be a masochistic bitch because I don’t run for the door like I should. No, I let myself be led into his bedroom.

The door clicks just as gently closed as hers did. And then it’s just us.

“You’re a really fucking good dad, Dill.”

He drops his hand from where he had it wrapped around the back of his neck. “Yeah?”

I force a laugh and roll my eyes. “Don’t let it inflate your ego.”

He smirks, then takes a deep breath. I don’t know what words he’s gearing himself up for. I don’t know if I can handle them, so I cut through the distance between us and press my face into his chest.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I press a kiss to the center of his chest, then another higher.

“Emery…” His voice is gentle but thick in the otherwise quiet of the falling night.

“I know you said you didn’t want me here for sex, but can we break another rule?” My hands find the hem of his shirt, and he sucks in a shaky breath when I slide my hands up to find the skin of his abdomen. His muscles flex under my palms when my lips find the hollow of his throat. “Break another rule with me, Dillon Montgomery.”

“So you do read my emails,” he says, looking down at me. He lets me walk him backwards one small step at a time.

“Every one,” I admit quietly, then pull his shirt up until he has to help me to take it off. He tosses it aside, then sits on the bed when the backs of his knees hit the mattress. His eyelids droop when I peel my clothes off, one piece at a time.

He doesn’t let me linger, but I don’t want to. His lips on mine are a shock to my system as much as they are a comfort. His hands on my skin are familiar and electrifying. Every moment with him never feels long enough. No matter how close we are, it never feels close enough.

There is a clock ticking in my mind. Counting down the minutes I have left of this. Reality is on the other side of now, waiting. So I fall into him. I want his mouth to press harder, his hands to touch more.

All the things I feel, all the things I want, sit thick in my throat, muffling my moans as his lubed fingers open me up. His mouth feels hot on my chest, my neck. When he finally brackets my face between his bent arms and pushes inside me, I crack.

“Dillon,” I moan softly, digging my fingertips into the skin of his back.

“Emerson,” he answers back.

“Four months,” I whisper, dragging my hands up to his head. He nods before pressing his forehead against mine.

“Four months, baby.”

Four months.

It’s not the time apart that makes me feel hollow despite how full I am with him pushing inside me. It’s the fact that I don’t trust time not to make him change his mind.

Four months for him to realize I am exactly what he said I would be.

Just a great fuck.