Taking the Handoff, page 12
I should call this night off. I’m on the precipice of doing something I can’t take back. Of choosing her when I know I shouldn’t.
When I know my loyalties should lie with her brother.
But…I don’t think I can hold myself back any longer.
She steps closer, her lidded eyes raking over me in my dark denim jeans and black button-down long-sleeved shirt.
Yeah, I dressed up.
Even though I haven’t put a label on it—and I don’t intend to—a big part of me wants this to be a date.
For just one night, I want to pretend like I’m not her brother’s best friend. Like she’s just some woman I met and fell for.
A woman I could actually let myself have and consider a future with.
Instead of doing the smart thing and calling this night off, I open the front door and gesture after her. I walk her to my car and hold open her door. Then I rush back in the house and grab her guitar. She’ll be bummed if she doesn’t have it for this.
She gives me a curious look when I carefully place her guitar case in the back seat, but she doesn’t ask me why I’m bringing it, and I don’t offer her any explanations. I hand her the black satin blindfold I bought for her, knowing she’d figure out my plans as soon as she saw where we were going and wanting the surprise to linger as long as possible.
“Here.”
She stares at it, but her hands remain in her lap. “What’s that?”
“It’s a blindfold. I want it to be a surprise.”
Her gaze slides up to mine, but she remains quiet and takes the blindfold, securing it around her head.
Pleasure thrums through me at the trust she’s placing in me.
The drive is mostly quiet, apart from the alternative music playing softly from my stereo. I catch Emma humming along and smile to myself. When I glance over, my heart beats a little faster at how beautiful she looks with the fading light of the sun making her skin glow.
I have to turn back to the road, knowing if I continue to stare at her, I’ll never want to stop. My chest feels tight and heavy, like there’s a pressure in there that’s unfamiliar but not necessarily unwelcome.
By the time we get close to our destination, I’m so worked up, my body is sparking like a live wire. I really hope she likes this. I’ve never cared so much about impressing a woman, but I care now.
I care with this woman. I want her to be impressed with me.
It’s in this moment, I know it’s too late for me. I want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. She’s everything I never knew I needed, and I know that not even my friendship with Drew will stop me now. I’m too far gone.
I drive a little farther and then park at our destination. I guide her through the entrance until we’re standing at the heart of the stage, her guitar case securely in my other hand. Then I move just in front of her and to the side so I can watch her reaction.
“Okay, take off the blindfold.”
She slides the black satin from her face and blinks, her eyes adjusting to the bright lights. She looks around and then inhales sharply as soon as she realizes where we are.
She turns to me, her eyes wide. “The Hollywood Bowl?”
I nod, clenching my jaw and waiting to hear if she likes it or not.
She looks around again, her eyes roving over every inch from where she stands in the middle of the stage. When she turns back to me, her eyes are watery, but she has the brightest smile on her face outshining the lights around us.
She looks fucking breathtaking, and it no longer feels like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, but that I’m in the freefall before I meet the ground.
Twenty-Three
My gaze locks on his, unshed tears filling my eyes as my heart soars.
I can’t believe he did this. It’s been my dream since I was a little girl to sing on a stage like the Hollywood Bowl. And he made it happen.
I don’t even care if there’s no audience.
He’s here.
He did this for me.
“Luke…” Words die on my tongue because I’m speechless. Hope fills my heart more than it ever has before.
“Play something,” he says, his voice hoarse and low, his eyes locked on me and filled with warmth and something I’m afraid to name because my hopes are already through the roof.
Unpacking my guitar, I pull the strap over my head and adjust my hold. I look back over the empty seats and the bright lights, then close my eyes and strum the chord of the newest song I’ve been working on.
My voice carries swiftly across the bowl, the acoustics heaven to my ears. The song starts slow, but then picks up until I’m belting the chorus, pouring all the emotions stirring in me into the song.
The one thing I’ve always loved most about music is the ability to tell the truth. To put whatever you’re feeling into words and be completely exposed. It’s like you’re cutting yourself open for the world to see, but you’re still protected by the cover of the music.
I can stand here and spill my heart—my hidden truths about a man I love who’s standing five feet away from me—and not feel scared because he has no idea it’s about him.
I strum my guitar, letting the final note fade in the air before opening my eyes, my lashes damp from tears I hadn’t even realized I’d let loose.
Pride and incandescent happiness fill every ounce of my being. I’m on the best kind of high. I turn my head to find Luke staring at me, conflict and pain in his eyes, and the smile falls from my face.
“Was it bad?” I ask, my throat already tightening at the idea he hated it. I absently slide my guitar around my back so I can cross my arms in front of me in some lame attempt to protect myself.
He shakes his head and clenches his jaw before scrubbing his hands over his face. I watch him closely, trying to figure out what’s going on. He seemed fine before I started singing.
It has to be the song.
My heart drops.
Did he figure out it was about him?
“Luke—”
He cuts me off. “I can’t do this anymore.”
I take a shuddering breath and try to shore up my defenses, but I’m wrecked from singing my heart out only moments ago and feeling extra vulnerable.
Nibbling my lip, I say, “Okay.”
He shakes his head, walking toward me. “No, Emma, not okay. I can’t fucking pretend anymore. I can’t stand here and watch you light up and not fucking kiss you.”
My lips part on a gasp, but before I can respond, his mouth is on mine, and my mind goes completely blank as I melt into his kiss.
I’ve dreamed of this moment for most of my life, but the real thing is even more perfect than any dream. His mouth molds with mine like it was made just for me. His tongue licks across the seam of my lips, begging for entry, which I grant without hesitation.
He kisses me like I’m his only way to breathe. Like he’ll waste away if his lips aren’t on mine. I kiss him back with the same intensity and passion, pouring my heart into our kiss.
His hands come up to cup my cheeks and move my head the exact way he wants it. I moan into his mouth, butterflies soaring in my stomach and my hands gripping his hips to keep him against me.
The unmistakable firmness of his erection presses against me, and we both moan at the friction.
He breaks our kiss, leaning his forehead on mine and breathing heavily like he just ran a marathon.
I stare into his eyes, searching for answers.
What was that?
What’s going through his mind right now?
What do I have to do to get him to kiss me again?
“Emma…” he whispers, and his voice is needy, but there’s an underlying pain there. My heart falls and I close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for him to tell me this can never happen again because of Drew.
I’ve never resented my brother. Not when my parents constantly asked me why I couldn’t be like him. Not when he brought Luke home for the first time and claimed him as his. Not even when he struggled to understand my dreams, because in the end he always supported them.
But I’m starting to resent him now. This is the closest to pure happiness I’ve ever felt, like everything I’ve ever wanted is right at the tip of my fingers, and my stupid brother is about to take it away from me.
A tear falls silently down my cheek while I wait for Luke to speak. To dash the hopes he built up so quickly during our kiss. At least I’ll always have the memory of his lips pressed against mine. It’ll have to be enough.
When he still doesn’t say anything, I finally open my eyes and look at him. He’s staring at me, his thumb rubbing circles on my cheek.
I can’t take it anymore. Pulling away, I turn from him and walk toward my guitar case. Maybe if he isn’t touching me when he breaks my heart, it won’t hurt as badly. “It’s okay, Luke. I understand. It was a mistake. A heat of the moment thing. I won’t tell Drew.”
My voice doesn’t break, which is a damn miracle. I wish I could say the same for my heart.
I close the latches on my case and stay squatting, giving myself an extra moment to compose myself before I have to face him again.
“Emma?”
I stand up, pushing my shoulders back, and turn back to him.
His brows are furrowed, his stare locked intently on me. “Do you really think it was a mistake?”
I chew on the inside of my lip, already hating the lie I’m preparing to spew. But he doesn’t give me the chance.
“I don’t.”
My gaze locks on his. “What?”
He starts walking toward me, his expression determined, but still watching me carefully, “I don’t think it was a mistake. Do you?”
My eyes dart frantically between his, searching for some indication that he might be stringing me along. But I don’t see anything but determination, honesty, and concern the longer I let the silence sit between us.
“No,” I finally whisper.
He stands before me now, the toes of his shoes practically touching mine, our gazes never leaving each other. He brushes a lock of my hair behind my ear and lets his hand rest there, his thumb stroking the edge of my jaw. “I could never regret kissing you.”
I’m afraid to speak. Am I dreaming?
But I have to ask, “What about Drew?”
The pain I saw earlier flashes in his eyes, but he blinks it away and focuses on me. “I don’t want to think about Drew right now.”
“What do you want?” My whole body vibrates with nerves, both terrified and excited for his answer.
He leans down, his lips a breath from mine. “You.”
His lips take mine in a kiss that would bring me to my knees if he wasn’t holding me up with his other hand. I don’t know how long we stand there kissing each other, our mouths perfecting a dance I’m convinced they were made for, but we’re both breathless when he finally pulls away.
“Let’s go home.”
* * *
The second the front door closes behind us, his mouth is back on mine.
I worried the whole ride home that he’d talk himself out of this. I convinced myself he’d remember Drew is his best friend and I’m Drew’s sister and Drew would kill us both.
But clearly my worries were for nothing, because his kiss is ravaging, and within moments the only thing I’m thinking about is getting him naked.
I start unbuttoning his shirt, my fingers clumsy and shaking because I’m so desperate for him. He wraps his hands around mine, halting my movements and causing my eyes to glide up his throat until I’m looking into his hazel hues.
“There’s no rush, you know.” There’s a smile in his eyes and a teasing tone to his voice, but I still feel a desperation clawing at me like I absolutely have to rush before he changes his mind.
I’ve thought about this moment a million times since I hit puberty, and it’s already surpassed every single one, so I can only begin to imagine how amazing sex with him will be.
So, yeah, I’m rushing.
We can go slow during round two.
As I stare up at him, I realize I have no idea how to explain how I feel. To tell him I’m like a starving lion in the wild and he’s the first gazelle I’ve seen in months seems a little ridiculous.
Instead, I give him the truest truth. “I don’t want you to change your mind.”
His gaze softens, and his hands slip into my hair, holding my head so I’m forced to keep looking at him. “There’s no way I’m changing my mind about this. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for years,” I whisper, vulnerability seeping through every inch of my body.
I expect pity, but it’s not what he gives me. His piercing stare gets fierce and hungry, and before I know it, his mouth is kissing me everywhere.
My lips.
My jaw.
My neck.
My chest.
He doesn’t leave a single inch untouched by his lips.
When he makes it to my breasts, I slide my fingers into his hair, holding on for dear life because this is already better than any foreplay I’ve ever had.
I rake my nails through his hair and hold his head to my breast. He growls—actually growls—and then stands up tall, staring down at me, his chest heaving in time with mine.
“Fuck it. I’ll go slow next time.”
Yes! Finally!
A squeal leaves my lips when he sweeps me up into his arms like I weigh nothing and carries me up the stairs. I expect him to go to my room since that’s where we’ve been sleeping, but instead he walks down the hall to his room. He puts me down and spins me around, sliding the zipper of my dress down my back until it’s completely undone. His hands glide over the sleeves that already sat off the shoulder and have now slipped down to my elbows. He pushes them completely off and then kneels down and gently tugs the dress over my hips until it falls in a heap on the floor.
His breath fans my lower back as his hands caress my calves and up my thighs. He moves his hand up between my legs and slides his fingers over the sensitive bud where my thighs meet causing me to inhale sharply at the jolt of pleasure. He kisses where my thigh meets my ass cheek, and my eyes close while my head tips back and I struggle to find a breath.
My heart is beating rapidly as he continues his way back up my body, kissing and caressing me so tenderly I’m convinced if I didn’t love him already, this moment would seal my fate. When he stands back up, he gently twists me around until I’m facing him and kisses me, his tongue hungry for mine. Without breaking the kiss, he gently pushes me onto the bed and continues where he left off in the hall downstairs, his mouth mapping my entire body.
By the time his mouth makes it to the apex of my thighs, I’m strung tight like one of my guitar strings. Luke looks up at me, his hooded eyes sending a rush of desire to my core. Without breaking eye contact, he slides his tongue up the seam of my lower lips, his eyes closing in bliss for only a moment before he opens them and does it again, this time sucking my clit into his mouth. My back arches off the bed, and I know if he keeps this up, I’m not going to last long.
His hazel eyes spark at my reaction, and he dives back in like he’s ravenous for something only I can provide.
I have never—I repeat, never—had a man show such enthusiasm for oral sex, but holy shit. Within minutes, stars are flashing before my eyes as I come apart. His mouth doesn’t slow, not even when I drop back to the bed, my chest heaving while I try to catch my breath.
“Again,” he says, his voice a growl.
I lift my head and shake. He has to be kidding. But then my eyes close in ecstasy as he slides a finger inside, then two, hitting that place deep inside. He pumps repeatedly, and the motion combined with the sucking of my clit has me soaring again.
He kisses my thighs and then stands up and removes his shirt in record time. I watch with lidded eyes, enraptured by his six-pack and fit body from hours in the gym every day. It’s his job to stay in shape, and it shows.
As soon as his hands reach for his belt, I sit up, placing my hands on top of his and looking up at him. “Let me.”
He lets his hands drop to his sides and watches me as I unbuckle his belt and pull it slowly through the loops. His lips still glisten from my release, and his eyes are so dark now they almost look brown instead of hazel. I unbutton his pants, then hear the scratch of the zipper, my eyes still glued to his while my hands work to free him from the remainder of his clothes.
I finally look down when he’s completely naked, and my breath stalls. Fuck me, he’s got a beautiful cock.
I’ve never thought of a man’s cock as beautiful before, but I’m salivating at the sight of it. I don’t know if it’s because I’m in love with him or because he’s just that magnificent, but either way, I don’t hesitate in wrapping my lips around the tip and sucking.
He tips his head back and groans, spurring me on. I lick his shaft and gently squeeze his balls before wrapping my lips around and taking him as far as I can. He hits the back of my throat repeatedly before I finally pull my mouth off. When I look up at him, his eyes are hooded, his lips parted, and his chest heaving.
“Don’t stop,” he says hoarsely as he brushes my hair away from my face.
I tip my lips up in a smile and then bob back on his cock. His fingers slide into my hair, and he moves my head at the pace he wants. Wetness floods between my legs as I submit to him and let him use my mouth for his own pleasure.
He doesn’t let me suck him long before he pulls my mouth off his shaft and bends down to kiss my swollen lips.
“No more,” he says, breathing heavily. “I have to be inside you.”
“What are you waiting for? An invitation?”
He smirks and shakes his head. “Smartass,” he mumbles while lifting me up and laying me back on the bed. He reaches over to his nightstand and pulls a condom from the drawer. Once it’s on, he climbs onto the bed and settles on top of me. His cock is primed at my entrance, but he just holds himself over me, and my smile falls from my face at the seriousness of his expression.
His gaze meets mine. “There’s no going back after this.”
