She jerked away from his touch. My sweet Emmy was ticklish. “Because the last time I chose, everyone gave me crap about my selection.”
“Cereal for dinner is not a selection,” Hell pointed out. “It’s laziness.”
Emmy scowled at him. “I happen to like cereal, thank you very much.”
A knock at the door sounded and we all turned toward it. Emmy frowned. “Did anyone order up?”
We all shook our heads and Emmy approached the door cautiously. When she checked the peephole, she let out a little squeal and threw the door open. The second it opened and Amber spotted Emmy, she threw herself into Emmy’s arms and they squeezed each other, laughing.
When Amber pulled back, she took her time looking at Emmy’s change of appearance. “Wow, honey. You look great.”
Emmy sighed, holding onto Amber’s hands. “Yeah. I’ve started to wear clothes in my actual size. And you! Look at you. You bounced back so quickly. You look gorgeous.” She then looked around sadly. “Where’s my little man?”
Micah spoke from the open doorway, amused. “Right here, if you’ll let us in.”
Amber moved inside, taking turns hugging us all. Her smile turned wistful. “You know, sometimes I actually miss this.” Her eyes widened. “But then I come to my senses and remember what big babies you all are.” She turned to Emmy, who was exchanging a quick hug with Micah. “Are they giving you hell?”
Emmy looked momentarily stressed. “Only every second of every day.” When Micah parked the stroller and gently lifted his son out of it, handing him to Emmy, she took the little bundle and held him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her eyes landed on his little face and she bit her lip, smiling. She spoke softly, “Hi, Thomas. You don’t me but I already love you.”
Seeing her like this, with a baby in her arms, it did something funny to my insides.
She looked good. She’d be a great mom someday.
Micah smiled warmly at his son. “I don’t want to jinx us but he’s proving to be the most placid, merciful child to have ever been born.”
Amber went to Emmy, gently stroking her son’s cheek. “He eats like a pig and sleeps like a drunken sailor.” She turned a tender look to her husband. “Just like his daddy.” She turned back to her son, smiling with every ounce of motherly love she had to give. “Seriously, whenever he gets antsy, I just sing to him and he passes out. He’s amazing.”
Emmy turned to Noah, glaring. “You knew they were coming, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know for sure.” He looked slighted at the accusation.
Amber explained, “My mom lives here. We spent a couple days with her. We’re just about to meet some friends for lunch and didn’t know if we’d have time to stop by, so I told him not to say anything.”
Emmy’s face fell. “What? No.” She took baby Tom out of his mother’s reach. “You can’t take him away from me. I just got him.”
Micah and Amber exchanged a look and after a while, Micah asked, “How are you at babysitting?”
Emmy’s head shot up excitedly. “Are you serious?” At Amber’s silent smile, Emmy sputtered, “I-I’m great! I used to watch my neighbor’s grandbabies all the time. I can change diapers and, unless you’re breastfeeding, I know how to bottle feed and burp.” She hugged the tiny bundle to her. “Oh my God, I’m so excited!”
Micah chuckled. “We shouldn’t be too long.”
But Emmy shook her head. “Take your time. You guys probably haven’t had too much time alone since he arrived.”
Amber shook her head, looking longingly at her husband. “No, we haven’t.” Micah returned the yearning look and Amber went to the stroller, pulling out a diaper bag. “He’s just eaten but he’ll probably get hungry around two-ish. If you can get him to sleep, he’ll be down a while. And if he gets antsy, just sing to him.” She pulled out a bottle, placing it in the fridge. “You know how to warm it?”
Emmy nodded. “Yes. I’m good.” She placed a soft kiss to baby Tom’s forehead. “We’re good, I swear. Go.”
“Thanks, Emmy. We owe you.” Micah took Amber’s hand and pulled her to the door, stopping only to say goodbye to their firstborn.
Amber gave her son one last kiss then uttered, “You have our numbers if you need anything. You have no idea how much I needed this. Thanks, honey.”
And then they were gone.
Soon, the guys were ready and heading out. Noah jerked his chin in my direction. “You’re not coming?”
Honestly, I just wanted to be alone with Emmy a while. “Nah,” I told him with a grin. “I think I’m gonna rub one out then chill till the interview.”
Noah laughed quietly. “Whatever you need to do, man.” He paused by the sofa, placing a kiss to the top of Emmy’s head. “See you later.”
She nodded and when we were alone, I said, “It looks good on you.” When her curious gaze landed on mine, I clarified, “Motherhood.” Her smile told me she was pleased with hearing that. “You want kids someday?”
“Yeah, I do,” she spoke softly. “What about you?”
“I don’t know.” Truthfully, the idea of fucking up some poor, innocent child rode me hard. I could deal with fucking up my own life but not my child’s. “I don’t think I’m exactly fatherhood material.”
Emmy looked thoughtful. “I think a lot of men feel that way. Then they have a baby.” She smiled tenderly at the infant in her arms. “And everything changes.”
Baby Tom began to fuss and Emmy looked devastated. “Oh, honey pie. What did I do?” She stood, gently rocking him but he wasn’t having it. “Your mommy told me you like singing but I’m not the best at that.” She kissed his brow. “I hope you’re not too harsh a judge.”
When she began to hum, I listened closely. Then she opened her mouth and sang quietly. “Ground control to Major Tom…”
I couldn’t help but smile at her selection. “Space Oddity” by David Bowie. Great song. It was stupid that something as silly as her song choice proved just how much she’d grown as a person.
She was a blooming flower, her petals blocking out the sun.
To stand in her shadow was a privilege I wasn’t worthy of.
Finally, Tom settled and when he was asleep, Emmy placed him gently into his stroller. That was my cue. I stalked over to her, my prey, and the second she noticed my stance, her eyes widened and she backed up, licking her lips. Her hand shot out. “No, Connor.”
Without asking, I lifted her onto the counter and stepped between her knees. “Why not?” Placing my hands on her thighs, I splayed my fingers across them and moved them upward until they landed on her petite hips. “Tom doesn’t mind. Do you, bud?” I peered into the stroller then smirked. “See? He already knows not to cockblock a brother. We’re good, baby. Now.” I leaned in. “Kiss me.”
When her hand came up to stop me from reaching her lips, I nibbled on her finger. She swallowed hard. “Connor, I’m serious. Not while the baby’s here.” She then looked around and stated firmly, “Not in the suite.”
To my cock’s absolute horror, she was serious, and I stopped my ministrations. “Is this what it’s gonna be like when you have kids? Sorry, honey, no sex tonight. The baby’s fast asleep and clearly doesn’t need me right now but I’m gonna sit here and wait for him to wake up?”
“I didn’t say no sex. I said no sex in the same room,” she expounded.
I blinked down at Tom then stared at her. “He can barely open his eyes!”
“He’s right there! What if he wakes up and sees, and then he ends up having some weird sex fetish because of us.” Fuck, she was ridiculous. Why did I like that so much? She shook her head. “I’m not risking it.”
“You know what?” My nose bunched. “I want a divorce.”
Emmy laughed quietly and it hit me right in the balls. “Connor, sweetie. Marriage requires monogamy.” Then suddenly, she looked ashamed of herself. “Hey.” Reaching out, she gripped the front of my tee
and pulled me closer. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I know what monogamy is, smartass. Besides—” I licked at the vee of her fingers, watching closely as her eyes glazed over. “—I told you. I’m over groupies.”
Her brows lowered and after a quiet moment, she asked, “Are you saying that you haven’t been having sex? At all?” She looked baffled by the thought.
My brows arched. “What do you call what we’ve been doing?” At her silence, I revealed, “Hate to break it to ya, Emmy, but that’s sex.”
Those beautiful blue eyes avoided mine. “I know that. I just…” She hesitated. “I just thought it was like a side quest for you. A boredom thing.”
It was. At first. “I’m anything but bored when I’m with you.” I sucked her finger into my mouth and watched those full lips part as she gasped lightly. “I mean, how many other men can say they get to see their best friend’s boobs, huh?”
At that, she blinked. “I’m your best friend?”
I really hadn’t meant to say that but I suppose there was a reason I did. “Yeah,” I revealed slowly, scratching at the stubble on my jaw. “I guess so.” She looked utterly delighted. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed forward. “Kiss me.”
Her surprised laughter was soothing, calming my entire being.
As long as Emmy was happy, so was I.
She struggled out of my playful assault. I pressed my lips to her nose then her forehead, her chin, until finally, she begged me to stop. “Stop! You’re being ridiculous. All this for a kiss?”
“Yes.” I licked the spot under her ear, causing her to squeak then giggle. And I loved every second. Finally, I grumbled, “We haven’t kissed in years.”
“Days,” she corrected with a slight smile.
Didn’t she know that her lips were my therapy? “Baby, please?” One last time, I leaned in and muttered quietly, “I need you.”
I did need her. The more I came to realize this, the more my angst rose.
When she heard my quiet words, her face softened and I knew she’d given in. That was Emmy’s one and only fault.
She was in love with me.
And I pretended not to know.
I didn’t deserve her love. I was an asshole. She was too pure, too innocent, and I would somehow destroy that part of her.
That didn’t mean I didn’t want her.
Jesus.
She was air, and I was dying to breathe.
“Okay,” she near-whispered, then cupped my cheeks with her small hands. When her warm lips touched mine, I took everything she gave. Everything she had to give was breathed into me and like the starving man I was, I ate at her mouth.
Fuck, I wanted her. She had no idea how much or of the affect she had on me.
If God were truly merciful, he’d let me keep Emmy.
As much as it pained me, I knew that wasn’t an option.
Chapter Seventeen
Killer Queen.
Emmy
We were in Portland, two and a half months into Left Turn’s three-month tour. Connor was in my room and this time, I felt completely at ease with his presence. I liked and appreciated what Connor was offering. This thing of ours, this association, held no rules and no pressure. We only fooled around when we both felt like it and there was no disappointment if one person wasn’t up for it.
Tonight, we were talking about tour life.
Connor lay alongside me, on his side, using his arm for a pillow. “They all want or need something.”
“Who? The fans or the groupies?” It had to be the latter and I thought about that. “I don’t think they need you but they certainly want you.”
“No.” He clicked his tongue. “They need us. For social media. For another thousand followers. For fifteen minutes of fame.” He was frustrated tonight. “Do you know what we call ‘em?”
I shook my head gently.
“Jane Does,” he disclosed. At my perplexed expression, he explained, “Same body. Same attitude. Same blown up lips. Half a brain. Interchangeable faces.” He enunciated each word with a tap on top of the covers. “Jane. Does.” Connor looked over at me. “All the same.”
His mood was palpable and I didn’t want to risk upsetting him, so I said nothing, just listened, because sometimes people just needed someone to lend an ear to their incessant rambling. Somehow, it made things better.
Connor reached out for me, his fingertips playing at my wrist. “But you don’t need me, do you?”
That, I could answer. “I don’t think so.”
“No.” He clasped my wrist gently. “You don’t.” He tugged on my hand and uttered, “Wanna play a game?”
And my stomach clenched in anticipation. “What game?”
“It’s called—” His grin was playful. “—let’s fuck.”
My lips pursed in thought. “That’s not very original.”
With a heavy sigh, he released my fingers, threw himself back on the bed and muttered, “Everyone’s a critic.” When he checked his watch, he shot up. “Shit. I gotta go.”
My brow knitted. It was nearly 1:00 a.m. “Where are you going?”
“Got an appointment.” He shrugged into his hoodie. “I’m gettin’ a tat.”
Oh, wow. I immediately sat up and my brows rose. “Can I come?”
Connor looked down at me before scratching at his chin. “I don’t know.”
“Why not?” I was suddenly very sad.
“Well,” he stated matter-of-factly, “you can only come if you get a tattoo.” He ended on a smirk.
“You’re blackmailing me?” I couldn’t believe him.
“Yep.” He popped the p, and I wanted to pop him in the mouth. “So, what’s the verdict? You in or out, baby? Tick tock.”
A tattoo, huh? I suppose I could get something small, tucked away somewhere private. Sure. Why not?
“In,” I told him, standing to get my coat.
Connor grinned. “You never cease to amaze me, teeny thing.” He smacked my ass. “Let’s go.”
The beautiful, tattooed woman stood when Connor and I stepped into her store. She immediately went over to him and hugged him hard. “God. You get hotter every time I see you, Clash.”
He bit the tip of his tongue and kissed her cheek. “And your tits seem to get bigger every time I see you.”
She pushed them up and grinned wide. “I know. Pablo sure likes ‘em.”
Connor pulled back, reached out and gripped my hand, pulling me forward. “Blaire, this is Emmy. Emmy, this is Blaire.”
“Hi.” She smiled kindly.
“Hello.” I took her outstretched hand and shook it. She was gorgeous.
Why did that bother me?
“Okay,” she said with a light clap. “Let me lock up and we’ll get this show on the road.” She twisted the latch on the front door then closed the curtains before switching off the front house lights. As Blaire walked past Connor, she slapped his butt. “Shirt off. I need to shave you.”
Connor slipped off his tee and sat on the black chair, waiting for Blaire to get herself ready. I reached for her portfolio and started to flick through it.
Damn. She was good at her job. From portraits to cartoon grim reapers, her work was solid. No wonder Connor had come to her.
Blaire returned then gently started to shave a small area of Connor’s chest hair away. She peered at me. “Like what you see?”
“Yeah.” I looked down at the open folder. “I can’t believe some of these are tattoos. They look like printed photos. You’re amazing.”
Blaire beamed. “Thanks, babe. I take pride in my work.”
Connor then announced, “Emmy wants a tattoo.” When Blaire’s bows rose, he added a sly, “She’s a virgin.”
Connor!
My heart stopped.
But Blaire’s thick red lips broke out into a smile. “Virgin skin! Yes. I love it. What are you after?”
Just as I went to open my mouth, Conn
or broke in with, “I’ve already decided. I’ll tell you later.”
“Um....” What?
Blaire blinked at me. “You’re letting him choose?” She scoffed then shook her head. “That’s brave, babe.”
“But I’m not,” I told her, then twisted to look at him. “You’re not choosing. I get to choose. It’s my body.”
But Connor simply said, “Sure, I am,” as Blaire applied the stencil paper to his left peck. When she removed it, the transfer that remained was purple. It was a single rose just below his collarbone. I didn’t say a word and he smiled. “Don’t you trust me?”
Disbelieving laughter shot up my throat. “No, not really.”
“That’s weak.” He actually looked wounded at what I’d said. But he tried again. “I swear you’ll like it. I did put some thought into it, you know? Besides,” he said as the needle in Blaire’s hand began to buzz, “Blaire would never let me choose something stupid for you.”
Blaire lifted her head. “This is true. I wouldn’t.”
Okay then.
With a sigh, I couldn’t believe I was allowing this. “If Blaire says it’s good, then—” I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. “—okay. I’ll do it.”
Connor’s foot nudged me and I opened my eyes to look at him. A warm smile graced his beautifully full lips. “You won’t regret it, baby. I promise.”
Forty-five minutes later, Connor’s rose was finished, and when he got up to look at it, he flexed his pecs and my mouth watered. “All right. Nice.” He spun around and spoke directly to Blaire. “You. Let’s design this bitch.”
And so I sat alone for fifteen minutes while Connor explained what he thought should be permanently etched into my skin. I didn’t know if it would be an image or words but Connor seemed pleased with whatever it was, so I kept quiet. He stepped out of the office, beaming. “It’s on.”
Uh oh.
My stomach dipped with nerves.
Then Blaire approached with a small smile. “Although Mr. Clash here would have you believe that you don’t have a choice in this matter, that’s not how I roll. I need you to be sure you want this because if you don’t like it, I’ll just die.”
Clash Page 17
