by Nana Malone
He shook his head to snap out of it. No. Not going to happen. She was his best friend’s little sister. He wasn’t dumb enough to fuck up that kind of situation. So he kept a marginally safe distance between them, figuratively if not literally, because with every down swing of the base, their hips rocked into each other.
He swallowed hard, but then their eyes met and his heart rate thundered. He couldn’t have torn his gaze from her if he’d tried.
She licked her lips and he stilled for just a second, making her lose her footing and bringing her flush against his body.
They both froze, and his muscles bunched tight. Shit, she was so soft. He loved touching her. Except, she’s not yours to touch, is she? He kept trying to think of what her brother would say if he knew what they were up to right now.
Emma released her strangled breath. He felt her body relax into his as she let go of some of the tension. As if it were only the two of them on the edges of the dance floor.
There, in the dark, with a girl he used to know, he wanted to tell her every dark secret he had, and that idea scared the shit out of him.
His hands shifted on her waist so his thumbs traced her hipbones, and Emma’s breath hitched. Good, because if he had to suffer, then she should too. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that her body responded to his.
Wobbly knees forced her to tighten her hold on him. As if responding to her body’s automatic softening, her eyes dipped to his lips.
What the hell am I doing? Zach’s brain tried desperately to take control of the situation. But he didn’t feel like listening. For the first time in longer than he cared to think about, he wanted to hold onto someone, let someone close.
It felt good. Too good.
Just as the last of the tension ebbed out of her body, his thumbs pressed gently against her hipbones, moving her back several inches. He raised his head, and they stood like that for several seconds before Zach realized the song had switched. But he didn’t want to let her go yet.
The music was now something more up-tempo and she turned in his arms, pressing her body against his, her arse grinding back against him. Zach tried to think of statistics of every single Manchester United player. But screw that mind over matter bullshit.
His brain was no match for a sexy, gorgeous woman grinding her arse over his cock. All kinds of dirty thoughts ran through Zach’s mind, his hands clenching her hips tightly in an effort to keep her right there. From this vantage point he could smell her shampoo, her long red tresses tickling his unshaven chin and making his head spin.
Without thinking, he leaned down and nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear, breathing in her scent. She was driving him wild and while he should push her away, he couldn’t. She felt so bloody good in his arms, almost like she belonged there.
They’d missed that moment years ago. Before everything had gone to shit. He’d relived that night over and over again. What if he’d just done what he wanted? Who would they be today?
Steven would beat the snot out of him for all the thoughts running through his mind about Emma. The song’s last strains fell away and she turned back around, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining. “I just absolutely love that song, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he ground out. All she had to do was look down and see how much he had liked that song. “It’s great.”
Another faster song came on but he just looked at her, his hands still gripping her hips tightly, afraid to let go lest he never get to touch her again. Her lips parted and he wanted to kiss her again.
The longing raged through him like a wildfire, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He knew that rush, that feeling of euphoria. He got the same feeling every time he closed a deal. He knew so much of what he had was sheer dumb luck and taking the right opportunities. But Emma is not an opportunity. And she won’t want you once she knows who you really are.
“Zach?” she asked, her eyes searching his, her voice faint over the pulsating music. “Are you okay?”
No, he was far the fuck away from being okay. He wanted to pull her against him and kiss the hell out of her.
“I’m fine,” he bit out, grabbing her hand. “Come on. It’s getting late.”
“What?” she asked, trailing after him as he pulled them through the crowded dance floor and toward the exit. “But we just got here.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice coming out rougher than he had anticipated. “Time to go.”
She fell silent and he inwardly cursed himself for snapping at her. It wasn’t her fault that he was about to have a mental breakdown over one bloody dance.
They made it outside and he stopped on the sidewalk, running a hand through his hair roughly before looking at her. She was watching him with those big green eyes of hers and he felt his knees weaken slightly. She could bring him to his knees with one beckon, one word. The need to have her was killing him, yet this was Emma, not some random girl on the street that he could shag and leave them be. It was time to get the hell out of her sight before he did something he would regret or worse, she would regret.
“I’m sorry, I was feeling claustrophobic,” he muttered. “I’m not good in crowds.”
Emma looked as if she knew he was lying and Zach held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t discover exactly what he was hiding. “Let me take you home,” he added, motioning for a black taxi.
She hesitated and he held his breath, silently begging her not to ask any more questions. He couldn’t take it. He had to get out of here.
“Did I do something wrong?” she finally asked as the cab pulled up to the curb.
“No, you didn’t. I swear.” Zach allowed Emma to enter before climbing in himself, the back of the cab so small that their legs brushed up against one another as he gave the driver the address and they pulled off.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said through tight teeth after a few moments. “I had a nice time.”
“I did too,” he answered. He had, up until he had nearly kissed her. Now he was a fucking mess.
It was a short trip to Emma’s flat and they both climbed out, Zach paying for the cab before waving him off. He would walk home. The fresh air would do him some good. Emma turned toward him and he gave her a grin. “Well, good night,” she stated, pulling him into a hug. “It’s good to have you in the city, Zach. It makes me feel so much better knowing you are around.”
Zach reluctantly put his arms around her, feeling her warm body pressed up against his and tried not to think about how he would love to have her upstairs, naked and writhing under him as he pressed into her. He was going to hell. “You call me if you need anything,” he finally said after a torturous moment. She pulled away and gave him a little wave before disappearing through the door, leaving him to stand out on the street, his hands in his pockets and his cock pressed painfully against his trousers. Bloody hell, he was in serious shit.
13
Emma
Emma hummed softly as she looked in the mirror, fluffing her hair about her shoulders in an effort to keep the curl in the thick tresses. Her hair would never hold curl all that well and she desperately wanted it to today. After all, today was a big day for her. She was going to work.
Turning away from the mirror, she looked around the flat, her thoughts not just on today. They were also on Zach. Last night had started out great, the dinner fabulous, but something in the club had really rattled him and she didn’t think it was because of the crowd either. There had been a moment on the dance floor where she had seen raw hunger in his eyes and thought he was going to kiss her again.
Or had she imagined that? She had wanted him as long as she could remember. Many a time growing up she had dreamed of Zach kissing her; how it would feel; what she would do; what he would do. Her crush on Zach went far back, almost feeling like it was her entire life.
That night before her brother deployed for his basic training, she thought Zach had wanted to kiss her. She had felt it. But he hadn’t and once dawn hit
the sky, he was gone, off to find himself in London. She had been so devastated.
All that emotion had gotten the best of her and it had seemed to do the same for Zach, one moment suspended in time where all was right with the world. But leave it up to her brother to ruin the moment by coming outside and she hadn’t seen Zach since that night.
The last few times she’d seen him seemed a repeat performance. Zach had wanted her; she could feel it. So why wasn’t he acting on it? She wasn’t that kid anymore.
With a sigh, she looked at her watch before grabbing her purse and heading downstairs, walking toward the tube station so she could catch the train to the gallery. She would have never thought that her current situation would involve Zach and sexual tension.
The ride was short and soon she was looking up at the gallery in awe, a towering building with beautiful architecture and quite a few steps leading to the entrance. She had come here once with her class, seeing all the classical sculptures and artwork that they had learned about in the history books. While the rest of the class had seen it as quite boring, she had been in awe. Still was.
Taking a deep breath, she walked up the stairs and into the cool interior of the building, skirting around a group of students as she found her way to the offices off to the side of the exhibits. A man around her age was waiting there, looking down at the mobile phone in his hand as she approached. “Excuse me,” Emma said, capturing his attention. “I’m looking for Mr. Tinsman?”
He looked up and gave her a wry smile. “Well, that would be my father and I’m quite sure he is not here at the moment. I’m sure he would be scandalized by much of the work we exhibit.” Chuckling, he stuck out his hand. “I’m Gareth. You must be Emma.”
She tried not to show her shock at how young the curator was, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “I’m Emma Welsh. Xander Chase sent me.”
“Of course. I’ve been expecting you,” Gareth said, releasing her hand and tucking his phone in his pocket. He was cute in a sort of geeky, nerdy way, his brown hair neatly trimmed and combed, nothing like Zach’s unruly hair but just as thick. His blue eyes peered at her behind black-rimmed glasses and his clothing was reminiscent of something her professors at uni would wear, but with a more modern flare. He wore his tweed rolled up and his brown slacks rolled up at the ankle. Still, he couldn’t be much older than she was.
“You look surprised?”
Shit. She’d been staring. “Sorry. I guess so. You seem young to curate this gallery.”
“Exactly twenty-nine,” he answered with another chuckle. “Trust me, I am more than qualified to be in this position. Care to see my portfolio?”
“Oh no, I am so sorry,” she said apologetically, hoping that she hadn’t offended him by asking his age. “I surely didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t.”
Gareth held up his hand, his eyes twinkling with laughter. “Kidding. That will be your first lesson. Do not believe anything I say unless of course I write it down. Then I mean it.”
“So I have the position?” she asked, hopeful that she was still eligible.
“Well it depends,” Gareth said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you think outside the box with exhibits? The artists and photographers we work with are young, sometimes need a bit of wrangling and more often than not could use a hand in the career guidance department. I need someone who is quick-witted, light on their feet, and willing to work hard.”
Emma swallowed. “That’s me.”
“Are you willing to work for free?”
She started to say yes before arching a brow. “Are you joking with me again?”
Gareth laughed. “You caught on. Great. I mean if you are willing to work for free, we will take that as well but I am betting you would like to receive a paycheck.”
She nodded and he motioned for her to follow him, turning down the hall. “Duly noted then. Come on, let me show you around.”
Emma
Emma walked out feeling as if she were flying. Her time in the gallery had been everything she had hoped for and Gareth had proved to be the best boss, his humor not letting up the entire time she was in his presence. He had turned out to be quite knowledgeable about the gallery, familiarizing her with the current artists exhibiting as well as artists they had coming up. Part of her job would be finding fresh up-and-coming talent. These were her people.
Reaching into her purse, Emma pulled out her mobile phone, scrolling to Zach’s number and briefly thought twice about calling him to tell her good news. But it was already noon, so Laila was at her job and her boss was a stickler about the mobile phone at work. Steven was out running drills somewhere in the Maldives; he’d told her last week. And calling home wasn’t exactly an option. So weird tension or not, Zach was her only choice.
Besides, he would be ecstatic for her, she knew that. And a small piece of her just wanted to hear his voice. She’d dreamed of him last night, doing things to her that she never imagined him doing. Who was she kidding? She’d always had a very active imagination.
And that voice, it just sent her heart into a rapid flutter at the thought of him saying her name. She should call him, invite him out this time so they could celebrate her success together. But she nerves made her belly do a flip. What if he turned her down ?
With a sigh, she pressed the option to message him instead. Maybe she could draw him out that way. Quickly, before she changed her mind, she typed a quick message.
Emma: I guess we’ll need to celebrate again. I got a job today.
Her fingers hovered, stopping just short at inviting him out. She wanted to. Wanted to be near him again. But that was just a bit desperate, wasn’t it? At the last moment, she sent the text as is, not wanting to feel that sting of rejection. Besides, nothing worse than him feeling obligated to spend time with her.
The message showed as delivered and she held her breath, waiting for those three little blinking dots to appear to indicate he was writing back. When they didn’t come, her gut clenched and she forced herself to breathe. Maybe she had misread the entire scene last night. Maybe he had realized that he hadn’t wanted to spend any more time with Steven’s bratty younger sister.
Throwing the phone back into her bag, she headed for the tube that would take her home.
14
Zach
Zach tapped the pen on the desk, looking at the numbers before him but not really computing them in his mind. He was in a foul mood and not even the positive returns on Club Trend could make him smile.
“And we should be able to add the new elevated dancing stage by the end of the month,” Jason was saying, checking another item off his long arse list that he brought weekly to Zach. Since the club was new, they met more regularly than his normal monthly meeting. His calendar was slammed today and Jason was taking his sweet time going through his list this morning. But it wasn’t just Jason’s list that was pissing him off today.
“Are you done yet?” he growled in response.
Jason lowered his list, his eyes narrowed. “When’s the last time you got some sleep?”
Zach ran a hand over his face, feeling tired. “Hell, I don’t know.” He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, not since that text from Emma a few days ago. The one he hadn’t answered
Steven had asked him to watch out for her, but he was sure his mate didn’t mean carry on past a phone call or two. He’d already more than crossed the line. Not that that would normally stop him. But with their pasts and the things he couldn’t tell her, all of this was a bad idea. His past, his present— those were things that Emma’s name shouldn’t be tied with.
His clubs were notorious in London and most of the old Londoners felt as if they were corrupting their youth. His name was attached to those clubs and if Emma wanted to keep her sterling reputation, he needed to stay well away.
“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” Jason asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
He scowled at his laptop. “It’s not the girl,” he muttered under his bre
ath.
Jason chuckled and gathered up his papers, stacking them neatly. “You know I have known you for a long time Zach and have seen you in every possible type of mood. Right now you should be grinning at the fact that the club is living up to every potential that you have hoped for yet you are looking at those numbers like they murdered your best friend.”
Zach laid down the paper and looked at Jason. “Fine. It’s about Emma. She—Bloody hell Jason, I can’t be involved with her.”
It wasn’t just the fact that he wasn’t good enough. He was nothing but a shit kid, as his father used to say, who took up space and wasn’t going to amount to nothing. The wholesome family that Steven and Emma had come from was something that he had seen from the outside looking in. He had proven his father wrong on all levels, but it still didn’t mean he was good enough to be with Emma.
Jason stood. “Then don’t. She’s just a bird. Go find another willing one.”
Zach waited until Jason left the office before leaning back in his chair. Emma wasn’t just any girl. She was Emma and should be off-limits to him. Way off-limits. But he was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. He picked up his mobile and thumbed through the dozens of messages he received from all his managers on a daily basis before finding her name and the last text she had sent a few days ago. In her words, he could feel her excitement and his first instinct had been to respond. After all, she had reached out to him to tell him of her good news.
But as his fingers had hovered over the response, he had forced himself not to respond. The last thing he wanted to do was lead Emma on with a response that would have her thinking more into this relationship they had between them. No, it wasn’t a relationship. It felt more like an obsession.
“Bloody hell,” Zach whispered to himself, throwing the phone on the desk. He was wrestling with feelings that he shouldn’t be having for Emma, thoughts that were well beyond just a friendship. He was better to stay away from her, to offer any assistance she needed from afar. He bloody hell wanted her, craved her.
