At Any Moment (Gaming The System Book 3)

by Brenna Aubrey

  “So you know that my love is not about your looks…any more than yours is for me…right? Or do you love me just for how I look?”

  I smiled, almost wishing I could make a joke, but I didn’t want to spoil the moment. “Hmm. I love the man who makes breakfast for me even when he can’t make toast without burning it.” He laughed, continued to trace his fingers over my mouth, my jaw. I closed my eyes, relishing the feel.

  “I love the man who signs his notes to me with a lopsided heart. I love the man who…listens to songs only old people and hipsters know.” He barked out another laugh. I smiled. “I love the man who was there for me…all the time, even when I wasn’t there.”

  Silence again and the bubbles fizzed around us.

  Minutes later, muttering that I was turning into a prune, I carefully got out of the tub. He lay back and watched me cinch a fluffy terry robe around me before finally dropping the now-soaked towel. I snagged the other bathrobe and laid it near, where he could grab it when he got out.

  “Hey, farm girl, what about me? Do I get my back washed?”

  I sent him a lopsided grin and ducked my head. “As you wish.”

  But it was hard—damn hard, rubbing the soapy washcloth over his muscular back, down his trapezius muscles and then down to his lower back along his latissimus dorsi, then to his narrow waist. Oh God, he was just too sexy for his own good. And touching him had riled me up again. It wasn’t fair. I was healthy enough to have an over-the-top sex drive but apparently not healthy enough for him until that clean scan came back. I sat back with a sigh of sexual frustration.

  “There. And now, I’ll be in my bunk,” I said.

  Adam laughed. Firefly was one of his favorite shows.

  I got up and went into the bedroom where I sat in the dark and listened to him in the bathtub. The real reason I’d gotten out of the tub was that it hurt too much to keep hiding myself from him. I knew he’d wanted me to drop the towel and stop covering myself. I was hiding from him, in so many ways. Hiding from myself too.

  I lay down on the bed and relived those beautiful moments with him where we sat together, where he told me I want to see you. I want to touch you. My daydreaming self was much braver than my real self and so in my fantasy, I dropped the towel and he looked at me. And instead of the disgust I feared in his eyes, I only saw desire. Hot desire. When Adam was turned on, his dark eyes glowed with it. They were luminous, beautiful. Like smoldering coals.

  I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight, my heart racing with my own desire. I pictured Adam’s hands sliding up my waist, moving over my breasts. I remembered how it had felt the other night, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples repeatedly. Lust arced through me and despite the irony of joking that I’d be in my bunk, my hand went between my legs because the tension that had been building in me since arrival was now full to bursting and I couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn’t going to touch me until we knew for sure I was better. But I couldn’t wait any longer.

  I let out a little moan. It was my hand but I imagined it was his and in the middle of my fantasy, I felt a weight sag the bed. I stopped, opening my eyes and looked up. Adam sat on the bed beside me, watching me. He’d never caught me in the act before and in my daze I realized I should probably be embarrassed but I was just too turned on to be. And the fact that he was sitting there, watching me, turned me on even more.

  He bent down and kissed me, took my hand and put it back where it had been, rubbing against my clitoris. His hand settled on top of mine, pressing it down. And he was penetrating me, his tongue in my mouth and his fingers inside me. I cried out but it was muffled by his mouth.

  When he pulled his mouth away, he was whispering things that made the nerve endings dance all over the surface of my skin. “You are so sexy, Emilia. My sexy, naughty girl. I want to watch you come. I want to hear you.”

  I gasped again. “I’m imagining you on top of me. Inside me.”

  He groaned and kissed me again, my mouth, my neck, my ears. He lay down beside me, his robe falling open and I could see the corded muscles of his chest, the edge of his tattoo peeking out from under the snowy white. “I wish you could fuck me, Adam. I want you so much.”

  “I want you too. I want to pleasure you. I want to make you feel good. Do you feel good?”

  “Yes, yes, I feel good.”

  He moved again, pushing my legs open, he placed himself between them. My thighs pressed against his sturdy shoulders and he was licking me. I yelped and grabbed the headboard behind me, my eyes rolling back. It felt—So. Damn. Good. Every part of me was on fire and I was breathing so fast I couldn’t catch my breath. All I could feel was that point of my body where Adam’s mouth connected to me, his tongue penetrating, his mouth sucking. My back arched and I was coming so violently that my hips bucked off the bed and collided with his head. He jerked back and held me down, then put his mouth against me again, refusing to let up until the powerful convulsions had stopped and I was whimpering, begging for him to take his mouth away because the feelings were so intense they now hurt…

  My body was plunged into lassitude, every bit of tension rung from it like a damp rag. I could only lie there and relish that stunning afterglow that had me flying so high. Adam straightened and looked at me, then ran a hand over my stomach before moving up to lie beside me. We lay like that for a long time, the tops of our heads pressed together but no other part of us touching. I reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing my fingers around his.

  Then he turned and did the most wonderful thing of all. He said, “Don’t let that shitty voice inside your head tell you that you aren’t sexy. Ever. Because you are burning a hole right through me. And I love it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Adam

  Two days after we returned home, Emilia went in for her scan. I could hardly breathe at all the entire day. And I had to sit in a waiting room in the hospital while she was gone for hours, much of the time locked inside a giant machine, keeping absolutely still. At least that’s how they’d explained it would happen.

  Since waking up that morning and getting ready, she’d been unusually quiet. And just before being called back, she had taken off the compass I’d given her—probably one of the few times it was ever off of her body, but she had been prohibited to wear or hold it during the scan. She’d pressed it into my palm and made me swear to keep it safe. I looked down into my palm now, studying the dark blue surface, the constellation outlined in diamonds. My throat closed with emotion and I stuffed it in my shirt pocket.

  I glanced across from me where Kim sat paging jerkily through a magazine without reading it. My Uncle Peter had a hand on her leg, watching her with concerned eyes. My leg tapped up and down repeatedly.

  She was going to be okay. I’d repeated that phrase in my head a thousand times since waking up. It was my mantra today. The scans would come back clean and we’d be able to breathe again. If all it took was sheer thought power on my part, we’d have this in the bag. Because I’d dedicated every spare thought and feeling to this outcome for weeks.

  Peter looked up and we shared a glance, and then I shot out of my seat and went to the water cooler down the hall for what seemed like the twentieth time. Peter was beside me a minute later.

  “You okay?” he asked quietly.

  “Trying to be,” I answered.

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “You know you can talk to me whenever you need to.”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t try to be the strong, silent type here. I know it’s your personality. You’re just like your dad in that respect.”

  I shrugged and took a sip of water. “If you say so.”

  “Adam, I know we don’t like to talk about these things much. I know you and I have had some kind of silent understanding since you came to live under our roof but—I just need to say this. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my son. I’ve loved you since you were born and I was glad and fortunate to have been able to help raise you. Your dad was my favorite brother.”


  I laughed. “My dad was your only brother.”

  He grinned. “Details. But he wasn’t just my brother, he was my best friend. It was hard to lose him but having you here, in my life, it’s like having him still. And I want you to know that I’m here for you. If you ever need to talk or…for whatever.”

  I set the cup down and looked at him. This was weird. Peter rarely talked to me like this. We’d always had a good relationship but it never involved much talking. I always knew that Peter got me on a deeper level than talking. He was the father I never knew. I smiled. “Thanks. I love you too.” I reached out and clasped his shoulder.

  And to my surprise, he pulled me into a hug. Weirder and weirder. It was an awkward man-hug sort of thing, which involved some backslapping. Just when I deemed it appropriate to pull away, he turned his head and said quietly. “She’s going to be okay.”

  My breath froze and I stepped back. I looked away and nodded. I wasn’t the only one fixated on that hope, that thought, apparently.

  An hour later, she came out, fully dressed. She looked exhausted, with circles under her eyes, and I thought my eyes deceived me but she looked pale, too. She immediately asked me for her compass back. I pulled it out and slipped it over her head.

  Kim and Peter had said something about going out to get some lunch but Emilia had quietly shaken her head and tucked herself under my arm, asking me to take her home.

  So I did.

  The next twenty-four hours were hell. This was the time it took to get her doctors to go over her scans in minute detail and determine whether or not the cancer was still in her, and God forbid, whether or not it had spread to other parts of her body.

  We spoke little. Watched a lot of television together. We made it through the entire fourth—and final—season of Farscape. We sat in the same lounge chair, my arms around her waist, her head on my shoulder.

  The next day when her phone finally rang, we both jumped. It was her doctor’s office. With a look of no small terror, Emilia answered.

  “Hey, Dr. Rivera,” she said, sounding completely normal, if a little breathy. Her hand reached out and clamped fiercely around mine. I sat beside where she stood and looked up in her face, hoping to be able to tell what the news would be.

  “Okay,” she said, darting a glance at me and then looking away. “Should I come in?”

  Another long pause. Her face showed nothing. She took a deep breath and the hand around mine squeezed tighter. I had no idea what that meant.

  “Thank you. Yes. Next week, then. Yeah—I’ll do that right away. Thanks.”

  She immediately clicked off the phone and I stared at her expectantly.

  Her mouth turned up. “No evidence of disease,” she said in a trembling voice.

  I shot up and pulled her into my arms, squeezing her tight. The air rushed out of me in dizzying relief. “Oh, thank God. Thank God.” I lifted her off the ground and twirled her around me.

  She laughed, her arms tightening around my neck. I kissed her cheek, her neck, her face, her ear. Wherever I could reach her, I kissed her. She laughed even harder.

  “You have to put me down,” she finally said.

  “I don’t want to put you down.”

  She laughed, turning her face to mine and planting a solid kiss on my mouth. “If you don’t put me down and I don’t call my mom in the next five minutes, she’ll come after you with a spoon to dig your heart out.”

  “Mmm.” I tilted my head to the side as if considering the risk versus the reward. “I guess I can let you down for a few minutes.”

  “I think we both need to make a lot of phone calls.” She walked over to her nightstand, grabbed up a slip of paper and then tore it in half longwise. “You take this half of the list and I’ll take the other. Let’s get this done quickly or we are going to be up until midnight.”

  I pulled out my phone and as silly as it was, we sat on her bed side by side and made it through the list in just a few hours.

  When we were done, I sighed and flopped back on the bed. “We’ve got that Bay Island charity house tour thing tomorrow but after that we need to do something special to celebrate.”

  She seemed to deflate at the mention of the benefit. I turned, propped my head up on my hand to watch her. “I hope you don’t mind… I bought some tickets for our friends. So there will be people that you know there—Jenna, Alex, Heath, Kat, my cousins…”

  She threw me a slanted smile. “We don’t need to crash your charity thingy with my nerd herd.”

  I laughed. “I thought you might be more comfortable if they were there.”

  Her lips pursed. “Actually I was going to bow out of that, if that’s okay with you.”

  I didn’t say anything and she scrutinized my face.

  “It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  “I’d like you to go—to be by my side.”

  She hesitated and looked down for a long moment, then squared her shoulders. “Okay. I can do it for you. I’m sorry. That hadn’t even occurred to me.”

  I did want her to go. But it was more for her good than for mine. She’d have to get used to being seen in public again. It had been easier for her in Paris, where everyone was a stranger. But work acquaintances and friends, apparently, were a much tougher crowd for her.

  I called up Sonia and asked her to come over, bring us a new batch of clothes and arrange for a make-up artist to come on the day of the benefit. The better Emilia felt about her looks, the easier it would be for her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Mia

  I was doing this for Adam. He wanted me there. I had to repeat that to myself several times the next morning when I wanted to hyperventilate and back down, the fear so strong it threatened to steal my breath.

  Hanging out with my friends, in small groups, was one thing. Even in public where the public was at a distance—like in Paris—that was fine. But here…at his house, it was different.

  There would be people I’d worked with at Draco, and some of Adam’s rich and important friends. I had decided to chicken out when the make-up artist had finished with my face. She’d done my eyebrows realistically and applied some lovely fake eyelashes—though my natural ones were almost all the way in. But nothing could account for the tiny bit of fuzz covering my scalp. We tried on three or four different wigs but none of them looked right. I settled on one with a short bob cut, the hair similar to my own natural color.

  I was wearing a colorful dress that fit my standards—a high, scooped neckline. There was little to complain about, really, with my looks. Yes, I looked different, but I now looked better than I had in months.

  I clamped my hands over my knees, rocked back and forth. I didn’t want to go and there was no way I could force myself to do it. Not even with the lure of my friends, who had been invited. I was going to cower in the house until the last possible minute and hope that eventually, they’d come inside and hang out with me while we watched the hoity-toity charity-giving crowd mill around the gardens, board the yacht and schmooze with Adam.

  There would be drinks and hors d’oeuvres on the lawn and then the group would progress to a dinner at a nearby exclusive restaurant. Partygoers would tour the grounds and homes of Bay Island, including the downstairs of Adam’s house and his yacht. If I hid up in my room and locked the door, I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.

  Except disappointing Adam. And he was somewhere in the house, getting ready and totally unaware of the inner war I was fighting. I was terrified and I didn’t want the pity looks, or worse, the “why is he with her?” questions. And every time I thought about it, it made my throat close up more.

  When he came to get me, I didn’t move.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, yanking off the wig. “I can’t do this.”

  He sat down on the bed and looked at me. He was absolutely stunning in dark jeans, a white button-down shirt and a black blazer. His beauty took my breath away. How could I stand next to that?

  I used to be ab
le to do it, confidently. But not anymore. People would think I was his mother—or grandmother.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated when he sat there quietly watching me.

  “I was going to say that you look amazing. It would be an honor to stand beside you.”

  I rubbed my hand across my now fuzzy scalp. “I’m sorry. I just don’t—I—”

  “And all your friends? Heath, Kat and Jenna…I even convinced Liam to come by saying you’d like to see him.”

  “I would like to see him. Maybe they can come up here and hang out with me?”

  Adam clenched his jaw and put his hands on his knees but didn’t appear upset. “You’re going to have to jump back into the land of the living sometime, you know.”

  I looked away. “I know. It will be easier to do that when I have hair and a little excess weight on my body.”

  He sighed and stood up. “Okay. It goes without saying that I would like you to be down there with me but I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do.”

  I looked down, my face flaming with shame. “I’m sorry.”

  He bent and kissed the top of my head. “Don’t be. But if you are feeling better later, please come down?”

  “Okay.”

  He smoothed a hand over my cheek, smiled and was gone. And it felt like my heart was following him out the door because it suddenly hurt. I knew I was disappointing him but I just wasn’t ready for this.

  As people started to arrive and progress through the homes, I had a prime 180-degree view of the garden from my windows up top and I’d even adjusted them so that I could see outside without them being able to see in. Smart windows indeed! I sat in my window seat and saw faces—more I didn’t recognize than that I did—of the people on the charity tour. Adam greeted every single one, shaking their hands, handing them off to the party planners, caterers or tour guides.

  In all, there were several hundred people in attendance. Jordan showed up with a gorgeous woman on each arm. One was a dark-haired, mocha-skinned beauty and the other a voluptuous redhead in a tight dress. Two? Really? Typical Jordan.