Текст книги "Craving Him"

Автор книги: Kendall Ryan

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

12

Emmy

I woke to Ben trailing soft sucking kisses against the back of my neck. I was still fitted against him, just how we’d curled up the night before, cradled in his arms. Except now the evidence of his arousal was pressing against me. It was hard to miss a nine-inch cock nestled against the seam of my ass. I pressed back against him, eliciting a low moan. “Baby, you can’t do that.” His tone was a warning, his voice deep and sleepy. Ben laid several more damp kisses along the side of my throat as I turned my head, my mouth seeking his. I squirmed against him, rocking my hips and dragging my backside over his cock. “Fuck,” he murmured. “Misbehaving early this morning, Miss Clarke.”

“I think you secretly like it,” I taunted, rolling toward his scent and his gravelly voice. He was so incredibly sexy that I couldn’t resist the temptation of his body primed and ready so close to mine.

We lay side by side and one of his large palms cupped my cheek while his other hand moved between us, feeling me as though testing how wet I was.

“Shit, baby. You’re soaked.”

Blood rushed to my cheeks. I dipped my head, but eyes leaving his, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my body’s overly obvious reactions to him.

“Hey. I love that. It’s a big fucking turn-on.” He pressed one long finger into me and I let out a needy whimper.

“Do you need to come?”

“Bennn . . .” I rocked my hips closer.

“Shh. I’ll make it better.” Ben lifted me from the bed, momentarily stopping his delicious torture to remove the T-shirt I wore.

His fingertips traced the curves of my breasts, while his other palm lightly cupped my other breast. His touches were so soft, so careful, I could tell he was holding back. He was trying not to rush me, take me hard like he did up against the shower wall last night. His hands trembled ever so slightly and I could feel how badly he wanted me. It was intoxicating. His thumbs brushed against my nipples and they tightened against his touch.

Pressing damp kisses to my throat, his tongue darted out to press against the spot in my neck where my pulse was thrumming wildly. He worked his way lower, licking and nibbling on my nipples. His fingers lightly curled around my ribs, holding me close.

His tongue lightly traced around my nipple, sending sharp darts of pleasure to my core. His teeth grazed my hardened nub and I felt the sensation deep inside my body as my sex clenched. My heartbeat pumped violently in my chest.

Situating me across his lap so I was straddling him, he pushed his boxer briefs down low on his hips and stroked himself twice. “You ready for me, babe?”

Locking my gaze on his, I drew a shuddering breath. I had him at my disposal day and night, and it still wasn’t enough. The more I got of him, the more I craved of him. The deeper I began to understand him, the more I wanted to know. The closer we got physically, the more of myself I wanted to give to him.

Positioning himself against me, Ben pushed inside me, his big cock stretching me and stealing my breath from this angle. Sensations burst inside me and my head dropped back, exposing my neck to his kisses.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he growled against my skin. I could do little more than hang on to his shoulders while Ben pumped into me. “Hold on tight.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him. Ben’s hands moved under my ass and pushed me up and down harder on him. The pleasure built inside me with each stroke, and after a few more blissful moments I came, clawing his back and digging my heels into the bed as I moved against him.

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my hips and he clung to me, burying himself fully within me as he came.

We collapsed together back to the bed, each of our hearts pounding and both of us breathing audibly in the otherwise silent room. I didn’t know how it was possible but every time with him seemed to get better and better.

After he’d cleaned us up and dressed me once again in my T-shirt, I tugged him back to the bed to lay with me again. I wasn’t quite ready to get up for the day yet. He pressed his face into the crook of my neck.

“I like this spot,” he mumbled against my skin.

He could stay there forever for all I cared.

Turning to face me, Ben tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear. His expression was watchful, almost concerned, like he had something on his mind.

Ben

She was gorgeous like this. Unaware of her own beauty, her skin glowing and pink from her orgasm. I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and she let out a soft, contented sigh. “I want to take you somewhere, be alone with you for a few days.”

“Okay.” Her eyes danced on mine.

“Great, because I’ve chartered a plane to fly us to a neighboring island. We’ll spend the rest of our trip at an exclusive resort on a private island. Just us.”

Her mouth blossomed into a wide grin, and I could read her expression as plain as day. No Fiona. No photographer. No ex-girlfriends to distract us. We’d be utterly alone. “What about work?” she asked. “Will there be an Internet connection so I can at least check on upcoming jobs for you?”

“No need to work. I’ve already let Fiona know I was taking you away. With the holidays coming up, this also tends to be my slow time of year anyway. It’ll just be another week. Ten days tops.” I grinned.

“I’d love to stay. I’ll just have to let Ellie know I won’t be home.”

I pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Good. Let’s have brunch; I’ll have the hotel staff pack our bags. Our flight leaves in an hour.”

“Wow. Honestly, I can pack my own bag.”

“You’re awfully bossy for an assistant. Come on. I’m hungry. And I’m craving those mango pancakes they have downstairs.”

She chuckled and flung the blankets from her legs. “Fine. Let’s feed you.”

That was my girl. The food pusher I knew and loved. She couldn’t resist the opportunity to take care of me or feed me, and I loved that about her.

13

Emmy

After breakfast we spotted Fiona on our way to the car. The bellhop following us with bags in tow caught her attention. “Headed out?” she asked, stopping in front of Ben.

“Yes, I emailed you,” he said. “I’m taking Emmy away for a private getaway before we head home.”

I braced myself, watching her reaction.

A fake smile tugged at her mouth. “Okay, love. Go enjoy yourself now before the baby comes. You deserve it. Things are about to get busy.” She laughed and hugged Ben, pressing her baby bump into his abs.

Ben said nothing to disagree; he just nodded and brought one hand around her back and gave it a careful pat.

I wanted him to claw her eyes out, not comfort her.

An acidic taste filled my mouth at the thought of him leaning over Fiona’s hospital bed to coo over her gorgeous little baby, inspecting it for signs that it looked like him.

He’s promised me he didn’t want her—that we’d still be together no matter what happened with the baby. But I wondered if that’d change once he saw her mothering his child. And if he had no interest in her romantically, could I handle him playing the doting dad to her baby. God, I sounded selfish. I was jealous of a baby. How pathetic was I?

I dragged my sorry ass behind Ben to the waiting car.

* * *

After the brief plane ride on what I learned was an island jumper, we were shuttled by a sedan to a private thatched hut, not a hotel. I spun around to face Ben.

“Are you serious?” I grinned.

“I only want the best for my baby.”

I leapt into his arms, tackle-hugging him.

This place was paradise. Secluded and romantic. I doubted I’d ever want to leave.

The bellhop left us and our suitcases alone in the hut with just the gentle sound of lapping waves to accompany us. There was a large bed in the center of the room dressed in white fluffy bedding, two bedside tables, and a sofa across the room. Very simple, yet beautiful and elegant. I wandered toward the door leading out from the far end of the space with Ben trailing at my heels.

The bathroom vanity and a small room for the toilet were inside, but the shower itself was outside. Gray slate stones stacked more than chest high provided some privacy from the beach beyond, and a waterfall-style showerhead hung from the center of the ceiling.

It was absolute heaven. With the gentle lull of turquoise waters lapping the shore and a steady ocean breeze to keep the hut comfortable, it was everything I imagined a South Pacific paradise would be.

During the trip, it was as though we were both trying extra hard to be the perfect couple, to not let Fiona’s warning haunt us or mark our time together. For ten days, we lounged in hammocks on the beach and sunned ourselves until we were a deep golden brown, despite our best efforts at slathering on sunblock. We swam, ate entirely too much, and sipped cocktails in the late-afternoon sun. There was no phone, no TV, no Internet. Just us. As much as I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t help but feel like a clock was ticking, marking down our time together. I wondered if Ben felt the same way. He was extra sweet and attentive.

My monthly cycle made an appearance, so I spent the entire week bloated and fighting off chocolate cravings. Ben was amazing, though, massaging my lower back, ordering dessert even when I insisted I didn’t need it, letting me sleep in, and generally being the world’s most responsive boyfriend.

Most mornings after waking late and eating a light breakfast in our room, we walked straight out of the front door and onto the sand to wade into the warm seawater for a morning swim. But this morning, Ben turned toward me, smoothing the hair back from my face and watching me as though mesmerized.

He looked at me like something big was on his mind, but for the time being he remained silent, just stroking my cheek, running his fingers through my hair and watching me.

“Did you sleep okay?” I asked, finally.

Ben

Emmy watched me curiously as I ran my fingers through her long, silky hair. “Did you sleep okay?” she asked finally.

“Fine.” I nodded. The truth was I hadn’t slept for shit last night. I laid awake thinking about the very real possibility that Fiona’s baby was mine. Could I really turn my back on her and the child? Growing up without a father figure, I’d vowed that I’d never be a deadbeat dad. And the more time I spent with Emmy, the more I began to worry about how close we were growing. Thoughts of Fiona and the baby weighed heavily on my mind. Somehow seeing her rounded belly this week made it all the more real. There was no denying she was getting bigger all the time. There really was a baby growing in there.

“Is something wrong?” Emmy asked, her forehead creasing as she watched me.

I didn’t answer for several long moments and Emmy pressed her palm to my cheek. “Everything’s fine,” I managed. “It’s probably time we got back to reality.”

“I suppose we should.” She rolled closer and stretched. “This has been perfect.” She rubbed her hands over my bare chest, absently, like her body dictated that we be touching anytime we could. “It’ll be almost Thanksgiving by the time we get home.”

“I suppose it will.” It was almost Thanksgiving, though you wouldn’t know it from the balmy eighty-degree days we’d grown used to in Fiji.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she asked.

“Ah . . . nothing, most likely. Last year my housekeeper, Magda, brought some me leftovers. The year before that I was in Brazil for a shoot.”

“So you won’t be with your mom in Australia?”

“Nah. Probably not. We haven’t discussed anything. And they don’t celebrate American Thanksgiving in Australia. Are you planning to go to Tennessee?”

“Yes. Would you . . . want to come home with me?” I could read the indecision in her eyes. I wondered if she worried it was too soon to bring me home, or if she worried that her parents wouldn’t like me.

“If you want me there, of course I will.”

Her eyes brightened. “You could meet my family, see where I come from.”

“I’d love that.” I lifted her hand to my mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Everything about my relationship with Emmy was uncharted territory for me, but I didn’t mind. I guess we’d find out if I was good with parents. It wasn’t her mom I was worried about—I was pretty sure I could win her over. It was her father who had me nervous. And it was the South. Didn’t they shoot first and ask questions later?

14

Ben

I’d always known Emmy had grown up differently from me, but this wasn’t what I had imagined. I pulled the rental car into the gravel driveway that Emmy pointed out and cut the ignition. Her parents lived in a rust-colored old trailer with a crooked front door and a bare patch of dirt where the grass had been trampled away over the years.

I glanced over at Emmy. She chewed nervously at her lip, watching for my reaction.

I grabbed her hand, lacing my fingers between hers. “Ready, babe?”

She gave a tight nod and climbed from the car.

Gravel crunching under my boots, I followed her lead to the front door. She hadn’t told me much about her parents, only that her mom and dad and younger brother would all be here for Thanksgiving. I hadn’t really had the typical experience of meeting my girlfriend’s parents before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. The door opened when we got closer and Emmy’s mom came barreling out to launch herself into Emmy’s arms. They were sobbing and hugging and talking in animated voices while I stood there uselessly holding Emmy’s suitcase and my duffle bag.

She hugged her dad next then leapt into her brother’s arms, calling him, “Bubba!” He shook his head and her mom leaned over to explain it’d been her nickname for him since he was born. She’d been two years old and couldn’t say Porter.

Her mom had long brown hair like Emmy’s, with a few threads of silver in the braid hanging down her back. As soon as she released Emmy and wiped stray tears from her cheeks, she turned to face me. I couldn’t imagine such an emotional homecoming with my own mother. The last time I went to visit her two years ago she couldn’t even be bothered to come and pick me up from the airport. She sent a driver, with the excuse that she had a manicure appointment to keep.

“Heaven above, Emerson Jean. He’s hotter than the month of July.”

“Mom,” Emmy scolded, turning pink as her mom looked me up and down. “This is my mom, Sue.”

“Hi, Mrs. Clarke.” Before I had time to decide between a handshake and a hug, she was launching herself toward me. Twining her arms around my waist, she gripped me in a hug as I patted her back under the watchful scowls of Emmy’s father and brother.

Clearing my throat, Sue finally released me and stepped back. I crossed the weathered front porch and extended my hand. “Mr. Clarke, it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for having me.”

Never in my life had I felt so scrutinized, even when strutting down the runway dressed in next to nothing. I felt the intensity of the glares served up by the men in Emmy’s life.

Emmy stepped in between us. “This is my dad, Tom, and my brother, Porter.” They continued glaring at me. “Dad,” she hissed, and her father slowly raised his hand to shake mine.

“Welcome to Tennessee.”

The relaxed smile that overtook Emmy’s mouth told me she’d been more worried than she’d let on about her father’s reaction to me. Her brother was still watching me with a frown etched into his face. Porter was about my height and spent more than his fair share of time in a weight room. Judging by his tense posture and expression, he was considering challenging me to a wrestling match out in the front yard.

A huge black dog came barreling out the front door and charged straight for me. His snout hit me squarely in the nuts. “Ompf.” I doubled over as the breath was forced from my lungs.

“Buck!” Emmy yanked him back by the collar, successfully dislodging the beast from between my legs.

I looked up to see Porter smiling for the first time. “Good boy, Buck.”

Emmy elbowed her brother in the ribs.

“What? He’s just being protective, Em.”

“It’s fine,” I bit out. My voice was several octaves too high and my balls were aching but I took the hit like a man. I straightened and felt my balls descend back to their proper place. Fuck, that hurt.

“Come inside, Ben,” Sue said. “I can get you something for your . . .” Her eyes darted down to my crotch.

Emmy let out a groan.

“I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

Sue placed her hand in the crook of my arm and led me inside. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

The inside of the trailer was cramped and dim and the floor groaned under my feet, but it seemed comfortable and homey. “It was very kind of you to invite me.” I let her guide me to the little front room that held a matching sofa and loveseat in baby-blue corduroy fabric. It didn’t escape my notice that I had to pass by the well-stocked gun cabinet on my to the sofa. I was sure Tom designed it that way.

I sat in the center of the smaller sofa, Emmy on one side and Buck hopping up to sit on the other. He sat there like a damn grown man, looking down at me. It was clear I was going to have to work to win over the Clarke men. Dog included.

Her mom handed us glasses of sweet tea and sat down across from me and Emmy. “So tell us about yourself, Ben. Or is it Benjamin?”

“Ben’s fine. And what would you like to know?”

Porter settled onto the sofa next to his mom and Tom sunk into a worn armchair across from the television.

“Well, Emmy tells us you’re a model,” her mom offered.

Tom rolled his eyes and stifled a groan. It wasn’t a profession he respected. At least not for the man dating his daughter.

“Yeah. I’ve been modeling since I was seventeen. I enjoy it. I get to travel all over the world and meet lots of interesting people. It’s actually how I met Emmy.”

Her mom smiled, seemingly pleased. After a few minutes of idle chatter, Sue said, “Emmy why don’t you put the bags in your bedroom? You’ll sleep in your old room and Ben can bunk with Porter, or sleep out here on the couch.”

“Couch should be fine, right champ?” Porter said.

“Yeah, sure thing.” I hadn’t realized I wouldn’t be sleeping with Emmy. She gave me a sympathetic look that said she knew all along. I’d wanted to book a hotel for us but the nearest one was fifteen miles away and Emmy had said her parents would be offended if we didn’t stay with them.

Seconds later, Emmy was pulled into the kitchen to help bake pies and I was left sitting there with a dog that looked ready to attack me and two men watching me like I was some sort of dangerous and unpredictable species. I glanced at the shotgun mounted on the wall in the dining room. Yeah, I was fucked.

Actually I wasn’t, considering I wouldn’t be sharing a bed with Emmy. Not that I would have fucked her under her father’s roof anyway, but a little messing around would have been nice. I couldn’t resist making Emmy come. Her cheeks flushed so pretty and those breathy little whimpers she made were so sexy.

Shit. I couldn’t be thinking about that right now. Not while Emmy’s dad looked ready to skin me alive.

Emmy emerged from the kitchen with a pink frilly apron tied around her middle and her hair twisted up in a bun. With hands covered in flour, she leaned down to press a kiss to my cheek. “You okay hanging out with the guys, hon?”

I chuckled hearing her southern accent was becoming more pronounced being near her chatty mom. “I’m fine. Go enjoy yourself.” She clearly loved being home. I hadn’t seen her smile so bright before.

“Well, should we do it?” Tom asked, rubbing his palms together.

I looked from him to Porter, trying to understand what he intended. It was tempting to watch the sway of Emmy’s ass as she sauntered back into the kitchen but I kept focused. The man already hated me.

“We’re going out hunting. Got to get us a turkey for tomorrow.”

Shit. This should be interesting.

Emmy

Ben looked stunned to hear that he’d be going hunting with my dad and brother but he rose from the couch, seemingly game for an adventure.

My mom stomped out from the kitchen, appraising Ben’s designer chinos and button-down shirt. “Your clothes are much too nice for romping around in the fields. Emmy, go get him a pair of your dad’s britches.”

Oh. My. God. My mom was officially insane. Did she really think Ben would be comfortable wearing a pair of my dad’s old Wranglers? I wanted to die. Seriously, I closed my eyes and silently prayed that the floor in the trailer would miraculously cave in and swallow me whole.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Clarke. Thank you, though,” Ben said, politely refusing her request.

I watched Ben leave with the men in Porter’s old pickup truck and a wave of nerves hit me. I wondered how he’d fare alone with my dad and brother. But my mom thrust a ten-pound bag of potatoes at me, and I knew peeling them with the old, dull knife from her ancient knife block would be the perfect distraction.

I knew my family life was much different than Ben’s. I could only hope he’d fare okay with my dad and Porter. And hunting no less. There were firearms involved.

“So does Ben want marriage, kids? He’s got a pretty nontraditional lifestyle, sweetie.” My mom was nothing if not direct.

“Uh . . . I’m not really sure. We haven’t talked about it.” Other than my drunken rant telling him we’d make attractive kids. That was just a damn fact of life, though. Any babies with his DNA would be stunning specimens. Superior in every way, I was convinced. Little green-eyed babies with dark hair and full, pouty mouths danced through my head while I methodically peeled the potatoes.

My mom abandoned chopping a pile of onions and turned to face me. “How could you have not talked about it? You’re dating pretty seriously. . . . You’re not one to just bring home a man, Emerson Jean.”

She was right, of course. I’d never brought home a man for a holiday like this before. And I did feel differently about Ben. I wanted him to be my future. I guess part of me was just scared about his possible baby with Fiona and their relationship, even if it was professional now. Mostly I worried that he couldn’t possibly want the simple life I’d envisioned for myself since I was a little girl. A home down the street from my parents, big family holidays, baking pies with my mom, and, one day, my little girl. The sour feeling in the pit of my stomach rolled with unease. “He didn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving. His mom lives all the way down in Australia. I didn’t want him eating Chinese takeout.”

Her look of concern told me I was probably crazy, reading way too much into our relationship.

An errant tear dropped from my eye.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s just those damn onions,” I lied, gazing at the pile of chopped onions on the counter. The weight of her concerns about Ben burned like acid in my stomach. How had I allowed myself to fall for someone so wrong for me? The only reasoning I could find was that it was never a choice.

Loving Ben Shaw wasn’t something I ever planned on doing. Lord knew my family and friends warned me from getting emotionally attached. But I had zero control in the matter.

I had two choices: to enjoy the ride for what it was worth and accept him and his limitations or move on without him.

It wasn’t a choice. I wouldn’t turn my back on him. My heart, my body, my entire being craved him like a drug.

Her expression softened. “I support you and whatever makes you happy. I just want to make sure you’re being careful with your heart this time.”

I tossed the potatoes into the pot with more force than necessary. “I’ve got it, Mom.”

Of course she was only trying to help, and she’d seen me at my worst after my breakup with Ben obliterated my heart like it’d been through a blender.

“Well, is he religious, does he have the same values as our family, Emerson?”

Religious? I didn’t think so. Not particularly. But he had values I respected. He was hardworking, willing to help out friends, dedicated, and faithful. That was all I needed. Of course now that my mom had mentioned it, I was dying with curiosity to know his stance on marriage and kids. Even getting him to say I love you seemed like a giant leap for him. I was just hoping no one grilled him over dinner on politics or religion. My damn family would scare him off before we even got started.

Somehow the awkward pauses and tense silences hanging around the men had evaporated by the time they returned from the annual turkey hunt. Porter dealt with the bird in the garage and my dad and Ben came inside, all smiles and loud stories. I bounded into the living room. How very homey . . . my man coming home with my daddy after hunting.

“Woman, I bring meat,” Ben said with a chuckle, mimicking a deep, cavemanlike voice.

My dad laughed and patted him loudly on the back. “He did well. He’s a great shot.”

I beamed up at him, fighting the urge to kiss him silly. He’d never looked sexier—returning from a hunt with my father; the smell of fresh air, sweat, and male bonding. I could envision him being part of my family and that thought sent a little thrill racing through my system. Coupled with my mom’s talk earlier about marriage and babies, my mind was on overload with visions of matrimonial bliss. I needed to stop. I was acting crazy. Lord, I could only imagine my mom’s reaction if she knew about Fiona.

“Nice job, honey.” I pressed a kiss to his throat and scurried off to the kitchen before I molested him in front of my dad. I couldn’t imagine that’d go over well.

After eating an amazing home-cooked dinner of barbecued ribs, beans, and corn bread, we drank glasses of sweet tea. My dad even broke out his special aged whiskey reserved for special occasions to pour himself, Porter, and Ben glasses.

My dad stood at the head of the table and raised his glass. “I’d just like to properly welcome Ben here to Tennessee. Say thank you for bringing my girl home safe and sound.”

The smile on Ben’s face and the twinkle in his eye was priceless. I wanted to bottle that contented, happy look and save it to enjoy later. Seeing him around my family tonight, I was repeatedly hit with a pang of sadness that he didn’t have this type of relationship with his mom, and to the best of my knowledge, didn’t know who his dad was. I was glad to see my family welcoming him.

After dinner I helped my mom wash the dishes while Ben helped my dad clean the guns. Porter hadn’t seemed to warm to Ben yet and took off for a local tavern for a beer by himself. Even though he was my younger brother, he acted like he was ten years older—always had. He was superprotective of me, so it didn’t surprise me he hadn’t taken to Ben just yet, although I hoped he would in time.

At bedtime my mom and I helped Ben cover the couch with sheets and left him extra blankets and pillows. I lingered beside the couch and Ben’s dark eyes landed on mine. My mom cleared her throat. “Say goodnight, but nothing funny, you two. It would make your dad really uncomfortable.”

“Of course, Mrs. Clarke. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Ben had such good manners in front of my parents. I loved seeing this side of him. Knowing there was a filthy-talking sex god lurking just under the surface of this well-mannered man was a big turn-on. Huge.

My mom disappeared down the darkened hallway and only the low light from the television was left to illuminate us. It was the first time we’d been alone all day. I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist, bury my face against his neck, and breathe in. But I knew once I felt his firm body and inhaled his delicious scent, I’d want more.

His hand slid under my hair to cradle the back of my neck then he tilted my head and pressed his lips to mine. “Thanks for bringing me home,” he whispered.

“Thank you for coming.” I leaned my head back into his palm.

“I’m gonna win your dad over. You know that, right?”

I nodded, unable to take my eyes from his. “Are you going to be able to sleep?”

He gave my neck a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be fine. You get some rest.”

I scurried down the darkened hallway to my bedroom before I changed my mind and tackled him onto the couch.

After brushing my teeth and changing into sweatpants and a tank top, I crawled under the covers of my familiar old bed. Pulling my grandma’s quilt up to my chin, I lay there wide awake, wondering if it’d ever be possible for Ben to fit into this life.

I tossed and turned on the lumpy, narrow mattress until well past midnight. My mom’s words rang in my head. Unanswered questions, topics Ben and I had never discussed. Not to mention he just looked out of place in this shabby trailer. Too commanding, too big, most assuredly too beautiful. It suddenly felt like a big fucking deal that I didn’t know his stance on marriage and kids. I’d fallen hopelessly in love with him without even knowing if we were compatible, if we were building toward something real.

My heart raced in my chest. God, I felt like an idiot that I didn’t have the slightest idea to these major life questions. These were nonnegotiable for me. My chest felt tight and achy. I couldn’t go through another breakup with Ben. My heart wouldn’t survive it. I felt like crying. I curled into a ball and hugged my pillow as silent tears streamed down my cheeks.

Damn it.

I wasn’t going to get any sleep at this rate. And my eyes were going to be all puffy for Thanksgiving tomorrow. I threw back the covers and climbed from bed. I’d get a glass of cool water, collect myself, and then get back in bed.

I crept down the hallway, navigating the worn pathway easily in the dark. I filled a glass with tap water and chugged it in the darkened kitchen before a noise from the living room caught my attention. Ben was stirring. Shit, maybe he’d never even fallen asleep.

“Emmy?” he whispered loudly. “Is that you?”

I rolled my eyes. He was going to wake everyone in the tiny trailer with his supposed whispering.

I put the glass in the sink and went to the living room. The soft glow of moonlight filtering through my mom’s lace curtains illuminated him on the couch, rubbing a hand through his messy hair. “Come here,” he whispered, softer this time. “I’m horny,” he said as he chuckled softly.

I knew I should head back to my bed but I couldn’t resist getting close to him. I sunk to the couch, curling into his side.