Runaway Bride’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #1)

16. Emmett

16

emmett

I meant to leave.

Because I don’t stay. I don’t wake up with a person. I sure as hell don’t cuddle.

But I couldn’t make myself go.

As I watched Stella sleep, I kept telling myself just a few more minutes. I had convinced myself that I was just making sure that she was okay. Tonight might have been more of a roller coaster of emotions than the night we met.

Then I laid down. Then I slowly start running my fingers lazily along her arm. Then she rolled into me. Her head found my shoulder, and I was a goner.

I don’t remember the last time, if ever, I woke up with someone in my arms. The closest I’ve come is when Winnie has found her way onto my bed. And that usually just means she wants something.

Here’s the problem: It’s now the morning. The sun is shining, and a new day is here. And I still don’t want to leave. Hell, if I had my way, we’d stay in this bed all day and continue what we started last night. There are many—and I mean many—things I still want to do with Stella Banks, but I have this gnawing feeling that if I leave they’re never going to happen. That somehow the bubble will burst. Maybe she’ll realize last night was just a one-time thing fueled by emotion. Or I’ll come to my senses and remember she’s too young and her brother might kill me.

Let’s be real. I’m not coming to my senses. The longer I lay here, the more my logical thoughts go out the window. Stella Banks is now in my blood. And I don’t know if she’s ever going to leave.

I take in a deep breath when I hear the ping of my cell phone somewhere in the room. The sound is coming in rapid fire so I get up, careful not to wake Stella as I slip my boxer briefs on and find my phone in the pocket of my jeans.

Simon: You alive?

Simon: Or did you get eaten by an alligator?

Simon: Or is it a crocodile? I never remember which one lives in Florida.

Simon: But for real, where are you? You haven’t texted. You haven’t called. For all I know you went to Florida and joined the circus.

All I can do is shake my head at the idiotic texts from my best friend.

Emmett: I don’t even know where to begin with all that.

Simon: I’m just glad you’re alive. Wait. Maybe this isn’t you. Maybe it’s your kidnapper and they’re pretending to be you. How can I be sure this is Emmett?

Emmett: It’s me, jackass.

After all these years, I still can’t help but laugh at the utter ridiculousness of Simon Banks. Yes, he’s a grown man-child. Yes, his overall demeanor has been described as a golden retriever on crack. Yes, he doesn’t think before he acts or speaks, nine times out of ten. But I wouldn’t trade him or his friendship for anything in the world.

And to think it all came to be from the luck of the draw. We were randomly paired to live together our freshman year at Tennessee. We both majored in business and had close enough areas of interest—he wanted to get in on the real estate market while I one day wanted to open my own construction firm, which is why I minored in engineering. We were complete opposites. He was from old money and was the fourth member of his family to go to UT. I was from the hills of Chattanooga and was only at college because of scholarships.

Yet, more than fifteen years later, here we are.

Simon: Oh good. I’m glad you aren’t kidnapped.

Emmett: Glad to know I’d be missed.

Simon: I wouldn’t go that far.

Emmett: Asshole.

Simon: How’s Florida?

Emmett: Fine.

Simon: That’s it? Fine? You’ve been in Destin for five days. All I get is fine?

I look back at Stella and I’m thanking the Lord above that this conversation is over text and not FaceTime. Because I don’t know if I’d be able to hide my smile right now. Which would also raise alarm bells because I rarely smile, which he’d definitely call me out on.

Emmett: Yes. That’s all you get.

Simon: Oh my God! Did you meet someone? Vacation fling? Emmett Collins, you dog you. I’m so proud.

Emmett: I’m not discussing this with you.

Simon: Yet. You’re not discussing it with me yet. I’ll accept that and get the full rundown when you get home.

Emmett: I won’t.

Simon: Whatever. You will. Change of subject. Have you seen Stella? How’s she holding up?

I sit a little straighter on the bed. Coincidentally, I feel the bed move as Stella rolls over.

Does he know? Is that why he’s asking?

No. He can’t know. It’s coincidence. I’m being paranoid. Which is another reason why I need to come to my senses and make last night a one-time thing.

I won’t. But I should.

Emmett: I have. Could’ve told me she didn’t get married. Would’ve been helpful information.

Simon: I told you.

Emmett: I assure that you did no such thing.

Simon: Oh. Shit. My bad.

Oh. Shit. My bad. That’s his answer? Can I use that as my response if Simon ever finds out that I slept with his sister?

Emmett: She’s fine. We’ve actually gone to dinner and hung out a few times. She even got me to the beach.

Simon: No shit! You? On the beach? I thought you said the beach was a sandbox cesspool?

Emmett: Eh. It’s not so bad.

With Stella. It’s not so bad with Stella.

Which is giving me an idea…

Simon: Well I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.

Emmett: I am. And actually, do you mind if I take a few more days? You were right, this was what I needed.

You know I’m pulling out all the stops when I tell Simon he’s right.

Simon: I’m right? Did you just say I’m right? I’m going to print this text out and frame it. Put it on my desk.

Simon: And hell yes you can stay a few more days. You’ve earned it.

For some reason, that compliment sends a pang of guilt straight to my gut. Simon suggested I get away because I hadn’t taken a vacation since I started working for him. It was actually years, but he didn’t need to know that. He wanted me to clear my head, decompress, and blow off some steam. In none of those instructions was “blow off steam with my baby sister.”

Emmett: Thanks. I’m going to get going. I’ll call you when I’m back in town.

Simon: Sounds good. Give Stella my love.

Emmett: Will do .

I drop my head and lean my elbows on my knees, regret washing through me.

How could I do this? I slept with my best friend’s sister. There has to be some sort of bro-code rule that I broke. I made her scream my name and fucked her until she passed out. I remember the taste of her on my tongue and can still feel how she tugged at my hair.

I look over my shoulder as she starts to wake up, her blonde hair a mess, naked underneath the white sheets.

Maybe the guilt isn’t that we did it, it’s the guilt that I want to do it again. It’s that I can come up with a dozen reasons why what we’re doing isn’t so bad. Or maybe it’s that I know in my heart of hearts I’m never, ever going to tell Simon about this. Or that I’m selfish because I want all of her while we’re here, but I know this is temporary.

God, I’m fucked in so many ways. Because I know this is wrong for an abundance of reasons. Yet, I still don’t care.

I want her. For as long as I can have her.

“You stayed…”

Her words come out like a purr as she opens her eyes, squinting a bit as she adjusts to the light coming past the curtains.

“I did.” I crawl across the bed and drop down next to her. “Sleep well?”

She nods and lets out the most adorable yawn.

Since when are yawns adorable? Get it together, Collins.

“I did. Who knew a day and night full of smashing, screaming, crying, and fucking would tire you out?”

I can’t help but laugh at her sarcasm. “You’re pretty funny, you know that?”

She shrugs, her eyes averting down.

Nope. Not happening. Not anymore.

I take my free hand and tip up her chin. “No hiding. Say what you want to get off your chest. ”

“I hate that I keep talking about him,” she says. “I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t want him anywhere near my thoughts. Yet, there are things that come up every day that makes me realize how much I let slide. Or how much I let him walk all over me. And put me down, even if it wasn’t with words. And I hate it.”

“I know you don’t want to think about him,” I say. “But think of it this way. Every time you realize anything about that relationship, just think of it as one more thing you’re reclaiming. One more piece of you that you’re taking back.”

“Wow. I never thought of it like that.”

“Well let me help.” I inch a bit closer to her, taking my fingers and tracing down the side of her face. “I think you’re funny as hell. Witty. Impeccable timing. A little dry and dark, but that’s my kind of funny.”

I thought I felt good this morning. Nope. That’s nothing compared to how I’m feeling now as Stella’s smile grows with every word I say.

“I’m going to take it he didn’t think you’re funny,” I continue. “Which to that I say, fuck him. You’re Stella Banks—let that sarcastic wit fly. Claim it.”

She nods. “He told me it wasn’t ladylike. And that the other wives I’d be around don’t crack jokes.”

I shake my head and roll on top of her, my erection starting to grow as our bodies make contact. “Then I think you were hanging out with the wrong kind of people.”

“I agree.”

I lean down to kiss her, and I can’t help but notice the familiar feeling that washes over me. Like this is something we’ve been doing every morning for years.

What is this woman doing to me…

I need to rein this in, but I don’t want to stop it. Far from that. But on the other hand, feelings like this seem like a dangerous thing.

Boundaries. That’s what we need. Rules. Regulations. If I know what the rules of the game are, then I know what I can and can’t feel.

Yes. Brilliant idea, Emmett. Ten out of ten. Actually five bonus points for coming up with that before coffee.

I slowly pull away, which leaves Stella a bit confused, considering my dick is hard as a rock right now and begging to be set free.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” I try to say with some sort of authority so she doesn’t get worried. “It’s just…before we…”

Why am I having trouble spitting out these words? I’ve had a version of this conversation plenty of times with other women, and I’ve had no problem laying out the expectations. Yet with Stella, I don’t know what exactly to say. “I think we should put some ground rules on the table if we want to…”

“Have sex again?”

I laugh at her bluntness. “See? It’s all about the timing to land the joke.”

She sits up and brings the sheets with her, covering her chest. I can still see her peaked nipples through the white cotton, which does not help my focus for this conversation.

“You’re right,” she says. “Last night was a bit spontaneous. And a bit emotionally charged. But I meant what I said. I’m not looking for anything serious. I’m not in a place to handle anything like that.”

I feel my shoulders relax. “And I meant what I said—I’m not a long-term relationship kind of guy.”

“Well, then, it looks like we’re perfect for each other,” she says with a devilish smile.

She’s right. In the past, I’ve always wondered if women were pacifying me when they said they were okay with no commitment. With Stella I have no worries that’s the case.

“So, we just continue what we’re doing,” I say. “And then when we leave Florida, we’re back to normal? You go your way, I go mine. ”

“And when we see each other at functions involving my brother, we’ll share a secret smile, knowing we’ve seen each other naked.”

“Emphasis on secret,” I say. “You’re okay with your brother not knowing? Because this is something I’d rather not tell him.”

“Agree. Simon knows too much about me anyway. The last thing I need him knowing is that you gave me my first real orgasm in four years.”

I think my eyes just fell out of my head. Four years?

“Oh ,Tiger.” I pounce back on her as her giggles fill the room. My dick has come roaring back to life with that information. “You really shouldn’t have told me that.”

Her fingers immediately start playing with my hair, her nails scratching my neck with just enough pain to make it perfect. “And why is that?”

I lean down, pressing kisses along her cheek until I get to her ear. “Now that I know you’ve been neglected, I feel that it’s my job to catch you up.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“Easy.” I nibble on her ear lobe as my hand reaches down and cups her already wet pussy. “Until we leave Florida, this pussy is mine. Do you understand?”

Her nails are now scratching down my back, pulling me into her.

“Yours.”

And that’s all I need hear before I get my wish—we don’t leave this room for the rest of the day.