Page 50 of Trustfall

“So, I take it construction isn’t your dream job, then?”

I let out a low laugh. “No, definitely not. I mean, I do like working with my hands—” I see a hint of a blush color her cheeks at that.This fucking woman. “But I prefer working on my bike over painting and tiling,” I continue. “I’ve been customizing it since I bought it used a few years ago. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

“You mean when you’re not injuring yourself with tools that just randomly slip?” she teases.

“When I’m not being distracted by pornographic sideshows,” I throw back at her.

“Touché.” She barks out a genuine laugh, and I’ve never heard anything more beautiful. Jesus, I need to get a grip.

“Anyway, it’s stupid, but I’ve always dreamed of opening my own custom shop.”

“That would be amazing,” she says, her eyes brimming with excitement. “Why don’t you do it?”

I roll my eyes internally because that’s spoken like someone who has never struggled with money. She means well, but she doesn’t quite understand. I don’t want to make her feel bad, so I just answer honestly.

“I don’t have the cash for start-up costs,” I say. “Plus, now I don’t have the time between managing the construction company and bartending at night.”

She doesn’t say anything but nods in understanding. Maybe she does get it. I know she isn’t wealthy, and she and Nate lived modestly with their grandparents, but their father is fucking loaded.

“What about you?” I ask. “Are you happy?”

“Phewww,” she breathes out dramatically. “That is a tough question.”

“I mean with your job,” I clarify, but I hate that her words imply she’s not happy in general.

“Oh,” she says, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, I love it. I mean, there’s a part of me that wants to take on more challenges, but in general, I’m very happy with it. I get to help people feel better every day. What could be better than that?”

I can’t help the smile that scrawls across my face. She lives to help others. She wants more challenges. She wants to push herself.

“What’s more challenging than being an emergency room nurse?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“I’ve wanted to get my trauma certification for a while now, so I can assist in surgeries and even go out into the field. Search and rescue—that kind of thing. It would definitely be harder than what I’m doing now, but also rewarding.”

“Shit, Em. That’s badass.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not there yet. I keep putting off doing the training for one reason or another. I think I’m just scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. Not being good enough? Failing? See, not very badass.”

I chuckle. “Who isn’t afraid of failing? And for what it's worth, if I were lost in the woods, bleeding out, with a boulder crushing my leg, and you came running towards me in rescue gear, I wouldn’t care if you failed your training the first time or if you didn’t get a perfect score on the written test. I would just be relieved you were there with me.”

Emory’s eyes flick up to mine, and her breath hitches. She holds my gaze, a ghost of a smile hanging at the edge of her mouth. We stay like that, staring, breathing, for several moments before she finally makes the first move. She leans in and gently brushes her lips against mine. The kiss is featherlight, and neither of us makes a move to deepen it. We sit like that for several seconds before she pulls back, and I slowly unzip my jacket. She took hers off a while ago, having gotten too hot from the hike. I shimmy the rest of the way out of mine, keeping my gaze locked on her. It’s nearing the early evening now, and a cool breeze is running through the trees in the glade, but I don’t care. I’m all for taking clothes off, regardless of the temperature.

Then she’s back on my mouth, and this time she opens, letting my tongue find hers. She runs her hand up my shirt, sliding her fingers up and down my abs before going back down to the hem of my shirt and lifting it up. I take over, grabbing the back and pulling it over my head. Then I tug her shirt off and toss it on the blanket. I look around to make sure we’re still alone before I unhook her bra, and her tits spill out. In one swift move, I grab her legs and tug her forward until she falls on her back.

“God, I want to be inside you, Em,” I rasp as my fingertips dance at the edge of her waistband.

She looks up at me with lust-filled eyes. “I want that too. I want you to fuck me, Luke.”

18

EMORY

Luke wastesno time peeling my leggings and panties off. He eyes me, licking his lips as if he’s been living on a deserted island and I’m his first meal in months. He crashes his lips to mine, grinding his still-clothed cock against my bare pussy. I’m so desperate that I can’t help but match his movements, rubbing up against him, chasing the friction.

“Shit, you’re so needy, Em. Keep rubbing that sweet little pussy all over my jeans. I want you to get them all messy.”

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