Page 73 of The Wrong Side of the Law

Chapter Twenty-Three

Gabriel

My pillow smells like lavender again. That’s odd. Did I take another nap at my desk? I gotta stop doing this.

No. There’s the train whistle, and I can’t hear that from the office. My barely conscious brain recognizes that means it’s four in the morning and I must be at home. Go back to sleep. You can afford a little extra rest today. Don’t even open your eyes. And quit obsessing over that lavender smell, you’re just going to get yourself in trouble if you keep thinking about her.

Something is tickling my nose. What is that? I’d brush it away, but for some reason I can’t move my left arm.

Try the right hand, then, dummy, then go the hell back to sleep!

No, that’s not going to work, either. She’s hugging my arm, keeping my hand cupped around a bare breast.

Huh. Guess I have to just deal with this tickle, then.

Wait, what?

She? A bare breast?

I come fully awake in the space of a panicked heartbeat, eyes wide open. It’s dark outside, but the blue glow of the bedside digital clock illuminates the swell of her hips; the long, sweeping curve of her legs and mine.

Holy shit. This isreal. Imagination is no longer necessary, only memory, andplentyof that from last night floods in as the momentary confusion and panic recede.

The tickle in my nose is her hair, and suddenly it doesn’t bother me anymore. I nuzzle into the soft, wavy mass of it, breathing deeply to absorb as much of the lavender as possible.

“You’re awake,” Emily says, quietly.

One of her fingers traces a slow circle on the back of my hand. I’m suddenly even more aware of the breast on the other side of that hand, not to mention the full-length contact between the big spoon and the little one.

“The train,” I say, trying not to move at all.

“It wakes me up sometimes at home, too,” she says.

“Oh.” I’m not sure what else to say. I haven’t been in this position for quite a while.

I can feel Emily’s heart beating under my hand, and she shows no sign of releasing it or wanting to get away. I want to know what she’s thinking and feeling, but how the hell do I even start that conversation?

“Are you okay?” I ask tentatively.

“I’m fine,” she purrs. “Betterthan fine.”

Emily sighs deeply, nestling closer to me for a moment before rolling over to face me.

“What about you?” she asks, her voice soft and her eyes—unreadable in this light—fixed on my own. “Are you having second thoughts now? Do you think this was… a mistake?”

“This was a bad idea. I mean, there’s no question about that,” I chuckle, pulling her closer with a hand in the small of her back. “But a mistake? No. Not a mistake.”

“No regrets, then?”

“None,” I answer, kissing her forehead. “None at all.”

“Good,” Emily says, lazily wrapping her legs around one of mine and pillowing her head on my shoulder. “Me neither.”

“What a way to wake up, though,” I say. “It’s the first time since…” I trail off, realizing that maybe I shouldn’t bring my ex-wife into the conversation. “It’s been a while,” I finish, knowing how lame it sounds.

“The first time since Dorothy, you mean.” Emily looks up at me again and hugs me with one arm around my chest. “And byfirst time… you mean, what? First time being with someone?”

“No, not that. First time waking up with someone,” I admit, sighing. God, this got awkward awfully fast. What the hell. In for a penny,et cetera. “I’ve gone out with a few other women, but there was never any kind of real connection. One of us or the other would always leave long before morning. Usually me.”

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