Page 75 of Breaking Emily's Rules
Suddenly, he unceremoniously flipped me over on my back, lying on top of me like the rock of Gibraltar. “Nice try. Tell me.”
I felt just a tad vulnerable in this position, and I pushed against him. He didn’t budge. “What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me.” He eased up off me, leaning on one elbow.
Nothing. It’s too humiliating.“Nika. She’s pregnant.”
“That was fast.”
“What bugs me the most is everyone else was right. And I was wrong.”
“About what?”
“Nika. Rachel and Molly were suspicious. They said she was calculating and probably planning on marrying someone just so she could stay in the country. I thought they’d watched one too many movies. I didn’t think that kind of thing happened in real life. Nika needed a job, so I thought she could work for Greg.”
“So you got her the job, and then she slept with your fiancé.”
“Ex-fiancé. She probably did me a favor. But I can still be mad about it.”
“Right.” He studied me for a long minute. “Except you don’t act mad. Having dinner with them. It sounds like you’re all friends again.”
“She’s pregnant. I’m trying to do the right thing. Iammad, though. Can’t you tell?
He didn’t look like he believed me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why don’t you show me how angry you are?”
“How?”
“I know exactly what you need.”
He got out of bed, naked, completely confident about his body. He grabbed a pair of pants and pulled them on.
“Where are you going?”
“Get dressed and come with me.”
Get dressed?I’d been ready for round four and if last time was any indication, I’d do even better this time. Because a few minutes ago, Sergeant Stone Mcallister had been, by all indications, for the first time since I’d met him, at my mercy. I saw it in his eyes when I touched him the right way and heard it in his voice when he groaned. For once in my life, reading had helped me with a man.Thank you,Cosmopolitan.
“I don’t think what I need involves getting dressed.” I let my eyes drift the length of him, even as he was pulling on his shirt.
He grinned, showing one of the dimples. “Just trust me.”
“Um, most of my clothes are in the kitchen.”
“Right.” He was back within a few seconds with my push-up bra and thong since, thank you Molly and Rachel, I’d had the presence of mind to wear sexy underwear to deliver dinner. Just because, according to Molly and Rachel, a woman should always be prepared.
“What about the rest of my clothes?” I’d worn jeans and a tank top, too. I clipped my bra on and glanced at him to find him watching.
“One thing at a time. I think I’m going to enjoy watching you put those on as much as I enjoyed taking them off.”
Once I was dressed, he took my hand and guided me through the house, through a doorway in the kitchen to the attached garage. The place seemed like an automobile mausoleum of sorts, filled with old road signs and an old Ford taking up most of the room. His hand slid over the hood of the car as he passed it. “Nineteen seventy-two. The days when the cars were the size of boats.”
“Why do you think I need a car right now? Do you know me at all?”
He came so close I thought he might kiss me, but instead, he put two big hands solidly around my waist and turned me to a far corner of the garage.
“A punching bag?”
“I put this in here a few months ago, after I moved in to help my dad.” He swung a fist into the bag and it swayed toward him. “The minute I heard about the misdiagnosis, and all that wasted time—”
