Page 61 of Outcast
I didn’t answer him because he was right, and he’d gloat about it. I just told him goodbye and headed for the stairs.
Halfway down them, I spotted Holden heading for the door. “It’s Emory? We should really talk about?—”
I rushed the last few steps to beat him there. “Nope. No business.”
I reached past Bailey to take Emory’s hand. “He’s not here to talk shop. Unless—you’re not, are you?”
“No. I know it’s too soon to be here. Way too soon, right? It’s just that…” He trailed off, gaze flicking to Holden and Bailey.
“Sorry for my nosy brothers. They don’t know when to make themselves scarce.”
Emory smiled, though there was a strained quality to it. He looked tired. “That’s okay. I don’t care what they think. I don’t want to care what anyone thinks.”
“Good.” I pulled him into a hard kiss. “Come up to my room.”
Bailey and Holden took the hint, retreating. I led Emory up the stairs.
When we got to my bedroom, I turned and pulled him closer. “Are you okay?”
He ducked his head. “So it was too soon to come back. I knew it. It’s like dating 101.” He froze. “Not that we’re dating. This is just—I don’t know the rules for this. I’ve never done these things with a guy before, and to be fair, I didn’t do a lot of them with women because I mostly had relationships and—” He covered his face in his hands. “God. Sorry for the word vomit.”
I tugged his hands down, but he was avoiding my gaze. I slipped two fingers under his chin and tilted his face up.
“There are no rules, Emory. We’re not playing games.”
He licked his lips. “Okay.”
I bent down to brush my lips over his. “I’m not complaining, but we didn’t plan to meet tonight, did we?”
Emory sighed, pressing his forehead to mine. “I needed a reminder.”
“A reminder?”
“Of how this feels.” His gaze met mine. “It’s so new, but…I guess I really need it. Need you.” He bit his lower lip.
“Then I guess you better have me,” I teased. “Take whatever you need, golden boy.”
With a fierceness that surprised me, he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me into a wild kiss.
My cock kicked.
I’d enjoyed every part of our first hookup—even when Emory had been more tentative. But the strength and aggression of a man really did it for me too.
Emory held me in an iron grip and kissed me thoroughly, his tongue sweeping in boldly. He bit down on my lower lip, tugging a groan from me.
We crashed into a wall—this damn room seemed all wall sometimes, being in the attic—and Emory plastered himself against me, grinding his hard cock on my thigh.
I pulled the hem of Emory’s shirt up, and he broke the kiss long enough to tug it over his head.
I hadn’t gotten a good look at his body last time. His torso was long and lean, his stomach taut. He was so slim I could see the shape of his collarbones and ripple of his ribs, and yet the sharp angles only made him sexier.
He reached for my T-shirt, yanking it up and off.
“Fuck, that ink. So sexy. I’ll just never get over it.”
I chuckled. “Maybe you should get some.”
His gaze shot to mine in surprise. “You think I could pull that off?”
