Page 30 of Healing Hearts
“Or,” Emily says, drawing out the word. “You could ‘rent’ from me for a few months while you get your feet under you. I have a spare room. No one would question it, since you’ve just made a big purchase, and it would cover our asses in terms of how we spend our time together.”
“You want me to move in with you?”
“Temporarily. If a great apartment comes up or you just decide you want your own space, we can do that. But I think it might make sense at first.”
I take a deep breath and consider her offer. Part of me wonders whether the storm, staying under the same roof for days, is what got ushere, and it makes me a little nervous to consider where else the close proximity might lead us. But I can’t deny that we got along well during the storm. She’s easy to be around.
“I’ll give my notice,” I say. “We can try it, see how it goes.”
“Amir will be ecstatic,” Emily says, a true smile appearing for the first time since I arrived with my proposal. “Trent twenty-four-seven is his dream.”
“Buy the shop, track your cycle, move in here,” I say. “Nothing monumental there.”
“Just a totally regular Monday afternoon.”
“Jesus, Em, can you believe we’re doing this?”
“No,” she says with a little laugh. “I think we’re so far out of our depth that we’re probably already drowning and don’t realize it.”
“No matter what, we’ve got each other, right? That’s not going to change.”
“Ipromise,” she says with a small smile, “that’s not going to change.”
When I stand up, Emily follows me to the door. She tries to hand me back my test results, but I shake my head. “You keep them. I did it for you.”
After I’ve got my coat and boots back on, we examine each other for a beat.
“I don’t think this is really the kind of deal we seal with a handshake,” I say, searching her expression.
“No?”
“No,” I say, and I slide my hand into her hair, gentle but firm, and draw her into a kiss, my heart hammering against my chest. The minute her soft, gloss-stained lips meet mine, I know I’m a fucking goner.
Just like at the club, it’s as though one touch ignites a wildfire. She angles her head, deepening the kiss, and her tongue meets mine. It’s impossible, but it feels like we’ve done this more than once before.
She presses against me, pushing me back against the door, and normally I’d laugh at how feral she seems, but fuck if I don’t feel the same way, as though I could already rip her clothes off, take her here on the kitchen table, sink so deep inside no one else would ever make her feel full again.
I’ve never had a pregnancy kink—in fact the idea used to terrify me—but something new has been unlocked. The idea of spilling myself inside her, of knowing how much she wants it, wants me, is heady, intoxicating.
“I should go now,” I murmur against her lips, and then, as I brush her hair to the side, I trail a line of kisses down her throat, “or I’m not going at all.”
“You should go,” she says, but her voice is breathy, and I’m not sure she means it. “We should keep this professional.”
“Should we?” I ask. “What does that even mean when all I can think about is fucking you on your kitchen table?”
“I haven’t slept with anyone since Omar,” she says.
“What?” I say, drawing back as though she’s doused me in cold water. “Really?”
“Oh god,” she says, closing her eyes. “I shouldn’t have told you that. Now, you’re going to make a big deal out of it. I had lots of sex before Omar, okay? It’s not like I’m some kind of born-again virgin. You don’t need to treat me with kid gloves. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have even said anything.”
“This feels like a big deal,” I say, stepping to the side and biting the inside of my cheek.
“It’s not,” she says with a huff.
“No one?”
“Ugh. Okay, look, this is probably going to give you a big head or whatever, but I haven’twantedto sleep with anyone since Omar died. Like, I thought maybe all those feelings were justgone. But I’m not, apparently, dead below the waist.”
