Page 116 of There's No Us Without You
His bottom lip pinched between his fingers, Emerson shakes his head.
Right.
Silence.
Great.
Let’s try the next best thing then. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into my chest. For a moment, he stiffens, body rigid, arms remaining at his sides.
Then, like letting the air out of a balloon, he deflates and collapses against me, wrapping his arms around my waist. Warm breath against my neck, I fight the urge not to fuck this moment up by getting hard.
It’s been years since I’ve held him like this. And although he needs me right now, it’s an unconscious reaction. I’m unable to control my dick, even if I wanted to.
Stiffening, Emerson pulls back. His hazel eyes are like fire on my face, igniting something deep inside me that only he can.
“Fuck it,” he says, before grabbing my face and crushing his lips to mine.
For a moment I stand there, stiff, with no clue what the fuck is happening until Emerson pushes his tongue into my mouth, colliding with mine.
I groan.
Goddamn.
Teeth clashing, I shove him back against the wall, leaving my hands pressed to his chest.
Grunting on the impact, he drives his tongue deeper into my mouth, nothing soft about it, and fists the collar of my shirt.
The kiss is aggressive, and such a fucking turn-on.
It’s also full of everything he’s feeling.
This can’t be real, though. Have I had a car accident and I’m now in that space between life and death?
While Emerson is kissing me, our hips buck in unison, his dick now pressed painfully against mine through our clothes.
This is . . . insane.
Yet, so fucking inappropriate considering the circumstances.
I shove back—not an easy feat—breathing hard but needing the distance. “Not like this,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
Emerson sucks in air, nostrils flaring. “Tell me you don’t want me,” he says, stepping into me again. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Will. Do you imagine me on my knees, my mouth wrapped around your dick?” Cupping my cock over my pants, he squeezes hard and presses his lips to my collarbone.
I hiss through my teeth. “Fuck.”
For a moment, I’m unable to stop him, allowing him to stroke me over my slacks, his mouth wet and hot on my skin.
I’m drowning in him—something I’ve never allowed. I’m usually the one in control, but right now, I’m at his mercy.
When he goes for my zipper, I snap back into the moment. “Emerson. Stop.” With shaking hands, I shove him back, sending him stumbling.
He rights himself, and this time, I get his narrowed eyes. “You’re fucking kidding, right? I’m throwing myself at you, showing you how I feel about you—which, by the way, is one of the most important moments of my life—and you’re telling me to stop?”
Fuck.
FUCK!
Sighing, I rub my eyes. “You’re upset—you aren’t thinking straight.”
