Page 8 of My Mom's Man
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “I’ll wake up soon enough.”
A door closes nearby. Cole’s attention darts past me and he smiles. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
I swivel around and am confused to see Emma walking over to us. She’s dressed in running gear—the new shoes I bought her, tight black leggings, and a Nike hoodie. Her chaotic dark tresses have been twisted into a messy bun.
“What are you doing?” I demand, voice sharper than I expect.
She winces at my tone. I note the dark circles around her eyes that no doubt matches mine. “Running. Is that a big deal or something?”
“Nah,” Cole says with a laugh. “Reid’s just grumpy today.”
It’s not that I don’t want her to go running with us, it’s just… I don’t know what it is. Last night was strange. There was a shift in our normal dynamic. It felt more intimate which was wrong.
“You guys going to stretch before we go?” Emma asks, grabbing her ankle and pulling it to her butt to stretch her hamstring. “My coach is a stickler about stretching.”
I’m not a fan of stretching, but Cole always makes me. He grins in triumph at me which earns him an eyeroll. While Cole leads us through his normal stretching routine, I can’t help but sneak peeks at Emma. She’s unusually pretty today.
Wait, what?
I mean, Amara is beautiful too, so it’s not a surprise. I just never really looked at Emma like that before. But, as she stretches, I can’t help but notice the lean curves of her muscular legs. They’d been hidden under pajama pants last night. This morning, they’re on full sculpted display.
Look away, creep…
I clear my throat, choosing to stare at my worn-out tennis shoes instead. Finally, Cole says we can end this torturous shit. He takes off in a jog toward our usual route. Since me and Emma partied a little too hard last night eating pizza and watching movies, we follow behind him, sluggish and slower.
I’m tempted to fill the silence with apologies about… I don’t know what. Since my brain is fuddled and confused, I bite my tongue.
It’s easy to get lost in the freedom and serenity of a quiet morning run. Brayden never cared to do this with me. Having Emma here is different, but I don’t exactly hate it. This is fine. Last night was just weird. It won’t happen again.
I make the mistake of glancing over at her.
Her plump pink lips are parted and she’s panting. The breathy sounds leaving her mouth send tickles of awareness straight to my dick. It thickens without warning.
What the fuck, man.
Are you getting hard over little Em?
A flash of anger pulses through me, killing thesemi hard-on I’m sporting in my running shorts. Not at Emma. This anger is specifically directed at me, for being weak, and Amara for putting us in this situation. I’m not some pervert, but what if I was? Amara wouldn’t be around to even notice or care. Emma could be taken advantage of.
Is that what will happen when I kick them out?
The furious need to protect Emma burns hot through me. I pump my legs harder and faster than ever before, blowing past her and Cole. The chilly fall wind lashes at my face and my lungs ache from exertion.
If I force Amara to leave, she’ll no doubt shack up with some random man. Hell, it’s what she did with me after a short period of dating. I can’t stomach the idea of Emma being left alone with anyone other than myself.
What if they touch her inappropriately?
What if this villainous man forces himself on her in the middle of the night?
She’ll throat punch him.
A flood of relief courses through me. Emma is tiny as fuck, but she’s full of sass and fire. She’d make that mysterious future guy regret the day he was born.
Still, she’s not Super Girl.
Emma could easily be overpowered.
Bile creeps up my throat, burning like acid. I can’t do that to her. She’s comfortable in my home. Safe and cared for. Sending her out is cruel and unnecessary.
