Page 2 of Anything for You
“You okay, Emma?”
The voice is deep and rumbly, and goosebumps rise on my arms. I take a fortifying breath and I’m glad I did because when I turn, the close up of Jeremy—disheveled dark hair, bow tie untied and hanging around his neck, and top button open—is the hottest thing I have ever seen.
“No cars.” I shrug and hold up my phone. “Probably should have driven here, but Julie insisted we take a car.”
He gives me a knowing grin, gold-rimmed brown eyes sparkling under the lanterns lining the sidewalk. “Usually better to agree when Julie’s in that kind of mood.”
“True story, but it doesn’t seem to be doing me any good now,” I mutter.
“Where are the other girls?”
“Hallie and Julie are sleeping at their parents’ houses tonight, and Molly went home with some Pitt baseball player.”
He chuckles at that. “Well, I’m heading out and I have my car here. I’ll take you home.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.” I’ve spent a lot of time around Jeremy in a group, but rarely ever one on one, and it’s possible being in the confines of his car with him might actually kill me. I mean, it probably won’t kill me, but I will most likely say something stupid that clues him into my crush on him and then I’ll die of embarrassment.
“Emma, I’m not leaving you outside the hotel waiting for a car by yourself this late at night, so either I’ll wait with you for who even knows how long, or you can come with me, and I’ll have you home in fifteen minutes.”
I sigh. I guess this is happening.
“Fine. Thanks, Jeremy.”
“Anytime.” He puts his hand on the small of my back, guiding me down the block to where his Jeep is parked. Warmth spirals out from where he touches me, and butterflies swarm my stomach.
This is going to be one hell of a ride.
Jeremy
I want to trace my fingers over every freckle on her body.
The thought is sudden and uncomfortable, considering theherin question is sitting a foot away from me in the passenger seat, filling the interior of my car with the scent of lilacs. Andalso, she is the best friend of my best friend Ben’s twin sister. And seven years younger than I am. And that six years removed from the injury that ended my hockey career much too soon, I’m still a miserable asshole and no good for anyone.
She should be off limits to me.
But fuck, Emma Langley, with her flaming hair and quiet voice and eyes that seem far older than her twenty-two years, has intrigued me since I first met her two years ago.
I glance over at her, sitting in the passenger seat with one leg curled underneath her body, elbow resting against the door and chin propped on her hand as she stares out the window. She has barely said a word since we got in the car, and the silence is starting to make me itchy. I’ve never been very good with silence. In silence, my thoughts are far too loud.
“Did you have fun tonight?”
“I did.” Her voice is quiet as she turns her head. Her eyes immediately fall to where my sleeves are rolled up to my elbows and her gaze traces my forearms, up to my untied tie and unbuttoned collar, before finally meeting my gaze. There is a flare of interest in hers, and I feel a dark rush of satisfaction that should be unwelcome but isn’t. My fingers practically twitch on the steering wheel—the need to slide my hand down her thigh and dip under her dress is almost overwhelming. I hate myself a little for the thought, but not enough to stop myself from wondering whether she would be wet for me if I pushed a finger inside her.
“That’s me up there.”
I’m saved from the path of my thoughts by Emma pointing out her house.
“I know, Emma. I’ve been here before.”
“Oh, right,” she says, as I park in front of her house. I push open my door and round the car to open hers. But when I offer her my hand to help her out, she hesitates.
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s late and dark and your friends aren’t home. I’m walking you to your door.”
She looks at me for a beat before taking my hand. Hers is small and soft and fits perfectly in mine. Warmth floods me as our palms slide together, and I try my darndest to shake the feeling away. I’m not a guy who feels much warmth.
When we get to the front door, Emma reaches into her purse for her keys but doesn’t immediately unlock it. Instead, she leans back against it, her green eyes searching mine, giving me the uncomfortable feeling that she sees far more than I show to the world.
