She shifts from foot to foot while glancing up at me, her face looking so regretful, it's almost comical.
Fucking Emma.
Not saying a word, I stand and close the distance between us. Before she can react, I pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her. For a second, she stands stiff as a rod until she slowly melts into my embrace and wraps her arms around me, her head gently pressing against my chest.
"No need to apologize, babe. This house is yours too. Do what you want in it. You don't have to ask me permission to have a friend over and don't feel like you have to include me in on anything. You do your thing, and if our paths cross, great." I pull away for a second and lift her chin, those brilliant eyes staring up at me. I can't help it, I add, "And twisting your nipple wouldn't be punishment, it would be sweet gratification. Quote me on that."
Surprised, maybe a little shocked, her mouth forms an O as I pull away and head back to my bed where I pat the other side for her to sit on. "Come on, have a seat."
"But," her voice is shaky as she continues, "what if I want our paths to cross? I want to spend time with you, too, Tucker. I've missed you."
My lips twitch to the side, and I start to feel brighter, or something. Something I haven't felt for a long time. "I missed you too, Emma, but I don't want you to feel obligated to include me. I'm used to doing things on my own. Don't let me get in the way."
"You're not, I promise. I'd like to include you, unless you don't want to hang out." She puts her hand to her head in distress. "Oh God, I didn't even think about the fact that maybe you don't want to hang out with me, that I'm actually encroaching on your space. I'm a dumbass."
"Emma, get your ass over here, now." My voice is stern, commanding, and without skipping a beat, she does as she's told and sits next to me on the bed. I force her to look me in the eyes. "I'm not going to repeat myself when I say, I want you here. I'm glad you're here, and I'm looking forward to spending more time with an old friend I lost touch with. Got it?"
She nods, a smile playing on her lips.
"Good. Now," I shift on the bed and turn the TV down, "are you ready for our sex talk for the week. Might as well check off another rule for the week."
"Sex talk, now?"
"Yeah, now." I stand from the bed and go to the little attic closet right next to the stair landing and open the door. I reach for the box that hasn't been touched in quite a long time and grab the first magazine from the top. Before I turn around, I swipe my hand over the top to give it a quick dusting and then walk back to my bed where I sit next to Emma and hand her the magazine.
"Playboy?" I rest my head against the wall and take in her innocent shock. It's fucking cute.
"It's time you looked at one, don't you think?"
"How does this coincide with talking about sex?"
I chuckle. "Babe, there are sex tips and shit in there. It really isn't just about the bare breasts. Go on, open the old girl up. Let's see some tits."
"I can't believe you're making me look at a nudey magazine." She starts flipping through the pages as she talks. "Guys are so weird that they subscribe to . . . oh wow, she has some nice areolas." She brings the magazine closer to her face for a more detailed glance, which causes me to laugh out loud, the kind of laugh I haven't laughed in a very long time. "What's so funny? Look at her areolas, they seem so perfect for her breasts." She lifts the magazine for me to see.
Still chuckling, I nod. "Very nice tits."
"Then why are you laughing?"
"Because. Most people who look at a Playboy don't immediately compliment the areolas on a woman."
"I don't see why not. This woman sitting in a soda shop, wearing nothing but a cut-off apron, deserves the praise. It's a very bold outfit for a public place."
"Fucking hell." I chuckle some more. "You're not going to be one of those people who tries to make sense of every picture and what the girl is doing, are you?"
"I don't know what that means, but what I do know is this woman is super bendy. How . . ." Emma sets the magazine down, open to the page she's looking at, and gets on all fours on my bed.
Oh. Fuck.
She starts popping her backside in the air, her pert, little ass shaking before me and asks, "How is she doing that? Am I bending like her?"
I swallow hard, really fucking hard, as I glance at the picture Emma is trying to recreate on my bed and then back at her. Her shirt is starting to move up her back, exposing a small patch of skin. "Uh . . ." No fucking words, none. All thought has quickly disappeared as the blood in my body starts to pool uncomfortably in my crotch.