Disappointed and more than embarrassed, I shut my bedroom door and go straight to my bed where I bury my head in my pillow.
Do not cry, Emma. This is not something you cry over. This is merely an experience that ended sooner than you expected.
Despite my self-talk, my nose starts to sting, the moment in the kitchen playing over and over in my head. Why did he stop? Was I a bad kisser? Was I not what he expected? Did I disappoint the hype he might have had in his head? Was it because I'm not her and never will be?
I can't stop the stinging feeling in my nose and before I know it, tears start to leak from the corners of my eyes. The tingling, burning sensation of having Tucker's hands and mouth all over me is quickly washed away by a vat of utter mortification.
There had to be something-
My door opens and without turning around I can feel Tucker's presence. I have my back turned away from him so he can't see the devastation I'm feeling.
"Emma."
I don't think I have the strength for this . . .
Chapter Fourteen
TUCKER
Fuck.
The grip on the back of my neck is so tense that it almost feels like I'm about to move all of my vertebras out of place with one swift movement.
What the hell do I do?
I kissed her. I fucking kissed Emma Marks. The sweet, compassionate, slightly spicy Emma I grew up with, and I only have myself to blame.
It's been a monumental buildup from the moment I saw her at the bar, to her impersonating Playboy models, to her blatant staring and thick-dick comments, to the way she practically hums with pleasure when I invade her space. Tension, sexual frustration, and yearning built and fucking built until I could no longer resist her.
I've wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you at the bar.
What was I thinking? Hell, I wasn't thinking, I was acting on pure instinct, on desire, on everything I've been holding back since the moment that incredible woman walked back into my life.
And I pushed her. Fuck, did I push her. I wanted to see how far I could go, how many innocent touches I could get in, how many times I could crowd her space just to catch a glimpse of her scent. She might think it wasn't fair to her, but it wasn't fair to me either.
But tonight, seeing her in those matching pajamas, bright-eyed, beautiful, and innocent, fuck, I couldn't hold back. I had to know if she wanted to fuck me. From her body language, the way her eyes would peruse me every chance they got, or the hitch in her breath when I walked by her, I knew there had to be something there, but I had to hear it from her lips, those sweet, plump lips.
Christ.
I run both hands through my hair and glance toward her bedroom. That kiss, fuck, it's still making my body hot. And then like an asshole, I pulled away, unsure of every little nip and press of my lips I gave her.
It's not that I don't want her, that couldn't be further from the truth. But it's hard, giving in to the desire coursing through me when thoughts of Sadie still lurk in the back of my mind, taunting me every goddamn day of my life with what could have been, the future we missed out on, the world we could have created just between the two of us. The world she didn't want. Doesn't want.
Get over it.
It's the common thought in my mind. Drop it, she's moved on. But how can I drop it when I'm far from moving on? When I don't want to move on? When there is a room right across from Emma's that was designated for the little life we were supposed to bring into this world?
Taking a deep breath, my hands on my hips, I look to the ceiling and try to ease the ache in my chest. I can't worry about Sadie or what could have been. I need to focus on the present and the present isn't looking too special right now. But it was.
Flashes of Emma's face plague me as I think about what I said to her. I lost control . . .
Yeah, I fucking lost control, but in one of the hottest ways possible, with her lips screaming across mine, full of sweet relief from the fucking incredible tension built between us. And then like the bastard I am, I threw it away.
I need to make this better. Despite my reservations, my baggage, I can't let Emma think she's anything less than perfect.
Storming to her room, I open the door without knocking to find her curled up on her bed, a slight shake in her shoulders.
Fuck. Me.
One word falls past my lips; it's all I can get out.
"Emma."
Keeping her back turned away from me, she refuses to rollover as she says, "I'm tired, Tucker."
Her voice wavers with each word, a mirror image of anguish passing through her. God, I hurt her.
Knowing I did this to her . . . again . . . I take a step forward, past the books and pillows on the floor from her study session with Adalyn and tread carefully.