Page 64 of Emily: Hello Kitten
The made up ‘fireplace’ flickers on the T.V. this time, and he takes a seat on the couch, pulling me with him.
“Tell me something about you, Adrian.”
He hums and drapes his arm over me. “You know about my tattoos, about what books I like to read. What more do you want to know?”
“Everything,” I say with a soft laugh.
His fingers tease over my arm as the fire from the screen reflects in his green gaze. “I don’t have the same bond you have with your family. Mine has always been supportive, told me to chase my dreams, grab what I want to have in my life, and never let go if I find something that makes me happy.”
He takes a sharp breath, his gaze dropping to my hand resting on his thighs. “And I got everything, Emily.”
My chest tightens, and I take a deep breath.
“It wasn’t without struggle, but would the reward be as sweet without it?” His eyes find mine, and something stirs deep in my stomach.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask, trying to ignore the intensity of his stare.
He chuckles. “I have an older brother, Alex. He’s a piece of work, always says what’s on his mind. Especially when it’s a sore subject.” Another laugh falls. “He doesn’t mean to be harsh. It’s just who he is.”
“What does he do for a living?”
He shakes his head. “Something your parents would be very happy with.”
“Oh, God,” I say, laughter bubbling. “He’s a lawyer?”
“Sure is.”
I listen closely to every word that drops from his lips, every story about his life and the bonds he has with his family.
This side of him, this part he’s finally showing me, draws me closer. So close that I’m scared I won’t be able to rip myself free. But then I feel it, that soft stammer of my heart, that soft flutter in my stomach.
I don’t want to be free of him. I want more of him.
“Emily?”
“Yes?” I ask, peeking up at him.
“Don’t scare me like that again, please.” His voice breaks, and I gaze up at him. His green eyes stare down at me, soft and broken.
I hate that I hurt him. I never meant to do that. “I won’t. I promise,” I whisper as his fingers graze up to my hair, gently running through.
He sighs in relief and reaches for one of the books on the coffee table and pets his lap. I smile, scooting down, and rest my head on his lap.
I swallow, watching his face, his lips as he starts to read to me, effortlessly bringing life to the story as I drown in the sound of his voice and the soft strokes of his fingers.
Page after page as this warmth spreads inside me.
I rub his knee, and he glances down at me. “Are you hungry, baby?”
“Yes,” I answer softly.
He nods and closes the book.
“Don’t stop reading. I like it,” I whisper.
He smiles and sets the book down but continues telling the story, his low voice perfect, easy. I smile, melting into his velvety words. At the same time, he starts typing on his phone.
After a bit, I lift my head and look at what he’s doing. Ordering burgers for us. I snuggle closer, brushing my fingers over hischest, then down his hip to where the scorpion is half hidden by his boxers.
