Something About Emmett (Billionaire Romance) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 16 - Something Impossible

I awoke in degrees. Slowly, carefully, as if I were debating whether I truly wanted to gain consciousness. When I was very nearly fully awake, I tried shutting my eyes to see whether or not I'd fall back asleep, but it didn't work. I was already too aware of my surroundings.

This room was a soft and pretty shade of blue, with dark gray furnishings just as decadent as those belonging to the rest of the house. It was armed fully with a dresser, a standing mirror, a decently sized television, and a large window that looked out into the driveway. There was no adjoining bathroom, as Emmett had told me my guest room would have, so I judged that I hadn't fled to the room he had intended for me. I had been so preoccupied running last night that finding it hadn't been on my list of priorities.

Laughing at myself, and slapping my forehead in consternation, I stood up from the bed and started along my quest for a bathroom. I already knew that down this hall and to the left would be the large one I had showered in, so I started heading its way.

I wondered if he was here, or at work, but I couldn't tell; the house was in complete and utter silence but for the slight sound of my feet against the white marbled floors.

The doubt was so present in my mind even after using the restroom, that I thought I could just head to his room and find out. But where was it? I had been half unconscious when he had carried me to it the night before yesterday. Groaning, I tried to remember whether or not he had climbed any stairs, until it clicked in my brain, and I remembered that he most definitely had.

It made sense for his room to be on the second floor of the house, since everything else seemed to happen on the first floor. Knowing him, he would want the quiet and the privacy, even though he lived alone, because any guests wouldn't need to go upstairs unless invited.

Then came the other debilitating thought, and I asked myself if I should even go in my search, or if it would be an intrusion to go prattling around his house so nosy-like. But my feet started to move of their own accord, and quietly, as if he were listening, I made my way up the beautiful marble staircase, cold and sleek under my toes. I did not have to think twice about the location, even though I could not remember it for certain, because I knew upon looking at it that the lone door at the right end of the hall was his. It was casted aside- just as in his office downtown- from other rooms I could only guess at.

I went to it and quietly opened the door, peeking quietly and with care. There was a large, tall figure under the sheets, and I could see his soft brown curls resting against his neck. He laid on his back, one golden arm stretched out over a pillow, each muscle visible even as he slept. His body was heavy and indulgent in slumber, taking up a great deal of the mattress. Guiltily, I crept forward, letting my eyes feast on his form without a single thought to hold me back.

How a man could be so painstakingly beautiful was beyond me, and a lump formed in my chest with with a strong, vigorous need. I wanted so badly to touch the bronze of his skin, but I was afraid that he would burn, and I craved so desperately to touch his hair, to feel it under my fingers.

I was so afraid of myself, and what he did to me, that I had to wake him. I shook him softly and called his name, my voice strained against my lips.

"Emmett," I urged, trying to rouse him. But he simply let out a steady groan, peeking irritated green eyes from underneath his lashes.

His hand came to my waist as he pulled me down, crashing me against the mattress and bringing me against his side. I came against his body with an audible oof, and instantly felt the heavy weight of his arm, caging me, as he fell instantly back into sleep with me nestled tightly under his weight.

My heart started to speed in a surge of panic, lurching in my chest at the proximity of his skin, blazing warm, against mine. I knew I could slip away, carefully and without rousing the sleeping man, but I could not find it in me to move. I was held captive under the weakening surprise of him, pinning me to his bed as he slept.