the hook-up. {ethma}

Chapter 35

ethan dolan

I HAVE EMMA all to myself for seven days. Seven days of living by what I start to call the holy trinity of "S" sex, sleep, and sustenance. It's all we really need. My bed is base camp, though we've made forays onto the couch, the kitchen counter, and that one time on my weight bench, though I can't recall how we even got there. I can, however, recall with perfect clarity the way Emma came, how her inner walls clutched me as she cried out. Which makes me horny all over again as I hobble out to the kitchen for more sustenance.

As a guy who has always operated under a schedule, I thought I'd grow antsy, need to get out and about, but I'm loving the break. As long as I don't think about football, I'm happy. Relaxed. When was the last time I was relaxed? I don't even remember. I do know one thing; it's because I'm with Emma. Emma who loves me. God, having her love does me in. It makes me feel as weak as a fucking kitten and as big as a fucking mountain.

As if my thoughts pulled her in, Emma enters the living room. Only she's carrying her overnight bag. Like that, my stomach bottoms out.

"You're going?" I think I sound casual, but I can't be sure. I'm too off balance to gage it.

She plops the bag down on the couch to put her hair in a ponytail. "I need to do some laundry."

"You can do it here." Smooth. That didn't sound at all needy.

She gives me a quick smile. "I know. But I'm kind of sick of these clothes too."

Right. Well, there goes that argument.

Walking with her usual casual grace, she heads for the kitchen. "After breakfast, I think I'll head home and get a few things done."

I flick the back of my nail against my orange juice glass. "Okay."

I don't know what is wrong with me. I like my solitude. Emma ought to be able to take off whenever she wants. And I ought to be fine with that. I just know that the moment she walks out of this house, she'll take the sunshine of my day with her.

A loud, long buzz sounds, and the scent of coffee fills the air. The espresso maker. Deon brought it back earlier, pretending he'd been borrowing it while I was laid up in the hospital, a lie for which I'm still extremely grateful. Especially when Emma squealed over the thing like a kid on Christmas morning and tackled me when I'd told her I had bought it for her.

Emma takes her newly filled cup over to the counter and sits on one of the bar stools. She's wearing a white muscle shirt and boy short panties. It's fucking hot. I'm tempted to push the top over her breasts and suck the sweet tips, but there's a pit in my stomach that won't go away.

Oblivious of my souring mood, Emma rakes a tumble of hair from her face and takes a sip of coffee. "Tonight I'm going to go out with Olivia and George." She eyes me, and I don't miss the hesitation in her expression. "You ought to go out too. Maybe hang with your friends. Dex keeps calling."

She's afraid I'll become a hermit. Too late.

"Subtle, Chambie."

Unrepentant, she grins. "It's one of my many qualities."

I snort. "Fine. I'll go out." I don't want to, but I'll be damned if I'll give her a reason to start pitying me.

"Good." She grabs a banana, frowns at it, then puts it down before hoping off the stool. Her pert ass lifts in the air as she rummages around in the depths of the fridge. "So I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

My hand tightens on my glass.

"You can come back here tonight, Emma. It's fine. You have a key."