7. Roland

Alan smiled at me. It was a nice smile, showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth. "And the guy actually bit into the peach, can you believe it?" He laughed, and I decided he had a nice laugh too. "He had no clue what was wrong with it, not even when he'd eaten the whole thing! I didn't have the heart to tell him." He gestured with his hands as he talked, and yep, he had nice hands, with long, slender fingers, no sign of a single callous since he worked a desk job as an architect.

I laughed along with his story because it seemed to be required of me, and I was struck by a wave of guilt. There was nothing wrong with the guy. In fact, on paper, he was everything right. He was smart, funny, good-looking, respectful, successful, and driven—but all my mind could see was that he wasn't Emerson.

When Alan's gaze softened and he bit his lower lip, I felt a prickle of panic. I knew that look. "Did you want dessert, or should we get out of here?" he asked, his voice getting deeper. Shit. After dinner came the part where he drove me home. He would probably want to kiss me, maybe more.

I pushed my chair back from the table. "Uh, you know, actually, dessert sounds great. I'm just gonna… run to the bathroom, and you order for me."

His eyebrows jumped. "Sure, what did you want?"

My heart was beating too fast. I was sure I was probably flushed, and I didn't want him to get the wrong impression. This blush wasn't meant for him. "I dunno. Surprise me." If I didn't get away from this table, I was going to have a meltdown right here in the dining room.

He chuckled. "This feels like a test."

"Oh, it's absolutely a test," I teased, while backing away from the table. He laughed lightly, totally oblivious to how I was already mentally checking out of this date.

I burst out of the dining room into the hallway, gasping. "Fuck," I muttered, rubbing at my temples. This was such a mistake.

I didn't really need the bathroom, so instead, I decided to wander up to the desk for a few minutes, maybe shoot the shit with Emily. Anything but sitting across from that perfect man who felt all wrong.

Before I had even reached the lobby, I could hear the rumble of thunder from outside. Through the wall of windows, I could see a torrential downpour had started coming down, flooding the streets and spilling over the sidewalks. I stood there and watched for a minute, flinching at the bright flare of lightning that lit up the street like it was daytime. In the resulting boom of thunder, I didn't hear the door open off to my right. I gasped when something clamped down around my wrist, and I was jerked to the side. I nearly lost my footing, but before I could stumble, strong arms banded around me. I caught sight of blond hair and ice-blue eyes, just before the door was once again closed and darkness descended.

"Mr. Holland? What the hell are you doing? Why are we in the supply closet?" I asked, even as I grabbed a hold of his lapels, clinging to him. Was this a dream? So many of my fantasies started just like this.

I could barely see the sheen of his eyes in the darkness. "Are you sure he's right for you?" he burst out without answering my question. "This date of yours, whatever his name is?"

"Honestly, no," I admitted, feeling a little irritated, "but does that matter?" Was he really going to pull this macho jealousy bullshit right now? Because I didn't think I could handle that, not when I was already struggling to get through this date as it was.

Emerson frowned, blinking down at me. "Why waste your time with someone who isn't worthy of you?"

Gods! Didn't he get it? I shoved off his chest, putting some distance between us. "Why waste time pining over someone who doesn't want me?!" I nearly shouted in his face. "I'm lonely, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I want to cook dinner with someone, wake up every morning with them. I want to feel like I'm the center of someone's world." My throat clamped shut, and tears threatened to overflow. "And I refuse to wait around for you to see me." I spun on my heel and reached for the doorknob, prepared to storm off with all the drama I could muster, but he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me back hard into his chest.

"I see you, okay?" he whispered harshly against the back of my neck, his breath skating over my sensitive skin and raising goosebumps that tingled downward. "Gods, I've always seen you. I'll never see anyone else the way I see you."

His grip on me was tight, but he loosened enough to let me spin around in his arms until our chests were pressed flush. When he didn't pull away as usual, I reached up with shaking hands and cupped his cheeks, and he dipped down to rest his forehead on mine and closed his eyes. He looked so damn tired.

"Then why?" I asked.

"I'm your boss," he tried, the same used-up excuse. "I can't take advantage of you."

"Isn't there a form we can sign? Do we have an HR department? And if that's not good enough, then I'll quit," I said simply.

His eyes flew open, shocked. "What? You can't quit."

"It's just a job, Emerson. I can get another one." I ran my thumb slowly along his bottom lip. "I'm only working here to be close to you." The admission slipped out, but I didn't regret saying it.

"I-I'm too old for you," he sputtered, searching for another excuse, his fingers digging into hips.

I tipped up onto my toes, brushing my nose along his. "It makes me feel safe with you, like you'll know how to protect me and care for me."

He groaned softly. "Roland, you're making it impossible to stay away from you."

"Then don't stay away," I whispered against his lips.

I really didn't expect anything to happen, because nothing ever happened. I'd spent years anticipating the moment when the barriers between us would come down, but it had always been this impossibility, this massive what-if that lived in my dreams. It wasn't real.

No sooner had that thought come into my head than everything came crashing down. I felt the exact second it happened. Emerson let out this animalistic growl, wrapped an arm around my waist to drag me in and up off my feet against his hard body, then his lips crashed down on mine, entirely owning me.

No matter how many times I'd imagined it, my fantasies were no comparison to the real thing. It started off hard, almost angry, as he swept his tongue into my mouth, licking every part of me. He tasted just like he smelled, absolutely divine, and he swallowed down my moans like they were keeping him alive. And then the kiss shifted into something else, turning softer, our mouths melding, and my entire body seemed to melt against him, our mountains and valleys fitting together like a puzzle, like he was the part of me I'd always been missing. I felt whole for the first time in my life, and it was everything. It was like being drained but filled up at the same time. My lungs expanded to near bursting as I tried to absorb everything about him, breathing in the air that had once been inside him.

His hands were everywhere, groping and kneading. Emerson didn't even seem aware of what he was doing, and I wasn't about to clue him in; I didn't want to break the spell. He tore at my shirt, pulling it out from where it was tucked into my pants, searching for skin. "Fuck, Roland," he gritted out as he worked his way down my neck, placing wet open-mouthed kisses on every inch of me he could reach. "You taste so sweet."

I wanted to taste him too, but straight from the source. I could feel his erection grinding right alongside mine, and I reached between us and palmed his cock. His hips jerked in encouragement. I made a very unmanly sound and went weak in the knees. Was this real? Did I really have Emerson Holland's dick in my hand? Gods, he was huge too, and so fucking hard. I stroked him through his pants, but it wasn't enough. I fumbled with his belt buckle, trying to get his pants undone.

While he didn't stop me, his lips did stutter to a stop just above my collarbone. "Roland, we should—" He didn't have a chance to tell me what we should do before the door behind me opened. Light spilled into the small, dark space, and I caught sight of Emerson's kiss-swollen lips as he jerked upright at the intrusion, a look of panic on his face. Without a second's hesitation, he picked me straight up and shoved me behind him, as though protecting me from some unknown assailant.

When I peeked around him, though, I saw it was only Patrick, likely coming to grab some cleaning supplies. He froze, blinking at the sight, before his smirk spread across his face. "Ohhh, sorry to interrupt. As you were," he said, waving vaguely as he closed the door once more.

Shit, he was totally going to write us into his next romance novel.

We were plunged back into darkness, leaving the outline of our intruder burned into my eyes like a bad omen. Even before I placed my hand on Emerson's shoulder, I knew it was too late; he was already halfway gone.

"Hey, Emerson," I said, trying to get him to face me, but his entire body was rigid. "Would you turn around and look at me?" I snapped, on the defensive, since this was starting to look more familiar, more what I was used to when it came to my boss.

Sure enough, he stepped away, and cold air came rushing in to fill the space between us. "Roland, we need to stop," he said without looking at me.

"Bullshit!" Anger surged through my veins to replace the lust.

He sighed, sounding more than just exhausted. He sounded defeated. "You're a forever kind of guy, Roland, and I… can't be that for you." And just like that, he opened the door and strode away, leaving me confused and frustrated as hell.

Fuck. I knew it was too good to be true.