28. Gianna

"Stupid or not stupid?" I asked for a second time, rubbing my hands along the hem of the pin-striped jersey. It fell just above my knee, so it wasn't too short. Although I never planned to wear it out of the house, so I supposed it didn't matter.

"You made that?" Mila cocked her head as she leaned closer to the screen. "How?"

"TikTok taught me." That didn't matter. I just wanted to know if this was a dumb idea before I embarrassed myself. "Linc?"

"I'm with Mila. How did you make a dress out of his jersey?"

With a sigh, I rushed through the explanation so we could get back to my question. "I bought a jersey a few sizes too big so I'd get a good amount of length. Then I trimmed the extra fabric off the sides to fit it to me. After I did that, I squared the neckline, because if you have boobs you need cleavage, or it's just unflattering. Then I stitched it up with my serger and sewed up the button line so it wouldn't pull open."

"You brought your serger to Boston?" Mila asked.

"Mi, I brought everything I didn't sell to Boston. I don't own anything that isn't with me." I shifted from one foot to the other on my wedges. "So, is this dumb? He texted me fifteen minutes ago to say he landed. He should be here soon." I waved my hands up and down the dress.

"I mean…" Linc looked me over from top to bottom and back. "Hair is perfection. You wanded that shit up. I'm always jealous of your lashes. Like, babe, people pay for the length God just gave you."

Although I appreciated the compliments, I'd gone to school for hair and makeup, so that wasn't my worry.

"The dress looks super hot." Mila nodded.

"And the red lips are a nice touch. Every straight male dreams of red lips around his cock." Linc shrugged.

Sighing, I flopped onto the chair. "Guys, I meant the idea. Is this stupid?"

Mila shook her head. "It's a thing. At least in books." She sat up straight and clasped her hands, all formal-like, as if she was teaching a class. "Men who play sports like to see the girl they're sleeping with wearing their jersey. Brings out that alpha dominance."

"True," Linc jumped in. "Whereas I prefer?—"

"I don't want to know." Mila cut him off, and they both cracked up.

"So leave it on?" I asked.

"Yes. And we want all the details." Linc waggled his brow.

"Some details. I don't need nor want them all." Mila frowned.

"Nope, we want them all. Every single one, down to exactly how veiny his cock is." Linc smirked.

"Never going to happen, but thanks." I tapped the End button on my phone, and the image of my friends was replaced with my home screen. With a glance at the time, I changed the oven from bake to warm so the manicotti wouldn't burn and then tossed a wet paper towel over the salad and stuck it in the fridge. The wine was open and breathing on the counter. Everything was perfect.

The small click of the lock hit me a second before the door pushed open.

"Damn, it smells good in here," Emerson said, his voice quiet.

I leaned against the counter and cocked a hip.

"Gi?" his deep voice called.

Second-guessing my pose, I crossed my legs so they'd look smaller, then I shifted again and was half in a new position when he walked into the kitchen space. So rather than looking sexy, I looked like a cat, frozen and wide-eyed, ready to pounce.

For one second, he paused. Then his eyes snapped to my outfit, and the corner of his mouth kicked up.

"I was planning to look cute when you walked in." I sighed, shoulders slumping.

He strode over and stopped in front of me. Then he lifted his finger to trace the blue 21 on my breast. The touch sent goose bumps skittering down my arms.

"You look like everything I want and can't call mine." With that same hand, he gripped the back of my neck, his callused hand biting into my skin. "You look like the dream I'll hang on to and pull out on a bad day."

He pressed his lips lightly to mine for a heartbeat, then pulled back and rested his forehead against mine. "This is what coming home should feel like."

Really? How could he feel that way if he'd closed himself off to anything but a casual fling?

"Feel better today?" he asked, not moving away. He tipped his head slightly and nuzzled into my hair, and when he pulled in a deep breath and held it like he was savoring it, my whole body buzzed.

He'd checked in on me more than once over the last two days. But I was fine. Jake was a jerk. He'd always be a jerk. And a new project had come in. That was keeping me busy and keeping my mind occupied. It was better than the uncertainty of no income. Plus, I was having fun with the Little Fingers logo.

"Today was good, but it's better now that you're here."

"Is that so?" he asked, a smile in his voice as he kept his face pressed to mine. His hands skimmed down my body and rested on my ass, and with a jerk, he yanked me against him. Behind his zipper, he was hard and warm. As he ground his cock against my thigh, his leg vibrated. Pulling back, he dug his phone out of his pocket.

Zara. The name flashed on the screen.

"Give me one sec. This is important," he said to me as he wandered out of the room. "Hey, bebé."

God, I hated that term. Why was everyone and their mother his baby except me?

His voice faded as he moved farther away, and I clenched my jaw, choking back my anger and hurt. Had he really just walked away in the middle of that to talk to some other girl?

My heart raced. Who left their?—

Shit. Their what? Roommate? Fling? Possible hookup? Yeah, everyone left those kinds of people for important phone calls. Because all of those terms described someone who was expendable.

I turned and took in the skyline outside the huge windows across the open room, annoyed with myself. There I was, hair and makeup all done. Attempting perfection but just being not good enough. With the sun almost set, the windows reflected my image. Me in the stupid jersey dress. I glared at myself and shook my head. Dinner, wine, a homemade dress. I was doing it again. Going all-in for someone who wasn't there with me.

Swallowing back the emotion pricking behind my eyes, I poured wine into one stemless glass I'd set out on the quartz countertop. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? I stormed back to my room and took off the jersey opting for shorts and crop top. Then heading back to the kitchen, I grabbed my drink and I moved to the window taking in the harbor spread out below. With a deep gulp of wine, I shut my eyes.

Emerson returned to the kitchen, fumbling around noisily as always, but I didn't move. Not even as he padded toward me. It wasn't until he put a hand on my hip that I opened my eyes and moved away.

Before I could even open my mouth, he spoke.

"Settle down." He put his hand on my hip again and gave it a quick squeeze before releasing me. "You too the jersey off?"

"Dumb idea." I snapped.

"Zara is Asher Price's wife. She does corporate investigations and media spin."

That statement took the wind out of my sails. The hurt was still there, but it was mixed with confusion and maybe a hint of relief.

"I asked her to look into something for me."

I spun and frowned at him, trying to decode his words.

"Jake's an ass." He sighed. "I doubted you were the first person he'd treated badly at the douche firm. So I had her ask some questions."

My stomach twisted in a knot. Why was he doing this? And would it come back to bite me once Jake caught wind that I had something to do with it?

"Turns out he's made a few people upset over the years."

"Wait." I held a hand up. "You asked her to do that for me?"

He weighed the statement, tipping his head one way, then the other, before finally saying, "I asked her to find a way to ruin the fucker that didn't involve you at all." Hands fisted at his sides, he grunted. "I can't stand the fact that he hurt you. But I refuse to mess anything up for you, so I made sure to keep you out of it."

My heart cracked. All the mad that had been there seconds ago disappeared, and in its place was this swamping emotion I couldn't name. No one had ever done anything like that for me.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped. But I can't live with the idea of him not suffering for making you cry."

I rushed forward and threw my arms around him. "I'm sorry," I mumbled against his chest.

"For what?" he asked, tucking me into his body.

"I was pissed at you for leaving me to talk to a girl, but it was all about me," I admitted, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.

He chuckled. "I love when you're fired up. Don't ever apologize for being pissed. But I am sad you took off my jersey because I've been dying to see my number on you."

"Well…" The idea he didn't sign things had haunted me for awhile now. Maybe…

I pulled out of his arms and moved to the counter reaching for a sharpie from the cup before coming back to him. My stomach fluttered slightly once again worried he'd think this was dumb.

"Think you could give me an autograph?"

He cocked his head to the side as I passed him the marker then I slowly lowered my shorts and spun to face the window.

He sucked in a hard breath but I heard him uncap the marker. "Damn Gi, I love the idea of my name on you." His warm palm hit the bare skin of my ass pushing my shorts down so I could step out of them completely before the cold marker touched me. It moved quickly along my skin then it was gone. He bent and pressed his lips to the same spot and I shivered. "Mine." The words were barely a whisper against me before he stood. But the idea of being his lingered, it felt too good for the casual we were supposed to be and I couldn't let myself get caught up in that.

"Thank you." Popping up on my toes, I pressed my lips to his. Quickly, desire took over, and I ran my tongue along the seam of his mouth.

With a groan, he yanked away. "What am I eating first, dinner or you?"

"Home team's choice."

The deep chuckle that reverberated through him made me shudder in the best way. "That's you every time."

A whimper rumbled in my throat as his mouth met mine. I parted my lips, and his tongue invaded, thrusting deep, desperate to meet mine. Leaning in, he pressed me tight to the cool glasses with his hard chest and smooth stomach. He snaked one hand down and grasped my thigh, hooking it over his hip.

He rocked his long erection against me, using his free hand to tug my hair and tip my chin up. My head banged against the glass, and I moaned. With a grunt, he pulled his lips from mine, then ran them along my jaw, his teeth nipping at my skin.

"You're hot and wet already, aren't you?" He swirled his hips against me and I thrust against him. His cock, so hard, pushed against the thin material of his dress pants, begging to be free, to sink into me. "You need my cock, don't you? Did you think about me coming home and fucking you real good, Gi?"

"Yes." I moaned. I needed nothing between us.

He nipped at my neck again, sending a zap of electricity to my core. "Did you touch this pussy, fuck your fingers, and pretend it was me?" He lapped against my collarbone, his tongue running along the swell of my breast. Then, abruptly, he released me and dropped to his knee.

My body buzzed with a pounding desire, but all coherent thought had left me.

"Because I fucked my hand thinking about you."

"Em." I whimpered.

As he slowly slid his fingers up my bare legs, I shivered with anticipation. I was desperate for him to touch me. He looked up, eyes dark with need, for an instant before he lowered his face and ran his nose along my thigh. It was almost embarrassing, the way my body was primed for him.

He ran his nose along the white lace covering me.

"Mmm, you smell so fucking good, all needy and ready for me." His fingers bit into my ass cheeks as he pulled me closer, then he released his grip and hooked them into the waistband of my thong. "Now be my good girl and step out of these so I can have some of my favorite flavor." He yanked the lace down my legs, and then his mouth was pressed to my skin. Slowly, his lips roamed up my inner thigh.

"Emerson, please," I begged.

He smiled against my skin. "I know, Mariposa. I'll make your body sing for me."

Slowly, he lifted my leg over his shoulder and hovered, his breath brushing against my pussy. And when I thought I couldn't stand it one more second, he took one long, painfully slow swipe along my slit.

"Oh God." I leaned back, the glass cool against my ass cheeks as his hot mouth covered me. I was so close already. Two swipes of his tongue, and my legs were quivering. I grabbed his hair, holding him against me.

He chuckled, and the vibration shot up my spine. With another long lap, he sucked hard on my clit, making my whole body tighten. Buzz. He alternated between slow laps and sucks until I was on the edge, and tight swirling need rushed through my body. Finally, I broke and bucked against his face, coming hard.

"Emerson," I called.

"Yes. That's it. Drown me," he moaned against my pussy. As soon as the last wave of pleasure stopped, he was on his feet, pressing his lips to mine, owning my mouth the way he'd owned my pussy.

"I need to feel you inside me," I begged, reaching between us to release him from his pants.

"Condom." He started to pull away, but I stopped him.

"I'm on birth control. And after…" I shook my head. "I was tested. I'm good."

He nodded. "Me too. But if I'm taking you bare, I want all your skin." He pulled the tank top over my head, then ran a finger down the center of my chest to the bra clasp between them. As he released it and my breasts spilled out, a shiver racked through me.

"Looking at you steals the breath from my body." He perused every inch of my skin. "I just need one taste." Angling forward, he wrapped his lips around my nipple.

I whimpered at the thrill that raced down my body. "More," I begged.

He switched to the other side for one moment before pulling back and yanking the Revs polo over his head. As it fell to the floor and he went to work on the button and zipper of his pants, he kept his eyes on me. Once he'd kicked off his shoes and his pants, only stumbling once, he lifted my leg and hooked it over his hip.

Eyes locked with mine, he sank into me.

My head fell back against the glass and I moaned.

"Fuck, Gi," he gritted out, tipping back and watching the place we were joined. His breath picked up, and he thrust, swirling his hips. "Nothing is prettier than your pussy taking my cock against the night sky."

The glass was more of a mirror from the outside, and no one could see us. Even so, the idea of Boston behind me made me throb.

He dropped his hands to my ass, gripping tight, as he slowly slid back out before thrusting deep. "The way you feel against me. Around me," he groaned. "I'm not going to last." With that, he quickened his pace, slamming into me hard and deep.

Every thrust of his hips pressed me harder into the glass. Over and over, rocking deep. My stomach tightened. My legs quivered.

"Come on, Gi. Come for me," he begged as he thrust hard.

The cold behind me biting against my skin, his hot body pressing against my breasts, the feel of him deep inside me—it was all too much. But at the same time, it wasn't enough. All I could do was cling to him as I clenched around him.

"Oh yeah. That's it." He thrust once more, twice, and on the third, he groaned my name, pulsing inside me and filling me up.

He collapsed against me, panting into my neck. And we stood there for just one minute, but that minute felt perfect.

"Come on," he mumbled. "I need to clean you up."

He finally pulled away and led me down the hall to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, I was in one of his Boston Revs T-shirts and he was in a pair of black boxers, forking bites of manicotti straight out of the dish.

"Second best thing I've had all day," Emerson said, shoving another bite into his mouth.

I rolled my eyes. "First being the salad?"

"First being your pussy as you came all over my face."

A shot of heat rushed through me at the image he painted. "Emerson!"

"You asked." He chuckled, stabbing another forkful of manicotti. "What are your plans for the week?"

I shrugged. "I don't have much. I need to send Dylan some mockups before the end of the week."

He set the fork down and shifted, his focus drifting to something just over my shoulder. "We have a game in New York on Tuesday, and then I'm taking a couple of days off." Popping his knuckles, he cleared his throat. "I'm going home for my sister's graduation and party. And I, uh…" He paused, his expression uncertain. "Want to come?"

My heart stuttered in my chest, and my eyes shot wide. "To the graduation?"

"The game…" He sighed. "Zara's going, and she'd love for you to come with her. She won't mention it to Chris…"

Oh. Not to meet his family. Just go to the game. I fought the way my shoulders wanted to slump and swallowed back the disappointment that shouldn't have hit me over a possibility that didn't even exist two minutes ago.

"But yeah. After, I'd love it if you came home to my mom's with me for a couple of days…" He ducked his head and used his fork to toy with the manicotti in the dish. "Unless you don't want to."

How badly I wanted to go wasn't even rational. Because people having flings didn't hang out with one another's families. I'd only met Jake's parents once in the almost two years we'd dated.

"You don't have to," he said, his cheeks going pink.

I reached a hand out and put it over his. "Em, I'd love to."

His eyes shot to mine. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

His answering smile burrowed its way into my heart. I gave him a soft smile in return. All the while, my emotions were in overdrive, because everything about this moment made it feel like we could have more.