Teasing: Chapter 11

The mood at Kingdom is absolutely electric. People pack the dance floor, lost in the sexy rhythm of the music, while the band plays a heavy beat, and the hot-as-hell lead singer in ripped fishnet stockings and tight, short black shorts sings about being desperate for something.

I know that feeling.

Here’s the thing though . . . Lilah wasn’t lying. The singer is hot. Tall, blonde, and built like a brick shithouse. But she’s not the woman I want—because life’s just not that easy. The woman I want isn’t just hot. She’s fucking exquisite. Soft curves, soft smiles, and a sharp tongue that’s so damn sexy, I get hard just thinking about it.

A groan forms low in my throat as I catch a shadow out of the corner of my eye moving in next to me.

“What’s with the whole moody, emo, bastard thing you’ve got going on?”

I turn my head, not surprised to find my cousin Maddox standing next to me on the closed-off VIP balcony of our uncle’s club. “Emo? Seriously?”

He taps his glass of whiskey to my bottle of beer and tips his chin. “I mean, to each his own, man. But why the hell are you off in a corner, sulking?”

“Thought you were the all-knowing,” I call him out, looking down at the floor below us. At our friends and family, dancing and partying as one of Lilah’s former opening acts jams out on stage.

“I know you’re a fucking idiot,” he jokes.

“You’re unsurprisingly not the first person to tell me that today. Might want to ask Jamie how it went for him,” I warn, even if I’m kidding.

Maddox stares at me for a long minute, unamused. “Want to talk about it?”

I lift my bottle to my lips and think about it for a second before I drink. “Not even a little bit.”

“So it’s a woman, huh?”

“You heard me say I didn’t want to talk, right?” The crowd below us screams as the band pulls Lilah on stage to sing with them.

“Get your shit together, or don’t. That’s on you.”

“Thanks, Yoda,” I grumble.

How many fucking people can lecture me today?

And why am I letting them?

“You ever want something you know you shouldn’t have?” I give in and ask Madman.

“Every day for almost a year,” he deadpans quickly, shocking the shit out of me. “But I want something I can’t have. Pretty sure you’re torturing yourself over something you can have. There’s a massive difference.”

“Has anybody ever told you the way you have of knowing everything is unsettling? Because it is.” I don’t bother asking how he knows or even making sure we’re talking about the same damn thing because it doesn’t matter. It’s another check mark in the why the hell am I here instead of home column.

“I watch. It’s what I do. You’ve always acted. It’s what you do. Or it sounds like what you used to do.”

I take another sip of beer, unwilling to admit he’s right.

“You’ve always been the first one to jump into shit, Mav. You got me in so much trouble growing up because you had to do everything I was doing, like a little dickhead. It didn’t matter that you were younger. You were fearless. Act first, think later. How many times did our moms get on us about that shit?”

We both laugh because it’s true. He got in more trouble than I did because Mom and Aunt Amelia always said he was older and should know better. Guess that made me a little asshole.

“Wanna tell me what’s changed?” Maddox pushes as the song changes and the beat of one of Lilah’s biggest hits starts bouncing off the rafters.

What’s changed?

What hasn’t is a better question, but either of them are simple to answer.

“Rosie.” I picture the way she smiles at Emmie. “She changed it all. My life. My priorities. Rosie changed everything. Her happiness and her safety trump everything else.”

“Bullshit. I’ve watched you hookup with plenty of people since Rosie was born. You didn’t stop because of her, you just became more discreet. But rumor has it the new nanny has you tied in knots.”

What fucking rumor?

Who the hell is talking about this shit?

“Since when do you believe everything you hear?” I want to tell him I’m not tied in knots, but I’m not a liar. Although my thoughts have me questioning if I’m a damn coward.

“Answer one question, and I’ll leave you alone.” He lifts his glass to his lips but stops short. “Better yet, answer me one question, and I’ll get everyone to leave you alone.”

“Cite your source, and I’ll answer,” I counter, needing to know who has the big mouth.

“Dude, my mom mentioned it, pretty sure she’s been talking to your mom.” Well, that makes sense. “Jamie may have said something the other night when he stopped at the bar for dinner. And Ryker mentioned the hot nanny last week at the poker night you skipped out on. Even Killian⁠—”

“I never said a word to Killian,” I argue as my head starts to spin. I’m surrounded by gossipy little shits.

The fucker grins. “You didn’t need to. Lilah was at your house when some dude showed up at the nanny’s house, and she said you went ballistic.”

“I didn’t go ballistic, and she has a name,” I mumble but remember the rage that filled me when Camden showed up at Emmie’s house. “What’s your question?”

Maddox tilts his head like one of those creepy fucking dinosaurs from Jurassic World right before they strike. “What’s holding you back? What are you scared of?”

Right for the jugular.

“That was two questions.” I look out at the sea of people below and try to figure out whether I even know the damn answer.

“Two questions—one answer. Same goal. You’ve hooked up since Rosie. But you haven’t dated since Denae showed up at your doorstep pregnant. You didn’t love her. I’m not even sure you liked her. But you haven’t dated since her either, and I’m pretty sure you want to date this girl.”

I look up at the black industrial pipes on the ceiling, frustration growing.

He’s not wrong.

“So what’s holding you back? Because the Mav I know isn’t scared of anything.” He finishes his whiskey in one gulp and signals for a waiter. “You’ve always been fearless, and I’ve always respected that.”

“It’s easy to be fearless when you’re only worried about yourself. But it’s not just me. It hasn’t been for a long damn time. I’ve got Rosie to think about. To worry about. How am I supposed to date and bring someone around Rosie when I know it will devastate my kid when they leave? How am I supposed to trust someone with her heart?” It’s the most honest thought I’ve had since the first time I set eyes on Emmie. “This girl is young. I doubt she’s looking for an instant family.”

“Don’t put words in other people’s mouths, Mav. Don’t assume you know. It never ends well.” When the waiter approaches, he asks for another McCallan.

The waiter points at my beer, but I shake my head. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience, cousin.”

“Maybe . . . I don’t want to see you make my mistakes.” Maddox tilts the ice still in his empty glass, eyes locked on the cubes as he leans over the railing.

I mirror him and stare at the people below. “I don’t know . . . I’ve just got this feeling . . .” I don’t finish my thought because, like it or not, I’m already protective of Emmie, and I don’t want to tell Maddox I think she’s hiding something. I don’t want him to think she’s a bad person, and my cousin is the only man I know less likely to trust someone than I am. Once you lose his trust, you’re not getting that back.

“Take the chance or don’t, Maverick. You’re the one that has to live with the consequences. But take it from me, consequences fucking suck when they’re permanent and age doesn’t matter. Fuck, your parents met when they were twenty-two, and they were making out on the dance floor at Killian and Lilah’s wedding a few weeks ago. They’re still happy, and you know it. It can happen. We’re surrounded by examples of what it looks like when it works out.”

I turn my back on the crowd. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I always did the things first and you followed, and I don’t want you to make my mistakes this time.” The waiter comes over with a fresh drink, and Maddox drops a fifty on his tray and sits his empty glass on top of it. “Regret sucks, man”

I crack my neck and drop my empty bottle on the waiter’s tray.

“You’re like a broken record,” I groan.

“What do you have to lose?” he taunts.

“Rosie’s nanny,” I answer, clipped.

The bastard laughs. “Sounds like the possible good outweighs the bad. If this girl is all sweetness and light, like the guys are saying, she’ll stick around until you find someone else, even if you turn into a giant dick and fuck her over. Hell . . . maybe her brother could set her up with someone else on the team to ease the pain.”

“I fucking hate you,” I tell him as I grab my keys from my pocket.

No fucking way anyone else is touching Emmie Monroe.

I might not be good enough for her, but I’m a selfish bastard, and no one is going to touch her while I’m breathing either.

“I’m okay with that. Go get the girl, Mav.”

“Dumbass,” I groan but leave him behind me as I head for the exit. Not sure I’m ready to get the girl. But I’m ready to stop acting like I don’t fucking want her.

The rain has just started coming down when I pull into the driveway. Rosie’s nightlight illuminates her room, and I smile, picturing her starfished out across her bed before I make a dash for the door. I’m not a running back, but I’m no slouch either, so I’m barely wet when I walk inside and kick off my shoes. Similar to yesterday, the house is dark, but there’s no noise, no light, and no sign of life as I walk through the hall, expecting to find Emmie on the couch.

She’s not there, but the sound of rain is louder coming from the kitchen.

And that’s why . . . The glass double doors leading to the backyard are open, and the warm glow of candlelight is sneaking around the corner.

I think about going upstairs to check on Rosie, but decide since I’m here, I might as well check on Emmie first . . . And why am I even surprised she’s outside in a storm?

Quietly, I step up to the open door and find her exactly where I assumed she’d be. Tucked into the corner of my teak sofa, reading a book by candlelight, safe and dry under the cover of the copper roof. The monitor I still keep in Rosie’s room is on the table next to her, a Kings mug sitting in front of it, with a tea bag dangling down the side. Her hair is tucked behind her ears and spilling over her shoulders and down her arms. She looks peaceful and so damn pretty . . . and man, everything about this just feels right.

Her . . . here.

In my space.

In my life.

With my daughter upstairs, asleep and happy.

It’s like something clicks into place, and my chest tightens and loosens at once.

Emmie jumps when she catches me standing here staring, then relaxes once she realizes it’s me. “Mav?”

Her voice is sleepy and sexy, and I want to hear her say my name like that about a million more times.

“How do you do it, Em?” I cross the patio and sit down on the edge of the couch, next to her.

Careful not to touch.

Not yet.

Not until I’m sure.

“Do what?” she asks, clearly confused. Who can blame her? I’m not giving her a whole lot to go on.

“You always seem so happy. Even now, reading in the dark, in the rain, while you’re watching Rosie so her asshole dad can waste time at a bar. Not many people can pull that off.”

Her shoulders tighten the tiniest bit as she sucks in a quiet breath and closes her eyes. “I choose happy because it’s always the better option. It takes just as much energy to be happy as it does to be angry or sad. Life is too short to waste it on not being happy.” She sets her book down next to the tea and glances at the monitor before pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “But I’m not always happy. Things get to me too. No one can always be happy.”

“La mia luce solare . . .” I murmur, quietly, and her eyes narrow as her lips part.

“What does that mean?”

What the fuck am I doing?

“Why were you upset yesterday, Em?” I force my hands to stay put when I just want to reach for her, especially when the shadow passes in her eyes.

She’s not always happy.

She closes her eyes, and I watch the rise and fall of her chest. Her breasts pressed high and tight against the scoop of her white-ribbed tank. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to know you.” The answer comes so easily, it shocks me.

Her long black lashes flutter as she locks her beautiful green eyes on mine. They’re glowing in the candlelight as a tired expression suddenly takes hold. “No, you don’t. You don’t even like me, Maverick.”

I almost laugh.

I’m an asshole.

“Fuck, it would be a lot easier if I didn’t.” I lift my hands slowly, reaching for her face. Giving her time to pull away if she wants to.

But she doesn’t.

Emmie’s eyes grow wide, and the pulse thrumming at the base of her throat picks up speed once my hands touch her soft skin.

With her face cradled in my rough palms, I drag in a ragged breath. “So much fucking easier.”

My thumb caresses her jaw, and she melts into my hand.

Thank Christ.

“Mav . . .” My name on her lips is almost pained as her forehead drops to mine. “My life isn’t easy.”

“I never needed easy. The only thing I need is honesty, Em. My life is complicated as hell.”

“This will only complicate it more,” she whispers as her hot breath feathers against my skin a split second before she wraps her arms around my neck and climbs into my lap, and fuck, nothing has ever felt more right than this woman’s weight on me. “I’m not sure I can give you what you want.”

“Baby, I’m not even sure what I want beyond wanting you. You’ve consumed me since the day you watched me move in,” I admit, walking a fine line of not pushing her and laying it all out for her.

Emmie pulls back and drags her hands up to my neck and buries her fingers in my hair. “You saw that, huh?”

“Yeah,” I breathe out as the golden flecks in her green eyes seem to darken and melt right in front of me. Fuck, what will they look like when she comes? “That was the first night I jerked off to the image of you burned into my brain.”

If I was worried about scaring her, I just found out she doesn’t scare so easily.

Emmie rocks her perfect, heart-shaped ass against my hard dick and smiles a wicked smile before her lips skim mine. “Oh yeah?” she teases before pulling back, and the shift of her weight puts that ass right where I want it. “What was I doing in that picture?”

“Which time?” I ask as I slide a hand up her bare thigh and under her cotton shorts.

“There’s been more than one time?” She sighs as I squeeze, needing to get closer.

To take more than I should.

I drag my nose up her neck, inhaling her sweet scent, trying to convince myself to slow down, but fuck if I want to. “I swear to God, I’ll never be able to eat another cherry again and not think of you. You’ve ruined me.”

She rocks against my cock again and smiles. “I’m okay with that.”