Or maybe it’s exactly what I mean.

She blinks before moving toward the bench in the middle of the room, taking a seat, propping back on her palms, and crossing her legs.

Pure attitude.

“Wow. Straight to it, huh?”

“Just curious,” I reply with an unaffected shrug. “Call it professional interest. One coworker to another.”

“Coworkers?” She chuckles, crossing her arms. “You been kissing Teri and asking her about her dates too?”

“I would never.”

“Oh, don’t go acting all holier-than-thou on me now. You know damn well I didn’t want to go on that date. But it’s for the best, right?”

“No.” I say, my voice low. “It is definitely not for the best. Not for me.”

Her brows lift. “You all but told me nothing would ever happen between us. Even after the show. You want me. You don’t want me. Make up your fucking mind.”

“You think I don’t want you?” I laugh, dark and humorless. I told her that. Hell, I even thought I meant it. But that was before I realized I can’t stay away from her.

Her chest heaves as I push off the doorframe to prowl toward her.

“Because if you do,” I say, coming to a stop and towering over her. “Then you’re not paying attention.”

She tries to look unaffected, but I see it—the hitch in her breath, the way her eyes drop to my mouth before snapping back up. “Are you jealous, Emmett?”

My fingers dust over her neck, thumb under her jaw, tipping her face up. “I am jealous. I’m losing my goddamn mind over you. And you’re traipsing around in these tight fucking jeans with a permanent smile on your face like you weren’t out all night with some country club loser who got the chance I only dream of getting with you.”

Her eyes lock on mine, wide and dark. “Then do something about it.”

And that’s all it takes to break whatever leash I’ve been trying—and failing—to keep on myself.

My hands drop suddenly, gripping her hips and tugging her closer.

“You went on a date, and I fucking hate that,” I say, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Did he touch you like this?” I drag my teeth over her jaw, letting one hand slip into her back pocket to give her round ass a possessive squeeze.

Her breath catches, but she doesn’t answer. Her silence makes me feel more desperate. More untethered.

I drop to my knees in front of her, needing to look her in the eye. Needing to know. To see. To read her features.

Her cheeks are pink, and her breathing is labored. She stares back at me, need simmering in her dark eyes.

“Did he make you feel like this?” I flick open the button at the top of her jeans before gripping her hip, pushing her boundaries just to see how she’ll react.

She still doesn’t answer, but she lifts one hand—not breaking eye contact—as she reaches down and unzips her pants.

“That’s what I thought,” I mutter roughly, and then I shoot forward, pulling her face to mine as I kiss her—hard, hungry, like I’m trying to erase any trace of him she might still be carrying.

She returns the kiss, no hesitation, no holding back. Her hands fist in my shirt, tugging, demanding.

Suddenly frantic, I turn us, lying her down the length of the bench in one smooth motion.

She makes a surprised noise against my lips when I move over her, but her legs wrap around my hips on instinct.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Taking you. Tasting you. It’s been fucking torture,” I mutter against her neck. “Every time you laugh, every time you shoot me one of those snarky looks, when you bite that goddamn lip.”

She grabs my jaw. “That’s what I spent all last night thinking about. In my bed. Alone.”

I’m relieved beyond what I’ve ever felt before. I knew he didn’t stand a chance, but I needed to hear it all the same.

I needed to hear her say it. That she went home alone. That she thought about this. About me.

Us.

“I think you get off on making me—”

“Emmett.” She grabs my jaw. “Did you storm in here and lock the door just to talk? Stop thinking.”

Then she pulls me back to her mouth, kissing me like she wants to bruise me with it. Her needy moans urge me on.

My hands are everywhere—under her shirt, tracing the soft line of her waist, removing her sandals, tugging at her jeans until she lifts her hips and finally lets me pull them down.

“We don’t have long, but I’m not leaving this fucking room without knowing how you taste,” I growl, getting rid of her pants as efficiently as possible.

“I thought we were staying away from each other?” she murmurs, clearly just as torn as I am. Both of us ready to break every rule we laid out for each other that night in the diner.

I groan when I see her plain white cotton thong. It makes her look far too innocent for all the things I want to do to her.

“This can be a onetime thing. Just to… take the edge off.”

“Yeah. Okay. Definitely. Just to take the edge off.” Her eyes are glassy as she pants out her agreement.

I kneel on the simple plywood floor at the end of the bench and pull her to the edge, one hand gripping each thigh as I spread her. Pausing, I stare for several beats, any intelligent thoughts shriveling up and dying at the sight before me.

“Fuck, Jules. Looking like this should be illegal.”

“Taking this long should be illegal.”

“Mouthy,” I mutter as I reach forward and hook my fingers in the gusset of her underwear to expose her.

She hisses when the cool air hits her cunt. It makes her clench.

“Fuck. Fuck. You want it bad, don’t you?”

“Emmett—”

I cut her off by pressing my fingertips into the fabric and yanking roughly. My patience is shot, and I want her riding my face as soon as possible. I rip her panties over toned thighs and shove them into my pocket before tugging her closer and dropping my head to take one long, firm lick.

She cries out, and it’s fucking music to my ears.

“Yes, Jules?” I smile against her pussy. “Was there something you wanted to say to me?”

“I…” she trails off when I go back in, sucking hard once on her clit.

“You’re going to keep your legs spread and let me enjoy myself?”

“Fuck you,” she breathes. I grin up at her as she props herself on her elbows and gazes down at me, pure dazed lust on her face.

“Maybe one day. But not today.”

Then I dive in, pulling out every stop to make her feel good and forget about every other man who has ever existed.

I spread her with my hands, thumbs trailing up over her lips, tongue trailing close behind. She tastes like heaven, and the sounds she makes drive me wild.

When I spear her with my tongue, her body bucks against the intrusion and she murmurs my name, voice thick, fingers weaving into my hair.

She grinds against my face with reckless abandon. “Emmett, yes.”

“Quiet, doll,” I murmur against her tender flesh. “They’re filming just outside.” I move my mouth back up to her clit and slip two fingers inside to fill her up the way I know she needs.

Julia gasps, and I’m pretty sure it’s partially from the sensation and partially from the realization that we are sneaking around—flying dangerously close to the sun.

Her words transform into wordless moans, and I can feel from the tautness in her body that she’s trying desperately to keep quiet.

And I don’t make it easy for her. I work her hard. Fucking her with my fingers and feeling her go so warm and wet around me. Tasting her arousal as she makes a mess for me. Watching every twitch of her muscles. Storing away every needy sound she makes so that I can play this soundtrack in my head when I’m alone later and fucking my fist while thinking of her.

“You going to come for me, Jules?” I taunt while trailing my mouth over her inner thigh, adding a third finger and watching her stretch for me.

“Yes. Fuck. Please. Please don’t stop.” Her quiet voice brims with tension, and her skin hums beneath me as I slip a palm up the underside of her leg, spreading her wider before doubling my efforts.