I want this. I want them. I want her.
My hand curls into a fist.
But Carson doesn’t release what he considers his. Moving to Pinecrest already proved as much.
If I reach for this, reach for Emily and her pack, I won’t just be putting my heart at risk.
I’ll be painting a target on all of them. I don’t know how he’ll destroy their lives, but I know without question that he’ll find a way.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emily
The thermos burns hot within my palm as I raise my other hand to knock on Leif’s hotel room door, but my knuckles hover inches from the wood, frozen in midair as doubt creeps in.
Last night, I put a stop to his kiss because he was intoxicated, even though my body had screamed at me to seize the moment. It was the right thing to do, which Jared reconfirmed when I told him about it later in our bed.
But what if Leif hates himself this morning and hates me for not going with the flow after he initiated?
I shift my weight, the insulated bag I carry swinging. The hallway carpet muffles my nervous shuffling.
What if he’s still asleep? What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if stopping last night was the right decision, but coming here this morning is the wrong one?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I knock, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.
A thump sounds from inside the room, followed by soft footsteps, the chain sliding, and the lock disengaging.
The door swings open, and my prepared greeting dissolves on my tongue.
Leif stands before me, hair mussed from sleep, bare-chested with only a pair of gray lounge pants hanging off his hip bones. The smooth planes of his torso catch the light from the hallway, highlighting the subtle definition of muscle underneath pale skin. A thin trail of mauve hair disappears beneath his waistband, drawing my eye downward before I catch myself.
“Emily,” he says in surprise.
“I brought breakfast,” I blurt, lifting the bag and thermos like offerings. “Biscuits and gravy. And coffee. I should have called first, but I wanted to talk about last?—”
His hand shoots out, fingers curling around the nape of my neck with unexpected strength. His palm cups my skull, warm and certain as he pulls me toward him.
His mouth covers mine with none of the hesitation or gentleness I would have expected. Instead, his hungry lips part mine, demanding a response I’m only too eager to give.
The bag slips from my fingers. The thermos hits the carpet with a muted thud. My hands find his waist, skin hot beneath my palms as I step into the circle of his arms. The scent of sleep-warm skin and sun-warmed cedar floods my senses, drawing me in further.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open to him with a soft sound caught between a sigh and a moan. One of his hands slides down my back to pull me closer, our bodies flush from chest to thigh.
As suddenly as it began, Leif breaks the kiss, pulling back far enough to meet my gaze. His breath comes quick and shallow, matching my own.
“I’m sober,” he says, rough with desire. “And I still want you.”
Heat blooms beneath my skin. “I still want you, too.”
His thumb traces my lower lip. “We need to talk about this. About what it means. But first—” He pauses and swallows. “Jared. Is he?—”
“He knows I’m here,” I say. “We’ve talked about this.”
“And he’s okay with it? With us?”
I nod, my heart racing at what we’re about to do. “More than okay. He’s been encouraging me to be more open with my desires.”
Leif studies me, searching for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he bends to retrieve the fallen food, setting it on the desk beside the door. His movements are controlled, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest betrays his excitement.