“Hey,” she said, walking in. “Got some coffee?”
“Not yet.”
She gave me a weird look. “What happened to you? No coffee in the morning?”
“I just got up.”
“Wow. You slept in.”
Mir and I were both early risers.
“It was a late night,” I said, feeling slightly pleased about the reason.
Grunting, she went over to grab the TV remote.
“Hey, don’t turn on the TV,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Emily’s sleeping.”
She blinked slowly once, then put both hands over her mouth. “You slept with her?”
I gave her a look reserved for a particularly dim child. “Yesss. Both of us consenting adults consented to sex.”
Mir covered her eyes. “Oh my God. I so do not want to hear about your sex life.”
“Hey, now it’s your favorite author’s sex life, too.”
Her face scrunched even worse. “That doesn’t make it better! But wait… Does this mean I get to read her books before other people?”
“I make no promises. She hasn’t let me read her latest book either,” I said, not wanting Mir to bug Emily about that. I honestly had no idea what Emily’s process was, but she shouldn’t have to show her stories to anybody until she was ready. And part of me wanted to be the first to read her new books, except maybe for her editor.
“Oh. Well. I’ll figure out an angle. I got time…” Mir suddenly studied me, her gaze flinty. “Did you tell her you don’t live here? That you have to leave soon? You have both of your expectations about this relationship clear, right?”
“Jesus, Mir. It’s not a job position.”
“I’m pretty sure I know what kind of position it is.”
I had to laugh. “You’re acting like I took advantage of some high school girl or something. Emily’s a romance author, for God’s sake! She knows what we’re doing.”
“But you figured out how not to break her heart, right? I mean, she isn’t one of your groupies.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” And for making me sound like an asshole. Breaking hearts was what Dev did, not me. I resented Mir’s narrow-eyed gaze. Just whose sister was she? She wasn’t getting any more backstage passes, damn it.
“It’s important. One of my favorite romance writers never finished her series because her husband left her. I don’t want that to happen to Emma Grant. I mean, Emily.”
I paused for a second. I hadn’t considered what a breakup might do to Emily’s mindset or her career. Dev had been out of control after the things went south with Ashley. On the other hand, Ashley cheated on him, and I had no intention of cheating on Emily or doing anything to hurt her.
I always went into a relationship with a positive outlook. What was the point, otherwise? So I hoped that things worked out between me and Emily, but if they didn’t… Well, we could end it amicably. We were both adults.
But why was Mir acting like it was inevitable I would screw something up? Didn’t she know me better than that?
“First of all, I’m not her husband. Second, she isn’t writing a series. So you won’t be left hanging,” I pointed out sarcastically, too annoyed to let Mir know about my decision to ask Emily to come with me to Dallas. Besides, Mir didn’t get to hear about it before Emily.
“Didn’t you see her shirt from yesterday? I don’t want her to write angsty stuff. I already have my favorite angst romance authors.”
“Mir, not everything’s about you and what you like to read. It’s about who I want to be with, and who Emily wants to be with. And she’s been with other men before, okay? She kept writing her books when they broke up, so I’m sure she isn’t going to quit writing, regardless of what happens. She’ll be fine.” But even as I said it, I was vaguely annoyed. I didn’t want to think about Emily’s previous boyfriends. I also didn’t want to think about what would happen if Emily and I broke up… And I most certainly didn’t want to imagine how incredibly fine she was going to be on her own again.
For some bizarre reason, I wanted her to feel a little sad. At least wistful. Regretful. Realize she’d never have a better stud in the sack again.
It was immature as hell, but I couldn’t will myself not to feel those things. Damn it.
“Fine,” Mir said. “I’m just going to have some ice cream,” she groused, walking past me to the freezer and opening the door violently, like she was taking it out on the poor appliance. “You don’t have a single tub of Bouncy Bare Monkeys?”
Because Emily has all of them. And I had already eaten the two tubs she’d given me, which were extra delicious. But I didn’t tell Mir that. “Why don’t you go to Sunny’s and see?”
“Fine, fine,” she said, and left with her key.
Knowing her, it’d take at least an hour or two to finish the ice cream run because she’d want to say hello and gossip with everyone. She was one of the most social people I knew.
I drank some water, then stared out the windows over the kitchen sink. I didn’t like what Mir had insinuated—that I would break Emily’s heart or that I’d hurt her so badly that she wouldn’t be able to write. My sister should know me better than that.
But my gut twisted with something that felt like anxiety, as I wondered what Emily thought of me…and if she shared the same opinion as Mir.
Chapter Thirty
Emily
I blinked, then slowly turned and stared at the unfamiliar pale green ceiling. The walls were the same color. And the sheets were soft cream. The other side of the bed was cool to the touch. Killian must’ve gotten up. He was such a morning person. Cheery, too. Those weren’t huge pluses in my book. People should hate getting up in the morning and be grouchy until they’d had at least two coffees.
But he made a great breakfast. And he was fabulous in bed. On balance, that more than made up for the cheery early-riser thingy.
Since my bladder was declaring a state of emergency, I used the bathroom, then rinsed my mouth with some minty mouthwash that was on the counter. The mirror showed a slightly reddish mark on my collarbone, where Killian had bitten me last night. My cheeks flushed. Holy shit. I had sex with a rock star.
Dazed, I went back to bed and plopped down. My face fell on the pillow I’d hugged last night. It smelled like Killian. I couldn’t believe how hot I’d been for him, how madly I’d craved his body. But I didn’t regret any of it.
For the first time in my life, I’d experienced the kind of sex I’d only read and written about in romance novels. The kind that lasted literally all night long with a guy whose stamina put me in awe. And the orgasms…
No way I could remember them all. All I knew was that I’d come a lot, and all of them had been good—so, so good.
No wonder Killian had been annoyed when I said ten minutes.
I sighed, shivering with a languid soreness and remembered pleasure, but my head said I needed to snap out of that and think about what was next. After all, I couldn’t stay in bed forever, and Killian and I did have a life outside of the bedroom.