Fever Dream (Emerald Lake, #1)(95)

I OPEN MY EYES to Julia pressed against me, and I decide that it’s my favorite way to wake up.

Her head on my chest, her arm slung over my ribs, and her legs tangled with mine. Merged against each other as warm summer light filters through the slatted blinds in harsh lines.

She’s warm and tan. The lines from her tank top straps crest over her shoulder and leave the perfect swooping line on the tops of her breasts. Her hair is curly and loose—just the way I like it.

Visions of last night hit me in flashes. Her bent over, her spine stretched before me. Her riding me, breasts bouncing, lips plush and full after sucking my cock like her life depended on it.

I feel like a teenager again. Like everything we’ve done together is a first.

It is in a way, seeing as how I’ve never felt like this before.

I stroke her hair, reveling in knowing that it’s Sunday, which means we have nowhere to be—no faking it for the cameras. Just this. Soaking her up. The feel of her chest pressing against my side as she inhales. Her breath fanning across my chest as she exhales. Her heart beating sure and even.

It thuds in time with my own, and I reach for her wrist, pressing my fingers against her pulse point. I can’t explain why, other than there’s something about feeling how alive she is that grounds me.

It tells me this is real and that she’s actually here.

“You having second thoughts?” she mumbles, catching me checking her pulse like a total weirdo. “Wishing I were dead so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the morning after?”

I chuckle and pull her tighter. “I’m just… I don’t know. Making sure you’re real?”

The apple of her cheek pops as she smiles against me. “I am real, and I am alive even though I’m pretty sure you tried to fuck me to death last night.”

“Jules, babe, you kept saying faster. All I was trying to do was keep you happy. Live up to the reputation. Keep the dream alive.”

She snorts a laugh, kissing my chest as I drag her so that she’s laid out right on top of me.

“Ah, yes, the man, the myth, the legend. He’ll fuck you so hard you’ll need your pulse checked.”

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you. Lying here acting like you weren’t the one begging for it last night.”

She shrugs. “It was okay.”

I nip at her neck playfully. “Keep running that mouth and I’ll find something better for you to do with it.”

She laughs, body rumbling against mine. “Unless you’re putting food in my mouth, I’m not interested.”

I trail a hand up her side, smiling at the ceiling. Mostly marveling at how someone like me ended up here with someone like her.

So fucking lucky.

When my fingers hit her ribs, she jolts, letting out a light, sleepy giggle. And I don’t know what comes over me, but I do it again.

“Emmett,” she squeals, trying to grab my hand.

But I can’t help myself. I’m happy. She’s got me feeling less serious than usual.

I tickle her again, eliciting another squeal as she writhes and tries to get off me.

“Emmett Brandt, you watch your fucking hands!”

“Oh, I’ll watch them all right. Watch them go right here.” I flip us, leaning over her and going straight for her armpits.

She laughs. She gasps. I watch the tip of her nose wiggle. A dimple pops on her cheek as I tickle her. Her breathless giggles turn to hysterical cackles.

On one hand, we’re both acting like children. On the other, this is perfect.

She’s fucking beautiful. Laughing in my bed with nowhere to go.

“Emmett, Emmett, Emmett!” She twists around, fighting me off—but not really. It’s almost as though she’s reveling in the feeling. The bliss, the attention, the thrill. And I am too. When I finally see a tear streak from the corner of her eye, I stop and kiss it away before withdrawing.

“How is that? Is it better being tickled to death than fucked to death?”

“No.” She laughs the word. “Being fucked to death is officially one of my favorite things to do now. In fact, I’d like to do it again, but I need to eat.”

It’s Sunday morning, which means I know exactly what to do with her. I push up out of bed before lifting her over my shoulder in a farmer carry that sets her back to squealing.

Then I land a firm slap on her ass and walk us both to the bathroom. “Can’t have my girl going hungry,” I murmur, nipping at her neck again as I back her into the shower. “Let’s wash you up before I take you to the farmhouse for a chaotic Brandt family breakfast.”



* * *



With Catherine’s help, Julia escapes through the back door, headed to where she parked her car at the base of Prickle Point. At the front door, I have a quick chat with Catherine. She puts on a hell of a show, admitting that she feels like I pay more attention to Evelyn than her. She points out that it’s unfair Evelyn’s had more one-on-one dates when she and I clearly have such a deep connection.

We’re both smiling as we talk, but it’s not because what either of us is saying is true. It’s because we’re both in on the joke.

I kind of admire the way this woman can tell a bald-faced lie while wearing a frilly pink dress and sporting perfectly curled blond hair.