The Romance Revival(62)

“I guess we have two options here.” I reach out, trapping a strand of hair that’s escaped the bun and running my fingers down the length of it. “Either you continue to berate yourself and feel guilty, or we move forward, with a pledge to do better this time.”

Emery’s eyes melt into relief. “I’m good with that.”

“With feeling guilty indefinitely?” I ask, teasing.

She laughs, and it sounds thick, like she’s fighting tears. “With moving forward. With doing better this time.”

“Good.” I want to lean forward. I want to kiss her so bad it feels like desire is a foreign body lodged in my throat. In a move I’m beginning to recognize, her eyes dip down to my mouth, breath hitching. Slowly, I lean in, setting my mouth on hers. She sighs, sending her hand up the back of my neck and into my hair, parting her lips to slot with mine.

It’s slow and lush, this kiss. It’s different from the one on the beach, where I felt fevered and famished. Here, I’m desperate for her, but this is a kiss of agreement, of commitment, of burgeoning intimacy. I want her with a heat that makes my head spin, but this slower pace we’re taking this time… somehow I know it’s important for us.

This time, it’s a series of smaller kisses forming a larger one. We come together and close off in soft, rhythmic unison. Our tongues barely touch; the graze of her teeth on my lower lip is gentle. This is a conversation, one between our bodies alone.

I want this.

Let’s try.

It matters.

This is too good to throw away.

Slowly, the kiss tapers off, and her eyes flutter open. Her fingers scratch gently against my scalp. “I really love kissing you.”

I smile at her, nodding. “Big same.”

She takes a deep breath and carefully shifts back slightly.

“How are you feeling about your job lately?” I ask.

“My job?” she asks distractedly, foot brushing against my calf.

I hum. “You haven’t been able to work much, but I know you’ll have to at some point. Your douche coworker will be there; you’ll be going back with the knowledge that the compound worked but you won’t be able to tell anyone. Seems pretty heavy, no?”

This seems to pull her out of her daze, and she blinks, her eyes clearing. With a wry laugh, Emery admits, “Well, let’s see. I worry constantly that I’m going to get busted and end up in some supersecret government prison underground with a bunch of evil scientists with no social skills.” She smiles at me to take the weight out of this worry, but I see real concern lingering in her eyes. “I worry, too, that I won’t get busted, and they’ll want me to come back and prove that I’m not really Dr. Frankenstein and work harder than ever.”

Pulling back a little, I study her. “Why does that worry you? Do you not want to go back?”

“I don’t want to go back to who I was before.”

I reach forward, running my thumb along her jaw. She closes her eyes, leaning into the contact like she needs it. And maybe she does.

A thought lands like a brick. “Emery, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to me.”

“You can say that a million times and I probably won’t ever be able to take it to heart.” She reaches up, placing her hand on mine. “And I’m sorry I didn’t let Annie call the police. She wanted us to stop when we were at the lab, and I wouldn’t let her. It was such a selfish decision.”

“For the record, I’m not sorry.”

She exhales, and I wonder how heavy a weight that was to carry around. “I wonder how Betty reacted when the police told her you’re not dead,” she says with a giggle. “Thrilled you’re alive but mad she’s not getting rid of me.”

“Ugh, Betty.” I smile at Emery, exhaling a long breath. “She’s a piece of work.”

“I don’t know. She just really adores you.”

“That’s very sweet,” I say. “But unfortunately, I’m already spoken for.”

Emery smiles, the apples of her cheeks rounding sweetly as she looks at me. “You’re still you.”

“That’s good, I hope?”

“Very good.” She reaches forward, pressing her palm to my cheek. “Luca?”

I hum, staring at her mouth.

“You don’t have to say it back, but I want you to know: I love you very much.”

Happiness blooms behind my breastbone, and I lean into her this time, kissing her palm.





30 EMERY




To only Luca’s surprise, we wake up at sunrise a mess of tangled limbs. I don’t remember a single time we shared a bed that we didn’t end up wrapped around each other, and the feel of his erection pressed to my thigh sends a wave of heat through me so intense I imagine he can feel my fevered skin go warm against his.

He pulls back to look down at me, his cheek pillow-creased, his dark blond hair a crazy nest on his head. Luca smiles sleepily and, for just a second, he looks like he’s back.

Like he remembers me.

I watch in real time as realization washes over him—we’re in bed together, and his morning wood is pressing very firmly into my leg, both of us moving slightly on instinct. His eyes widen in shock, and he jerks his hips away, coughing out a laugh. Unfortunately, we’re mostly on his side, and there isn’t a whole lot of space for him to retreat to. In a flurry of arms and legs, he almost falls off the bed.