Emma's eyes go wide as she steps inside the third apartment.

Hard to blame her.

This place is perfect.

Wide, open living room. Huge windows. Shiny kitchen.

Real estate agent in a fashionable striped dress.

She adopts a perfect customer service smile as she extends her hand. "Sandy Lovejoy."

Emma shakes and introduces herself.

I do the same.

"I love when couples tour together." She presses her hands together. "It's so sweet."

Emma raises a brow play along?

I shouldn't.

I should draw a line in the sand now.

Tell her it isn't ever happening.

That I'm not thinking about her lush thighs.

Or her soft lips.

Or her flushed cheeks.

It's in the air.

She wants me.

I want her.

The only thing in the way of our bodies connecting is me.

With every minute, it seems less and less sensible.

I need to protect her, yeah.

But maybe I'm all wrong about the how.

She lights up around me.

Opens up to me.

Maybe this is what's best for her.

Maybe I'm punishing myself, telling her to stay away.

Or maybe my self-destructive steak has taken over my brain.

Hard to say.

"Hunter, sweetie." Emma wraps her arms around me. Shoots me a look. I gave you a chance to say no. "Is it that obvious?"

Sandy laughs. "I can always tell."

Emma beams with victory. "Hunter and I said we wouldn't be one of those couples." She turns to me with wide eyes. "But, sometimes, I just can't contain myself." Emma stares into my eyes like she's madly in love with me. "You feel like that too, baby?"

My heart pounds against my chest.

My limbs get light.

My balls tighten.

Her affection feels real.

I want to believe that.

I want to believe I deserve her.

"He's shy," she stage whispers to Sandy. "I love the shy ones, don't you?"

"There's something about them." Sandy nods. "Let me show you to the bedroom."

"Oh." Emma winks. "Yes, please."

We follow Sandy down the hall.

The bedroom is as nice as the rest of the apartment. Plenty of space. Beige carpet. White walls. Huge windows looking out on the picture-perfect street.

Fuck, that's a lot of natural light.

And Emma…

She looks like an angel, surrounded in the soft glow.

It's wrong for her.

But right all the same.

I'm so fixed on her I barely notice the thick slice of ocean in the view.

It's beautiful. Deep. Peaceful.

I've never appreciated living in Southern California. It was a fact of life, not a slice of paradise. But when I'm with Emma…

I see the beauty in the bright sky, the blooming flowers, the crashing waves.

Her dark eyes.

Her lush lips.

Her long legs.

That skirt is short.

And her shoes are tall.

She has two inches on me in those wedges.

Maybe it should bother me, but it doesn't.

"Tell me—" the real estate agent moves into the hallway and motions for us to follow. "How did you two meet?"

We follow her into the other bedroom.

It's a little bigger, with a mirrored closet door and a view of the pool.

Emma goes straight to the window.

Stares at the aqua water like it's everything she wants. "There's a pool?"

"Yes." The agent launches into a discussion of the pool's hours and awesomeness.

Emma's gaze stays on the water as she nods along.

My head fills with thoughts of her in a tiny black bikini. Lying on a pool chair. Beckoning me to come closer.

My heart thuds.

My cock stirs.

I need to strip her out of that skirt.

I need to dive between her legs.

I need to bury myself in her.

No pretenses. No bullshit. No excuses.

Just the two of us connecting.

I've never had that.

I want that so fucking badly.

Not some abstract concept of intimacy.

A connection with Emma.

"Hello." Someone knocks on the apartment's front door. "Is this the open house?"

"Yes, one moment!" Sandy calls to the door. She turns to us with a serene smile and hands an application to Emma. "You'd be a lovely addition to the building."

"Thank you." Emma beams.

"Hello?" The prospective tenant calls.

"Sorry, I better go." Sandy moves into the main room and launches into a speech about the apartment.

"Think she uses that line on everyone?" I ask.

Emma shakes her head. "I'm adorable."

She is, but—"I'm surprised you can admit that."

"Should I deny it?" She pulls a pen from her purse. "Come here."

I arch a brow.

"I'm going to use your back."

"Use the floor."

She presses her foot into the carpet. "Your back is harder."

Probably true, but hearing the word hard on her lips…

Not good for mission don't touch Emma.

Not that it's going well.

That voice in my head, the one that's supposed to tell me that this is a bad idea, is silent.

But I can't tell if that's because my cock has it gagged and bound in the closet.

Or if it’s because I'm finally capable of seeing myself as more than a piece of shit.

"What do I get in return?" I tease her back. Keep it light. Keep my head away from thoughts of her groaning fuck, you're hard.

All right, I don't manage the latter.

But I do try.

"You get a reason to complain." She laughs. "Exactly what you always wanted."

"You sure about this place?"

"Yeah." Emma nods to the vent above her. "Feel that." She leans her head back, thrusting her chest into the air. "Sweet, sweet air-conditioning."

It is a rarity around here.

But, fuck, that's not where my head is going.

Her outfit is normal. Casual. Something stretchy and comfortable.

And tight as hell.

She looks so fucking good in the soft fabric.

Like the tough as nails woman who can handle anything.

Even a guy who can barely articulate what's in his head.

"What about your roommate?" I ask.

Her lips press together. "Good point." She fishes for her cell. "We need to send photos."

"The listing—"

"Isn't enough. We need amateur stuff."

I raise a brow.

She chuckles. "It is the best."

"Feel like I've heard that somewhere."

"Yeah, who is it that mentions it ten times a day?"

"You, probably," I say.

Her laugh gets louder. "You know me. Can't stop talking about porn." She hands her phone to me.

I open her camera app.

Frame the image the best I can.

I don't know a lot about photography, but I do know composition.

Click, click.

Emma shakes her head. "I didn't look cute."

"Yeah, you did."

"No. I need a pose. Count me down."

I arch a brow.

"You know, three, two, one."

"Okay…"

She turns. Places her hand on her hip. Blows the camera a kiss.

Fuck, it's adorable.

Sassy. Sweet. Emma.

"Three, two, one." Click.

"Take a few. So I have options."

"You think your best friend cares if you look cute?"

"I asked for pictures, not sass."

"You didn't specify that."

She laughs. "You're usually good at following instructions."

I raise a brow.

"Oh my God, stop with that."

"I didn't say anything."

"You said everything." She moves to the other side of the room and poses.

Click, click. "No idea what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh."

We move into the hallway.

Click, click.

"Why are you so obsessed with that anyway?" she asks. "Do you have a secret desire to be tied up?"

No.

I miss the freedom that came with letting go of control.

But I don't miss the act itself.

Whenever I sobered up, I hated that feeling of blankness. Of not knowing what I'd done. Or why I'd done it.

"I just think you'd look good in leather boots," I say.

"Well, obviously." She hikes her skirt up her thigh. "I have the legs for it."

Fuck, does she.

"The thing is"—she leads us into the main room—"I look good in everything."

"And modest too."

"Thank you." She stretches her arms wide. Smiles.

Click, click. "How do you do it?"

"It's hard. I have to practice humility every day. But I'm so good at it."

"Amazing."

"I know, right?"

I double over with a full-blown belly laugh.

She does that to me.

Gets me like no one else does.

Hits me somewhere no one else reaches.

I need more of her.

If that really is what she wants—

If it really is what's best for her—

"Okay. I'll get the bathroom." Her fingers brush mine as she takes my phone. She skips to the room. Snaps a few photos. Skips back. "You think it will help our odds if we make a show of kissing goodbye?"

"Why would we kiss goodbye if we're leaving together?"

"Yeah, true." Disappointment flares in her eyes. It's a quick thing. A second. Then she's all smiles. "We could make out. Let the happiness of finding a new place overtake us."

"We could?" I raise a brow.

She moves closer enough to whisper. "Sandy is really into us."

"You think she wants to watch?"

"She's dying to watch." Her fingers brush my hair. My ear. My neck. "But I'm only willing to give her a hint of a show."

"No penetration?"

Her fingers curl into my hip. "Definitely not."

"Not sure I can agree."

"Don't be such a guy."

"Oh?"

She nods. "There are plenty of other ways to have sex."

"Go on."

"I'm just saying. It's not all about penetration."

"Yeah?"

She pulls back enough to look me in the eyes.

Only she can't.

She's blushing.

Staring at her shoes.

"I… Uh… it's getting late, yeah?" She slides her cell into her purse. "Maybe we should grab lunch before work."

"Sure."

"Good."

"But, Em—"

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna have to explain this whole 'it's not all about penetration' thing to me."

Her smile gets wicked. "Use your imagination."

Already there.

We drive to the shop. Grab tacos. Then coffee.

Emma's hand brushes mine as we walk back.

We're already late.

But I can't bring myself to rush.

It feels too good doing nothing with her.

Doing everything with her.

This is something off a postcard.

Blue sky. Palm trees. Gorgeous brunette staring at me like I'm her favorite thing in the universe.

She's already my favorite thing in the universe.

Maybe I'm still a mess.

But if she's looking at me like this, I can't be all that bad.

This can't be that terrible of an idea.

We walk the last block.

Stop in front of the sandwich shop next door.

Out of view of Inked Heart's windows.

"Oh." Her cheeks flush. "I still haven't sent those pictures." She pulls out her cell. Opens the camera app. Shows me the screen. "Which do you think?"

"There nudes I should know about?"

"You already had my camera."

"Wasn't looking."

"No, you perv."

"I asked to respect your privacy."

"Or so you could know to look."

I shake my head.

She nods.

I force my eyes to the cell. Select a few photos. They aren't the ones that capture the apartment best.

They're the ones that capture her the best.

She's beautiful, bright, vibrant.

I love seeing this side of her.

Don't get me wrong. I like pissed, difficult Emma too.

But seeing her joy—

Fuck, this is better than any bourbon.

Than anything.

My fingers brush hers as I hand the phone back.

She taps the screen a few times.

Hits send.

Swallows hard. "Hunter, I…"

"We're late."

"I know." She slides her cell into her back pocket.

I move closer.

Her fingers brush my hip. My side. My shoulder.

I bring my hand to her cheek.

Maybe I'm out of my fucking mind.

Maybe I'm the most self-destructive idiot on the planet.

Right now, I don't care.

My eyelids flutter closed.

I lean in.

Bring my lips to hers.

She kisses back hard.

Like she needs this as badly as I do.

I'm ready to kiss her forever.

But this familiar voice interrupts.

She jumps back.

Turns to Dean—he's standing outside the door, shaking his head in some mix of you're ridiculous and about time.

"I was just." She clears her throat. "Mind your own business."

He holds up his hands I'd never.

Her eyes flit to me. "I, um, we really are late."

"Yeah."

"I…" She grabs my wrist. Kisses me again. Quickly. Then she turns and rushes into the shop.

Dean and I watch her get behind the counter.

He turns to me, apprehension filling his blue eyes. "You know what you're doing?"

No.

But I'm starting to figure it out.