Emma twirls linguine around her fork. She brings it to her mouth. Sucks pasta from the silverware.

Chews.

Swallows.

Licks arrabiata from her lips.

Her cheeks flush as her eyes meet mine. "What?"

"Nothing."

The blush deepens.

It's a routine now. Staring at her, marveling in one of the things I love about her.

Her catching me staring.

Blushing.

Tripping over her words.

She hasn't said it back.

I thought it would bother me, but it doesn't.

I love her.

I love everything about her.

Her obsession with cooking Italian food.

The fact she plays the same dozen albums in rotation.

The way she blushes then stammers something about how I lack taste whenever I point that out.

Her smile.

Her dark eyes.

Her laugh.

There's no greed in my love.

No need for reciprocity.

I love her.

She isn't there yet.

Or she's scared.

Or unsure.

It doesn't matter.

I still love her.

It feels so fucking good.

Hell, even if this goes down in flames, if she decides she'll never love me, if she realizes that I am and always have been a piece of shit—

It will still feel good, loving her.

God damn, I'm so obnoxiously sappy now.

And I don't even care.

"You're still giving me a look." She licks arrabiata from her index finger. The tomato sauce matches the red of her nail. It's more orange. Her paint is more crimson. But it's Emma all the same.

"Thinking about how I'm going to rock your world."

"Rock your world? Really?" She stabs a piece of shrimp. "That's your dirty talk?"

"You want me to get started?"

Her pupils dilate. "Well…" She brings the shrimp to her mouth. Bites off half. Chews. Swallows. "You aren't eating."

I motion to my half empty bowl.

She motions back. "It's half-full."

"You're an optimist."

"Oh my God." Her laugh fills the room. "That's so bad."

"I'm gonna have to turn off the Say Anything."

"And put on what?"

"What kind of music is optimistic?"

"What do you listen to when you aren't being soothed by my amazing jams?"

"My taste isn't nearly so—"

"Good." She finishes her shrimp. "It's not as good as mine."

"I was going to say specific."

"Watch it." She swirls another forkful of pasta.

"Or you won't put out?"

"Oh my God, Hunter." Her cheeks flush. "You're so…"

"That a 'yes, Hunter, please turn on the dirty talk'?"

"If you want to win me over, you should start here." She motions to her speakers as they switch to a Bayside song. "Try 'Thank you for curating the perfect playlist, Emma.'"

"This is new?"

"You can't tell?"

I shake my head. I love that Emma loves this music. Hell, I like it well enough. But not enough to notice the subtle differences.

"You're really blowing this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her lips curl into a smile. "You're going to have to get up and sing if you want to win your way back into my good graces."

"Thought I was supposed to finish dinner."

"That too."

"And dirty talk you."

"You have a busy night."

"You don't want to hear me sing." I take another bite of arrabiata. It's great. Tender, rich, spicy.

"I do." She sets her fork down. Presses her hands together. "Please, Hunter, serenade me. I'll even put on something you like."

"What do I like?"

"That's what I'm trying to ask you."

It's a good question. I've never been into music. I like it, sure. But I've never been the type to curate playlists or surrender to a melody.

Honestly, the stuff Emma plays is my favorite.

It's her.

And that's better than anything.

Still.

I have a few ideas. "I want to surprise you."

She tilts her head to one side, assessing my claim. "I don't know. Access to the speakers… that's a big deal."

"Yeah?"

She nods. "Like giving you a key."

"Where's my key?"

"I'm always here." Her eyes meet mine. They flare with nerves for a second, then they're back to that fire.

She wants to fuck me, but she's scared.

I'm scared too.

I don't want to hurt her.

To make this worse for her.

I have an idea but, fuck, I'm not sure if she's going to go for it.

"You want me to eat first—" I scoop another forkful of pasta. "Or you want me to serenade you."

"I'll give you a few minutes to think."

"Thank fuck. It takes me awhile."

"I know." Her smile spreads a little wider.

It's pure Emma.

That smile that means I love you.

She hasn't said it.

But it's there.

It's in her heart.

She's as in this as I am.

She's as vulnerable as I am.

Sure, her life is a lot more put together. There are a lot more people who want the best for her.

But that only makes her devotion more meaningful.

It would be easy to say I'm only in love with her because I'm lonely and desperate.

It wouldn't be true.

But I can see how this looks from the outside.

This is still so fucked from the outside.

I take another bite. Chew. Swallow.

Gather all the courage I have.

It's not that I'm embarrassed to sing.

I know I'm terrible.

I'm willing to share that with her.

But—"I have to warn you." I pick up a napkin. Wipe my lips. "What's the worst singing you've ever heard?"

"There's been a lot of karaoke over the years. But a technically terrible performance can still be great. It's all about the showmanship."

"Don't have that."

"You do too."

I shake my head.

"Well… If it's not going well, take your shirt off."

"Dean get through to you?"

"No. I just think it's a good look for you."

"Yeah?" I tug my t-shirt a few inches up my stomach.

Her teeth sink into her lip.

Desire spreads over her face.

It's beautiful.

And it's pure.

There's no fear or nerves or apprehension in her eyes.

She's free.

I want that for her.

Even if takes three years and a million make out sessions.

I move to her laptop. Wake it from sleep. Go straight to her streaming service. "You sure you're prepared?"

"A hundred percent."

"One minute." I look up the lyrics. Scan them to make sure I won't stumble. Not that it helps. My abilities as a performer are… lacking.

I made a fool of myself plenty when I was drunk.

I was the life of the fucking party.

Now…

I don't miss many things about that guy.

But I miss his charisma.

That was inside me somewhere.

I just have to find it.

I pull up the song. Take a deep breath. Click play.

Closer by Nine Inch Nails flows through the speakers.

Emma's pupils dilate.

Her blush spreads to her chest.

She recognizes it immediately.

I move into the middle of the room.

I close my eyes.

And I sing about wanting to fuck her like an animal.

It's not exactly what I want to say to her.

Yeah, I do want to fuck her hard and fast.

But I also want it soft and slow.

I want it dirty.

And sweet.

I don't care.

As long as it brings me closer to her.

As long as it's what she wants.

As long as I get to watch pleasure spread over her expression.

Yeah, it's torture kissing her, touching her, making her come without being inside her.

But it's beautiful fucking torture.

I can live with waiting forever if that's what it takes.

It's not like I'm living in a state of blue balls.

She's plenty good at getting me off.

My cock stirs at the thought of her soft red lips.

Her long legs.

Her tight dress.

She's wearing one of those black dresses of hers. It's casual enough for work. Sexy enough to drive me out of my mind.

High hem. Low neckline. Snug waist.

She claps when I finish.

I take a bow.

Then I go straight to her.

I wrap my arms around her, lift her into the air, spin her.

She squeals as she wraps her arms around my neck.

"You forgive me?"

She nods. "This time."

Her fingers dig into my hair.

Slowly, she presses her lips to mine.

It starts softly.

Then it's harder.

Deeper.

Needier.

She doesn't have to say it.

We're done with dinner.

With karaoke.

With pretense.

It's time.

I pull back with a sigh. "You're sure you're ready?" She doesn't have to say it, but I do. I need to hear the words on her lips. To be sure I'm not pushing her.

"I think so."

"I brought something."

"Yeah?" Her eyes light up. With desire. And apprehension.

"I'm not sure you'll like it."

"Try me."

I set her down. "Hold on." This is better as a show, not a tell.

I go to my backpack.

Pull out what I need.

Her eyes go wide as I set the restraints on the table. "Those are…"

"Yeah."

"You want to tie—"

"No. I think you should tie me up."

"Those were just jokes—"

"Yeah, but it's a good idea." I move closer. Bring my hand to her cheek. Stare into her gorgeous dark eyes. "That way, you'll be in control."

"What do I even do?"

"Whatever you want."

She presses her lips together. "I guess I could tie you up and use you like a sex toy?"

"That sounds hot."

"Yeah." She nods. "It kinda does."