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Back The Companion Project Save as PDF
Chapters (89)
  1. Dedication
  2. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  3. ONE
  4. HENRY
  5. TWO
  6. EMMA
  7. THREE
  8. HENRY
  9. FOUR
  10. EMMA
  11. FIVE
  12. EMMA
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. HENRY
  16. EIGHT
  17. NINE
  18. TEN
  19. HENRY
  20. ELEVEN
  21. TWELVE
  22. EMMA
  23. THIRTEEN
  24. HENRY
  25. FOURTEEN
  26. HENRY
  27. FIFTEEN
  28. SIXTEEN
  29. EMMA
  30. SEVENTEEN
  31. HENRY
  32. EIGHTEEN
  33. HENRY
  34. NINETEEN
  35. HENRY
  36. TWENTY
  37. TWENTY-ONE
  38. EMMA
  39. TWENTY-TWO
  40. EMMA
  41. TWENTY-THREE
  42. HENRY
  43. TWENTY-FOUR
  44. EMMA
  45. TWENTY-FIVE
  46. EMMA
  47. TWENTY-SIX
  48. EMMA
  49. TWENTY-SEVEN
  50. HENRY
  51. TWENTY-EIGHT
  52. EMMA
  53. TWENTY-NINE
  54. HENRY
  55. THIRTY
  56. HENRY
  57. THIRTY-ONE
  58. HENRY
  59. THIRTY-TWO
  60. EMMA
  61. THIRTY-THREE
  62. HENRY
  63. THIRTY-FOUR
  64. EMMA
  65. THIRTY-FIVE
  66. EMMA
  67. THIRTY-SIX
  68. HENRY
  69. THIRTY-SEVEN
  70. EMMA
  71. THIRTY-EIGHT
  72. HENRY
  73. THIRTY-NINE
  74. HENRY
  75. FORTY
  76. EMMA
  77. FORTY-ONE
  78. HENRY
  79. FORTY-TWO
  80. FORTY-THREE
  81. EMMA
  82. FORTY-FOUR
  83. EMMA
  84. FORTY-FIVE
  85. HENRY
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. ALSO BY CHELSEA CURTO
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I guess that’s the sign that one of us needs to make a move and we’re both unsure how. I’d never coerce him into doing something, but I’m going to make damn sure I make it difficult for him to hold back tonight.

TWENTY-NINE

HENRY

“Emma! Five minute warning!” I call through the bathroom door, knocking on it twice to get her attention. She’s been locked inside for almost forty-five minutes, and I’m worrying. I know she’s not having second thoughts; she was bopping around the bedroom before she disappeared behind the barrier, wearing a smile I couldn’t quite place. Since she closed the door, she’s been suspiciously quiet.

What the hell is she up to?

“One more minute!” Her voice is muffled and I walk to the bed, putting on my suit jacket and straightening my tie. As I button my blazer, I stare at the bed, unable to stop the grin that forms when I think back to this morning.

Waking up next to Emma, I got a glimpse of what every day could look like. Her messy hair and skin pressed against mine. Her hands on my body, coaxing me awake. I’ve been recklessly indulgent so far, seeing exactly how close to the dangerous ledge I can teeter with her before we crash to the ground. This morning I slipped, hanging on to the precipice with a single hand, and it’s about time I reel back. If not, I really won’t be able to stop.

And then there are her words.

Pretending.

Not real.

How can I tell her I want to kiss her senseless? Can I tell her how good it would be if I wasn’t pretending? How badly I want to press her against a wall and chant not real, not real into her ear, again and again, while my hand travels down the slope of her neck, dips into her dress, and pinches her nipples that lie beneath luxurious fabric, delighting when she begs for more and asks to make her mine?

I’m about to send a text to the guys, asking if I should just go for it already, when I hear a throat clear from behind me. I turn around, coming face to face with Emma who looks…

Un-fucking-believable.

Holy shit.

Her blonde hair is curled, falling below her shoulders in soft waves, pinned off to the side and away from her face. She’s wearing a black cocktail dress cut low enough to display a tease of tasteful cleavage I’ve never seen from her before. The article of clothing hits above her knee, a small, tantalizing slit creeping up her thigh.

On her feet?

Blood-red stiletto heels that elongate her half-bared legs. She’s sin incarnate, brought here to utterly wreck me. I welcome her with open arms, a willing servant at her mercy.

She’s a sight for sore eyes.