Free Denial by Ember Chase Page A

pulling at his shirt. What would he do if I just kissed him?
    “Stop,” he whispers, holding incredibly still. “We need to cool off.”
    I’m left standing alone as he retreats down the hallway. Damn you, Luke. Like you ever operate with any restrictions. Like your lips stay off those of the other women you screw. I’m trying to calm down, trying to remember why I’m here, but it’s not working. I’m just getting angrier.
    Isaac is walking toward me, wearing his serious mask and carrying both of our bags down the hallway. He puts each of them in our respective rooms. I feel like I’m going to cry and he must be able to see it, because his expression softens as he approaches me slowly, reaching out to slide his hand through my hair. I grab his wrist and lock eyes with him. His lips are getting closer and I am dying, screaming, aching to feel then against mine.
    But instead they kiss the tip of my nose. Then my brow. I close my eyes and feel his lips press against both of my eyelids. My cheeks, my chin, my jaw. His hand wraps around the back of my neck and his mouth moves closer to mine, so close, kissing every little piece of skin that’s allowed. My lips start to tremble along with the rest of my body. Why does it feel like this? I’ve never experienced anything like it. I’m on fire.
    His hand makes a fist in my hair and pulls my body away from his. It doesn’t hurt. “Okay, go change before I do something really fucking stupid.”
    Really fucking stupid sounds perfect right now. I let out a comically frustrated growl that makes us both chuckle as we disappear into our rooms. I can’t get changed fast enough, my mind flashing on what he looks like right on the other side of this wall as he takes off his clothes. The shirt he brought me is so soft.
    When we meet up in the hallway, lust threatens to overtake us again but he shrugs it off. I squeal as he lifts me into the air effortlessly, throwing me over his shoulder and giving me a playful smack on the ass. “Help me out here. Be good.”
    “I’m trying,” I giggle.
    He tosses me on the couch and heads in to the kitchen, shooting me a look that tells me I shouldn’t push my luck and follow him.
    “Um, do you want to do the full on date night movie thing, popcorn and all that stuff?” he says. That shy voice tempers my arousal, but it’s replaced by butterflies in my stomach. I need to get them back in their jar.
    “Yeah, sure.” Geez. Now who sounds like they’re at their first dance?
    “How do you feel about brownies?”
    “Probably the same way everyone feels. They’re completely repulsive.”
    Letting out a surprised laugh, his eyebrows shoot up as he heads over to the freezer. “There is no way in hell you’re such a smart ass with him.”
    “No, he hates that about me. He doesn’t like a lot of stuff about me. You probably have a list.”
    “So why are you with him?”
    I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately. “I don’t think date night involves talking about the other guy I’m seeing.”
    “Good point.”
    He flops next to me and hands me the bowl of popcorn. “What’s on it?”
    “Garlic infused butter and parmesan cheese.”
    “This is crazy good,” I mumble with my mouth full.
    “Thanks.” Putting a grin on his face is far more satisfying that it should be. I hope it happens a lot in bed. “It’s probably too late to find anything good on, but we have Netflix.”
    “Too bad we didn’t get here earlier. True Blood was on tonight.”
    “I was hoping you would say that,” he replies. “I didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding like a wuss.”
    A list of my favorite shows pops up on the screen. “You recorded it?” I say with more excitement than intended.
    “It’s not like I’m a fan or anything. I did it for you.”
    “You just met me.”
    “Semantics.” He reaches into the bowl and scoops out a handful.
    “I thought you said something about brownies.”
    “They’re thawing on the