Final Call (Call #2)(17)
Author: Emma Hart

I lay it on the bed while I change my underwear and roll some stockings up my legs. With a rub of my temples, I push the Italian memory aside, slink into the tight material, and look in the mirror.

It hugs my body perfectly, and I can imagine the look on his face when he sees it. It’ll be somewhere between pleasure and anguish, delight and torture.

Exactly what I’m going for.

I apply my makeup and paint red onto my lips. The shade matches the heeled pumps peeking at me from my shoe rack in the closet, and I slide my feet into them easily. My toes wriggle to get my feet comfortable, and I stand.

Aaron’s standing at the door to my lingerie room, and I bite the inside of my lip. Shit. Should have closed the door…

“Like what you see?” I ask, repeating his words from earlier.

“Do you have stock in the lingerie business?” he looks at me.

“No, but I probably should.” I look in my room proudly.

“You’ve worn all of this?”

“Not all of it. Some still have the tags. Sometimes it didn’t fit the description of the client’s needs. A lot I bought because I liked it.”

He’s silent for a long moment. His eyes flick across the room, and when I think he’s about to walk away, he steps inside. “If I know anything about you, I’ll bet you have it all organized. Old and new separate. Correct?”

“Uh, yes.” Control freak, I am.

He runs his hand across the hangers until he reaches a midway point. After flicking a couple of sets back and forth, he grabs the worn things and lifts the hangers from the rails. They clatter to the floor, and he does the same to the baby dolls and other outfits.

My mouth drops open. “What the hell are you doing?”

He ignores me, dropping four corsets to the ground. “Clearing out your lingerie closet. Or rather, room.”

“I can see that. My next question is why the f**k you’re doing it.”

He stops in the middle of the room and his chest heaves before he raises his head to look at me. His gaze burns into me, and I don’t move when he approaches me and stands right in front of me.

“Because”—he cups my chin and tilts my head back—“I refuse to f**k you in something you’ve f**ked another guy in.”

“It didn’t bother you before.”

He grabs my hips and flattens my body against his. I turn my head when he pulls it into his chest. His breath crawls over my neck when he lowers his mouth to my ear.

“That was before, sweetheart. This is now. This is different. This is a new start and another chance for both of us. That means we put shit in the past and leave it there, and for you, that starts with getting this stuff out of your house.”

“I’m not throwing out my underwear,” I say through clenched teeth.

“It’s nonnegotiable, Dayton. Your old underwear will sit collecting dust.” His fingers dig into my lower back. “I’ll replace it all, but you will get rid of it. You won’t be needing it again anyway.”

“You’re failing on the making-it-up-to-me thing.”

“There are a thousand ways I can make it up to you, Dayton, but none of them begins with lingerie you worked in. Get f**king rid of it.”

I take a deep breath. Fucking man. “And the new stuff?”

He kisses my jaw. “The new stuff I will enjoy removing from your body very, very much. Most of it, anyway. Some of it I like so much I might just have to f**k you in it.”

The mother of all aches starts in my clit. Goddamn him.

“We’re going to be late,” I manage, pulling back from him.

He smirks knowingly. “I don’t think you’d need much convincing to be even later.”

I stop at the bottom of the stairs and slide the shoulder of my dress down, revealing a red strap. “Don’t go there, Mr. Stone. If we start, we won’t be stopping. Now get your ass in your car.”

“She’s bossy.” He places his hands on my waist and guides me from the house, only stopping so I can lock the door.

“She’s taking tips from this demanding, possessive guy she knows.”

Aaron eases me into the car, keeping me close as he can. “You demanding is kind of sexy.” His finger trails down my side and thigh. “And so is this dress.”

He wraps his arm around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder with a small smile. When it’s so easy and natural between us, like it is right now, it’s hard to stay mad. It’s hard to remember all the bullshit from a month ago and remind myself why this might not be the best idea.

When the beat of my heart matches his, it’s hard to consider a life without him.

As it is, I already don’t know how I lived for seven years without looking in his eyes and kissing him and touching him. I don’t know how I lived without the electrifying spark born of his skin against mine or the trembling bliss of his body covering mine.

I know it’s not healthy. To be so distracted by someone, to be so attracted to them and so… obsessed… It’s not good and nothing good can come of it. I proved that to myself when I walked away. The pain that tore through my body at the reality of leaving him behind in Paris once again was too much to bear. The more time I spend around him, the worse that pain will be if it happens again.

I don’t want it to. As much as I convinced myself that I didn’t want anything to happen between us again, especially after he showed up in my home city, I don’t want a life that doesn’t have him in it in some way.

I don’t want a day where I wake up to find that he’s no longer there.

That’s why I’m giving him this godforsaken stupid second chance he doesn’t deserve. That’s why I’m giving him what he wants, because really, I want it, too. I want us. I want us the way I thought I knew us. I want to find out what us really is. Who we really are together, who we are alone, and where that will take us.

I want to know that, in the end, the pain will be worth it. I want to know if the fights and the doubts and the hurtful words thrown carelessly in the heat of the moment are worth it. If they’re worth the feeling of wholeness, of the complete and utter clarity he brings to my life. If they’re worth giving up my control forever and handing it to the man who already controls my heart so completely.

I need to know if everything is worth the love he’s yet to admit to.

And I need to know those words. I need to hear those three tiny words fall from his lips, because they’re the verification I need for this relationship. Three tiny words that will lay to rest every single doubt I have about our situation.