Chapter 22
Jul 18, 2025
Emery’s POV
There wasn’t a dramatic apology, no tearful monologues. And, honestly, I was okay with that.
We didn’t talk about what happened to us that night but I know something changed. Maybe it made us more comfortable with each other.
Some days, Landon stayed the night in my apartment, but it wasn’t romantic. We didn’t fall into each other like some big Hollywood reunion.
We watched a movie on the couch, half of it, anyway, and I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder.
When I woke up, he was still there, barely breathing, like he was afraid to move.
The next morning, he drove me to the school where I taught. Didn’t say much, just held the door open and waited until I was inside before pulling away.
“Take care. I’ll pick you up later,” he bid his goodbye and I just nodded and waved my hand.
And at 4:00 p.m. sharp, I spotted his car parked across the street. He just waited.
We had dinner that night, grilled cheese and tomato soup, because that was all I could stomach. He didn’t complain. Didn’t suggest takeout or fancy restaurants.
Just helped slice the cheese and stood next to me like it was the most normal thing in the world.
After the dinner, I walked Landon to the door. We need to be separated again. He needs to go back to his apartment.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked.
I bit my lip, thinking that it would be good, but I was tired, and I still didn’t want to open my heart that much. “Maybe next time.”
“Then… just give me a goodnight kiss. To make my sleep better.” I chuckled softly before leaning in, pressing my lips to his.
It started simple, warm and unhurried. But as our mouths moved together, something inside me cracked open. His hand cupped my jaw, then slid into my hair, deepening the kiss until it was all tongue and soft gasps.
My hand clutched the front of his shirt, anchoring myself to him.
When his other hand brushed the side of my thigh, I didn’t flinch, didn’t even breathe. He slowly dragged his fingers under my jeans, up my bare skin, stopping just at the edge of my panties.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against my mouth. “And I would.”
But I didn’t and he kissed me again, slower this time, then trailed his lips to my neck. His fingers moved gently, tracing over the damp heat between my thighs through the thin fabric.
I whimpered, my hips shifting forward on instinct. “God,” he whispered, “you’re already wet.”
I buried my face in his shoulder, moaning softly as he eased my panties to the side and slid two fingers between my folds, teasing the slickness before dipping inside me.
I gasped. “Landon—”
“Shh,” he said, kissing my temple. “Let me make you feel good. Just a little.”
His fingers moved in a slow rhythm, curling deep while his thumb circled my clit with gentle pressure. I held on to his shoulders, biting back cries as heat built fast and hard.
“So good…” I whispered, trembling.
“I’ve missed touching you like this,” he growled, lips brushing my ear. “You’re so tight.”
My thighs quivered around his hand, and then I came, quiet but shaking, clenching around his fingers as I breathed his name.
He kissed me again, pulling his fingers out slowly, then slid my panties back into place with a soft groan.
“Come sleep,” he said, tugging me gently toward the bed. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me stay.”
So I did. The next morning, I woke up craving grapes. Random, specific, and impossible to ignore.
“I need grapes,” I mumbled from the couch.
Landon blinked, half-dressed and mid-coffee. “Like, right now?”
I nodded. “Red ones. Cold.”
He didn’t argue. Just set his cup down. “Be back in ten.”
He kissed my forehead and left, grabbing his keys and muttering something about market hours. I smiled after him.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I assumed it was him, maybe with the wrong type of grapes. Instead, I opened it and found my neighbor.
She gave me an odd look. “You’ve got a visitor,” she said, pointing down the hallway. “Old friend of yours, she said.”
I frowned. “Did she say her name?”
The neighbor shrugged. “Didn’t ask. But she’s standing right outside the gate like she owns the place.”
Something in my stomach dropped. I stepped outside, heart thudding. And there she was. Marian. Poised, perfect, dressed like she stepped out of a magazine.
Red lipstick, blazer, and heels that didn’t belong anywhere near this beach town.
“Hi, Emery,” she said sweetly.
