Something About Emmett (Billionaire Romance) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 21 - Something Delicious

Magical seemed to be an appropriate enough description of the day. We had ridden every single ride that was laid out for us on the theme park maps, most of which Emmett had already been on before. He had not seemed to mind.

We ate copious amounts of junk foods, all tasting as if they were made by perfect little fairies. He had apparently had it on his bucket list to stuff me like a turkey, wanting me to try every thing that was new to me. I never grew tired, as he led me by the hand, through both theme parks. But there was one part that had made my afternoon perfection, one part which had turned me into a kid without so much as a second embarrassed thought.

Harry Potter had his own chunk of each park, made specifically for me, and which Emmett had to endure for hours. I had bought myself a Gryffindor scarf, and he had gone on to buy me the matching knee length socks when I wasn't looking. It only took two minutes before I was slipping the scarf around my neck in seventy degree weather and removing my own socks to done the new ones. Every inch of the place had been scoured by us, until I was left satisfied and practically beaming.

Only my taste for maturity and rationality had me turn down the fleeting idea that perhaps I should have bought a wand for my lonely scarf and socks.

I wore them in happiness as we walked through the adjoined downtown area that was CityWalk, and toward the lot where Emmett had parked his car.

***

I should have figured that we would stay in one of Emmett's hotels. It was perfectly nestled in downtown Orlando, rising into the sky in a beautiful splendor, steel and perfectly reflecting glass. The hotel room was of another kind of classification, for I wouldn't call it a room, but a luxury apartment with it's vast spaces and attractively modern decoration.

I sat down slowly on the white leather couch, hoping to rest my still-aching feet for another few minutes. I flexed them, stretching out each leg.

"You're tired," he said, breaking me from my stretches, my distant train of thought.

I looked up at him, suddenly aware of the gorgeous man inside the room with me. I cleared my throat to speak. "Yes, but nothing that a warm shower won't fix."

He looked at me hesitantly, running a hand self-consciously through his hair. "I made dinner plans, but if you're too tired I understand. We can stay in instead."

"No, no," I said, completely objecting of altering his plans for the night. "Let me just shower first and we'll go."

"It's right here, at the rooftop."

I nodded, wondering to myself it I had heard correctly. "I don't really have anything to wear... I mean, is it a formal restaurant? I only brought casual clothing."

He gave me a beautiful smile, and the heart in me stopped before it could regain its normal beats. "Your mother packed you something. I hope you don't mind, but I asked her to."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to surprise you, but I guess I didn't think it through. Of course you'd ask about the clothes."

That brought a smile to my lips, and I stood up from my seat, walking past him toward the bathroom. I lifted my hand to squeeze his arm assuringly, my fingers sliding past hot, smooth skin.

"That made it all the better, Emmett. Thank you."

I left him standing there as I went to the shower.

***

It became unexplainable to me why I was staring at myself in front of a large bathroom mirror, looking at my body. I just stared. I was wearing the black slip dress my mother had packed for me, and it was a beautiful one, because she had taste. It was also too sexy for comfort, with a deep v neckline that played with the curves of my breasts. They looked larger like this, as if they were on display, calling out to someone. I squirmed in discomfort.

It was a modest dress if you thought about it, reaching down to my knees, but the chest was so enhanced that I mentally cursed my mother for neglecting to pack me a jacket. If I had, at one moment, bought this dress, then I would have to take it out of the depths of my closet and actually wear it. Today was that day. That was the part that had me flushed in my cheeks. My hands were unstable, shaking from a mild and delicious anxiety that I couldn't push away.

I breathed in, breathed out. My hair and makeup were done. I couldn't do much with the scarcity of the supplies I had brought with me, but it was something. My mother had packed a deep plum lipstick, and it stained my lips at the moment.

Carefully I exited the bathroom, or the bath-hall, since it was, like the rest of the place, hard to define as a room. I entered the living area, and he was standing by the bar, looking down into the city from behind tall glass walls with a scotch in hand. It could be his signature. The tall and beautiful man with the slightly wild curls, shoulders broad and tense as he ponders over night lights like some sort of god. He was a sight to behold with his back to me, where I could revel in the masculinity and utter perfection of his strong, graceful body.

I had to breathe out for fear of forgetting to function, of collapsing. The thing I wanted most in my life was standing right there, feet away, and I was afraid of him. Fear of him for how he made me feel, for the control he would always have over my heart. My body. Just looking at him in a pair of slacks and a dark red button-up shirt was enough to send my body to the pits of need.

I wanted to walk silently to him, or to the bar to distract myself as I made a drink, but he heard my heels softly patter against the black marble floors and turned around. He faced me. His face settled into one of somber study, taking in my body with a single lingering gaze until he settled on my eyes and walked to me. I held my hands together and crossed my ankles nervously, looking up to face him when he stood inches from my skin.

"You're killing me," he murmured, taking his hand to touch my arm, sliding over my skin until he reached my shoulder. I did my best not to shiver.

"Why?" I asked him, the word coming out trampled and weak.

"Look at you, Jules. You were made to destroy me." A soft smile settled over his lips, while his eyes moved over my own. I knew he wanted to kiss me. It was written over every feature of his face. But he held himself back. I could not help but to feel a horrible disappointment.

"Thank my mother's taste," I said, chuckling softly to ease the tension between our bodies. "I wouldn't have worn the dress otherwise."

He took my hand and started to lead me toward the door. "I wasn't talking about the dress. It's what's under it. Now let's get moving before I regret myself."

With that he led me away, tightening my body with the hard warning in his voice, the lust in every word. If only he knew that I was near to losing myself, if I was not already lost. If he knew how completely he had me, and how completely his my body was feeling, then I would stand no chance. There would be no protection against him. No control of my own.

He just could not know. I would let him think I was simply enjoying the moment as he was, taking it step by step as though I hadn't already reached the finished line and fallen head over heels into mad love with him for the second time in my life, or for the only time, because I had never fallen away. He had promised to make me fall for him once more. For what purpose, I did not know. A sick sadism could be the possible explanation. But here I was again, being taken by his hand and his body, by everything about him, to a place that would be his in every sense of the word.

There was something delicious about this. And something that could destroy me.
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