What If (Willowbrook Book 2) by Ashlyn Mathews Read Free Book Online Page B

one she’d lost her virginity to. Could this guy be the one in the truck from two nights ago?
    His phone, or maybe hers, buzzed on the nightstand next to the bed. She leaned over, grabbed the cell and handed it to him. “It fell out of your jacket pocket. I thought you might need it in case you got an important message or phone call.”
    He punched in the security code and glanced at the text messages on the screen. One was from Tess wondering why he wasn’t answering. The other was from Jones asking about Emma. He gave Emma the phone. “Help a guy out, will you?”
    She looked from the screen to his face with a death glare he welcomed. As he’d promised himself, he’d break Emma’s heart.
    “Text her that I’m with my girl in a remote, romantic place. Do the same for Jones.”
    Her eyes widened before she typed then sent the text. Her fingers shook. He stilled them with his hand over hers. “Let’s make a fire.” He nodded in the direction of the wood-burning fireplace in the bedroom.
    The house had been his first big purchase after he was drafted into the NFL. With a field separating their places, the location had been perfect for the secret relationship Emma had wanted.
    She slipped her hand out from under his. “No. You’re planning something devious.”
    He smiled big. Yeah, he was. On cold nights, he’d used the fireplace to keep them warm but not to purposefully seduce her.
    “Say yes.” He got up off the bed. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.” He put his clenched hands in front of his face as though ready to do some kick-ass boxing moves. “I can’t do much with these casts on, anyway.”
    The heat in their place kicked in. She raised a brow at the racket. He shrugged. “We can still have a fire.”
    With wariness in her eyes, she nodded. After she put on her shoes, Emma followed close on his heels as he made his way toward the back of the house for firewood.
    The sun was starting to set. Rather than grabbing the firewood and going inside, he sat on the steps and patted the spot next to him. She hesitated before surprising him by taking a seat on the step below his, cocooning herself between his legs.
    Slowly exhaling, he rested his chin on the top of her head. This was what had been missing from his life since their breakup—moments of contentment and calm he’d remember for days after. But he’d only ever felt at peace when he was with Emma.
    His chest tightened at all the memories of their time together in this house that came rushing forward. He slung his arms over her shoulders and pulled her body against his. She turned and rubbed her face on his arm. The hairs stood on end, as though an electric current ran the length of his body.
    “Em, you might want to stop.”
    She didn’t stop. She grasped his swollen fingers and brought them to her lips. Her tongue teased his fingertips. Soft and wet, like he’d remembered her to be before he pushed inside her, filling her. When he was inside her, she’d tremble beneath him. Her full lips would part, the opportunity perfect for him to claim her mouth and rile her up until they were a mess of teeth and tongue.
    As he drove into her hard, he’d look down into eyes half-closed and a gorgeous face that openly revealed her desire. Close to coming, she’d tilt her hips up. He’d grasp what she’d offered him and pound into her over and over until they came hard, together.
    He shifted in his seat, the memories too vivid. Dammit, he had a raging hard-on just thinking of the sex with her.
    “Tell me why your fingers are swollen, why you hurt so badly earlier?”
    It’d be easy to run his mouth off to her. Emma was always a good listener. But if he answered, he’d have to tell her the reason why he ignored the blasted pain in his fingers and kept on chucking footballs. His need for her eased into a simmering boil.
    The reason—a fucked up emotion called jealousy—would lead to a confession about seeing her with another guy. Then he’d