Withstanding the Enemy

Thirteen

Chance…

Sitting in the living room in my only other change of clothes. I flip through the magazine, but I cannot focus on the pages with the image of Emma coming into my mind every few seconds.

From the corner of my eye, I see her enter the room. I try to control my emotions, or should I say my libido, by not looking at her.

“Do you have any books here for me to read besides these boring ass magazines?” I ask trying to look as if I were really studying the pages in front of me.

“Yes, there are some in the studies,” she says quietly.

I finally look over to her and put the magazine back on the end table. “Okay, where is that?”

“There is one on the floor above the kitchen where Rick’s main office is, but it’s usually locked. There is a smaller study on this floor just down the opposite hall from our rooms. I can take you.”

“Please, I don't want to get lost,” I tease.

She stands up. “It's this way.” She smiles shyly but still avoids my eyes.

I follow her as she walks toward the study. As the image of her in the bathroom drifts again to my consciousness, I remember that she was wearing earbuds.

“Do you like to listen to music?”

She pauses. “I like music but mostly if I'm not reading. I listen to audiobooks.”

“You mean you listen to a book and read another one at the same time?”

She chuckles. “No, it's the same book. I like to switch between reading and then listening. I like how it busies my mind. Listening allows me to do other stuff that I need to get done.”

Like pleasure yourself?

“Oh, that makes sense.”

She opens the door to the study, and we walk in. The room is equivalent in size to the bedrooms. Most of the walls are covered floor to ceiling books, except for the furthest wall from the door which is all windows. Two chairs sit facing the mahogany desk set in the center of the room.

“Wow, you have just about as many books here as the library,” I say looking around.

“Yes, Rick built it for me, the same year he moved me up here—four years ago,” she says with unmistakable pain.

“Really, and why does that upset you?” I ask wanting to understand.

She walks over to the desk and takes a seat as she looks sadly up at me. “I'm sorry, Chance, I don't want to talk about it.” She wipes away the tear that slides down her face.

You hurt her again! You dumbass!

“What genre are you looking for,” she asks glancing around the room.

“How about I try something in romance. Maybe something like what you are readin,” I say trying to get a smile on her face.

And I succeed as her shoulders shake with laughter.

“What? I may like it. Unless you have a better idea.”

“Yes, I do but if you are really wanting a romance novel, I will get you one.” She looks at me as she hind behind her smile..

“Bring it on. I want to see what you ladies are all into,” I say winking at her.

She looks down to her hands. “Okay, but if you don't like it. It's not my fault.”

Emma walks to the ladder, pulls it to the far right side of the wall, and begins to climb. Halfway up, she stops and reaches for a book and I watch the ladder wobble.

“Do you need help reaching it?” I ask as I walk over and hold onto both sides of the ladder.

She is wearing a pair of shorts with a loose plain blue t-shirt. The bare of her legs kicks up my body heat as they sit at eye level. The scent of lavender emanates from her skin and the image of her bath floods my mind again.

“Here it is,” she says as she begins making her way down.

Hypnotized by the way her body moves down the ladder, I freeze in place. The mixture of citrus and honey wafts to my nostrils from her hair as she reaches the last step and turns to face me as her eyes lock onto the back of the book. A familiar burning, that I know I can only associate with Emma, erupts within me.

With her completely absorbed into the back cover, she says, “Chance I think you will like this one. It’s a love story, but the setting is WW2…” She looks up to me and jumps, hugging the book to her chest. “OHH I didn’t see—”

“Emma, how am I going to work with you? You make it impossible for me,” I say as my voice vibrates low in my chest. Energy pulses between us—slamming hard against my body. My body begs for contact—touch her.

Knowing I am not going to be able to keep my hands off her much longer. I pluck the book from her grasp and pivot. I hastily make my way to the doorway without looking back. f**k, I don’t have the strength to look back, I think as I reach the doorway.

“Good night, Emma.”