got me off so hard—using her thumb to stroke the soft skin at the base of my balls while she was sucking—every time she’d given me head since. And when I had to work late, Emzee would hold off on watching our shows until I got home, so we could still watch them together over dinner.
Yet despite the fact that everything was going well, it all felt fragile.
If either of us were to actually acknowledge what was happening between us, try to talk about it or question it in any way, it might shatter everything. The relationship we were building wasn’t a house of cards—it was a house of glass. Beautiful, delicate…and not necessarily built to last. No matter how much either of us might wish otherwise. But now, See Yourself’s fundraiser was upon us, and I couldn’t focus on anything else.
It was all Emzee had been able to think (and stress) about for the last week and a half, so even if I wanted to avoid worrying about the whole thing, it would have been impossible.
As we pulled up in front of my parents’ meticulously kept brownstone mansion, I gave Em’s hand a reassuring squeeze. There were still a few last-minute logistics to deal with.
“I’m so nervous I feel like I’m going to be sick,” she said, huffing out a sigh.
“It’ll be okay,” I told her, putting the car in park and turning off the engine. “I’m sorry it’s so uncomfortable for you. Just try to think about all the good it’ll do for the nonprofit.”
She nodded. “I know. It’s gonna be worth it in the end. I mean, that’s what’s gotten me this far, right? It’s just…ugh.”
“Hard to accept help from snooty rich people?” I suggested.
“Especially snooty rich people who obviously don’t like you. This is going to be the longest night ever.” Her anxiety was so bad, I could see her hands shaking in her lap.
“My parents do like you,” I soothed. “They’re just…slow to warm up. Unlike me.”
Then I pulled her in for a kiss, letting myself get lost in her soft lips and quiet moans for longer than I should have. Wishing more than anything that I could kiss her nerves away.
“Better get rid of that semi, Mr. Malone,” Emzee whispered, dragging her hand over the bulge in my pants. “Though I wouldn’t mind revisiting it later.”
“Or we could just take care of it now…” I grinned suggestively. “We have time.”
“As much as I’d love to have a quickie in the back seat of your car right outside your parents’ house, I’m going to need every spare minute to get ready for this event,” Emzee said.
“Then I’ll take you up on that raincheck when we get home tonight.”
I composed myself as quickly as possible and we headed up the front steps, holding hands as I rang the doorbell. The sound of it echoed from inside the house, and I could hear footsteps rushing down the stairs toward us.
“Here goes nothing,” Emzee said under her breath, seconds before the door opened.
“Ford!” my parents’ housekeeper Vivi exclaimed, reaching up to pat my cheek. “And sweet Mara. Lovely to see you both. Come in, dear hearts. I’ll let them know you’ve arrived. Mara, do you want me to set your dress bag in an upstairs bedroom so you can get ready? Claudia’s changing down the hall to the left, so I’ll just put you in a room to the right.”
“Thank you, that’s perfect,” Emzee said gratefully. “I’ll be up shortly.”
The housekeeper bustled away, and I leaned down to tell Emzee, “Vivi loves you.”
“Vivi loves everybody,” Emzee replied.
“Fair point,” I conceded.
Vivi had always been the brightest, warmest thing in my parents’ mansion. Growing up, the place had felt more like a museum full of rare antiques and expensive furniture and paintings than an actual house for a living, breathing family. Vivi’s peanut butter cookies and kind counsel had made a difference, but even her goodness hadn’t made up for the way my parents had always made me feel like an inconvenience—or a disappointment—to them.
Just then, Emzee’s cell rang. She glanced down at the screen. “Shit. Don’t be bad news.”
“Who is it?” I asked.
“The caterer,” she said, picking up. “Hello? …This is she.”
Emzee paced the hall, and from her end of the conversation I gathered that the caterer’s fishmonger had raised the price on salmon but lowered the price of caviar. They were asking if she wanted to tweak the fundraiser’s menu to avoid a several-thousand-dollar upcharge.
“I understand that,” she