Loud Love // Soundgarden

Emily follows me down to the kitchen. I don't have a plan other than rifling through the pantry for something better than a lonely little cupcake. Which begs the question...

"Where'd you get the cupcake this morning?" I ask as I step into the walk-in pantry.

"Oh, delivery."

"Whole Foods?" I'm curious how bougie that cupcake was. I'm no pastry chef, so whatever I do come up with will be basic. And possibly inedible.

"No." She clears her throat. "Sprinkles."

I drop my chin to my chest with a whoosh of breath. "Wow. Why am I even bothering?" I mumble the words but clearly, Emily heard me.

"You don't have to. It's really fine. I don't need to celebrate. I actually don't want to."

Well, shit. Now I feel like a jerk. "Emily, I may suck at baking, but your birthday should not go uncelebrated." My family made a big freaking deal about birthdays, even though we didn't have the money to spend on elaborate parties. But when you have foster kids turned adopted siblings, birthdays take on a more significant meaning. Everyone should feel their existence is meaningful, and kids in the system don't often feel that way. My own siblings are case in point. So both Mom and I went out of our way to celebrate Oscar and Mari on their day.

I step out of the pantry to find Emily sitting up on the island countertop, eyes cast downward.

"What are your plans with your mom?" Surely the ice queen herself wouldn't miss the chance at celebrating her daughter's birth. Wouldn't that also point the spotlight at herself as the mother of the guest of honor?

"None. Really. It's no big deal."

I nod. "Okay, okay. I get it. No balloons, no streamers. No fireworks." Emily looks up at me dismissively.

Downplay seems to be the tone of the day, but something inside of me fumes at the thought the great Anita Brooks isn't planning to celebrate the birth of her adopted daughter. Which is why I won't let this go.

"How about birthday pancakes?" That I can do. "I'll even add sprinkles and chocolate chips."

She makes a show of checking the time. "It's way past breakfast."

I nod to the back windows at the moonlit night glowing on the ocean water. "So? Breakfast for dinner sounds good to me."

Emily tilts her head, watching as I pull out the mix and some milk.

"Yeah, that sounds pretty good." She reluctantly agrees, finally.

I grab eggs and hit the jackpot finding a slab of bacon. Who knew she was this stocked up? I keep some of Zack's pre-made Keto bowls in the freezer for my meals. This is the first time I've tried raiding her fridge.

"Why do you have so much food in here? You only order out for your meals."

"For you."

I whip my head in her direction. "Me?"

This time it's Emily who shrugs. "Yeah. After all that home cooking at your mom's house, I figured you'd probably want to make something."

It takes a few seconds for her words to sink in. But when they do, I step closer to where she's perched on the island. I drop my hands on either side of her thighs, leaning in to look her in the eye.

"Wow," I say quietly.

"What?"

"You care about me."

"Oh." Emily drops the eye contact. I miss it instantly so I tip her chin up, forcing the contact to continue.

"Do you?" Our lips are a hair's width apart.

Her eyes flutter closed as she nods. "Kind of."

Grinning, my fingers slide from her chin along her jawline to grip the back of her head. She sways gently in my arms as I reach behind her to pull her closer.

"Kind of, huh?" Emily's brows rise at my question, but her eyes remain closed. "Kind of the way I care about you, or..."

"Or what?" Her voice has a breathy quality that stirs in my chest. I affect her. And I like it.

Too much.

"Or...I'm not sure." Emily's eyes crack open slightly, a hypnotized glaze filling them. "I have a confession to make."

"Oh?"

I shouldn't say it. I didn't plan to open up the way I'm about to, but I can't help myself. Not with the way she's responding to my proximity. I may be as hypnotized as she is considering what I'm about to do.

"I had the biggest crush on you."

My honesty pulls her eyes open the rest of the way.

"You did?"

"I figured the poster in my closet was the smoking gun. Hadn't you guessed?"

"That's not me in your closet. That's Monica Mulrooney," she says, referring to her T.V. character.

Slowly, I shake my head. "No. You were dressed as Monica Mulrooney, but I only saw Emily Montano. You were my dream girl."

Her eyes close again, but this time it's a defensive move rather than a blissed out haze.

"What did I say?" I ask quietly, hating that I've ruined the moment.

"That was another Emily. I'm not that girl anymore. Not your dream girl. I'm-" She cuts herself off.

"You're a woman I'm honored to know. You're someone who's been tried and judged by a court of public opinion. And I'm guilty of buying the lie." Tenderly, I brush a lock of hair away from her face, once again cradling her jaw in my hands. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Don't be. I'm a mess. That part's true."

"Maybe a little messy. Is that so bad? I'm not afraid of a little mess, Em. I'm not afraid of who you are, of what you've gone through to make you the person standing in front of me." I drop my lips close to her ear so she hears every syllable of what I'm about to say. "I like this Emily."

That's the absolute truth. I dreaded this assignment after everything I'd read. But I should have realized the sensationalized headlines were just that and not worthy of a second glance.

"I like this Javier," she says, her voice breaking on my name. Hearing her say it, hearing her call me by my given name is a hit stronger than any drug I could take. Has she said my name before? I can't remember because the way she let it linger on her lips is brand new.

Not able to hold back any longer, I lean in, covering her lips with mine. A kiss that says much more than the one we shared upstairs. I told myself I shouldn't. I'll probably get fired for parting her lips with the tip of my tongue and dipping inside for a taste.

But I can't bring myself to care.

I can get another job.

I can't get another Emily.

She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, and I feel like I've won. A prize, a race, a title...I've won it all with Emily pressed against me, my fingers in her hair and my tongue in her mouth exploring and tasting. Tilting my head one way and angling hers another, I take this kiss further. Deeper. Emily mewls, a little kitten cry that has my blood pumping, rushing south.

"God, the sounds you make," I manage between plundering her mouth. My wandering hands run from her hair, down her back, to cup her ass and pull her closer, into me. Her legs wrap around my waist and what I thought was winning before when it was just her arms around my neck becomes pathetic. I'm a king right now.

And Emily is my queen.

Royalty indeed.

I've never felt worthy in the way I do in her arms.

"Em," I breathe. Her name becomes a song, worship of the woman I'm holding.

The grouchy neighbor who thought so little of the woman I'm actively in awe of comes to mind. I imagine putting on a real show for the old bastard. His eyes would pop right before narrowing in disgust. I wouldn't mind making him eat his words by showing him just how wrong he is. Just how amazing Emily can be, how resilient. How damn enticing.

Reluctantly, I pull away, keeping my hands in place because I can't help myself. This woman has me unhinged and I need to gather a semblance of control.

Plus, I have a birthday breakfast to make, even though it's closer to bedtime.

"Ready for those pancakes I promised?" I brush a thumb against her swollen lips, feeling an obscene amount of pride for being the cause.

Emily pouts. "I liked the meal you were serving."

I laugh, shaking my head. "We could put on a four course meal if we kept going, but I want to make you a special night."

"Wasn't that special enough?"

I laugh again, so damn relieved that we can banter playfully after making out like teenagers in the kitchen. Not that we're much past our teenage years, but still. We should keep things respectable. My thoughts rush back to my original hesitations. I'm her bodyguard. She's my principal assignment. I've crossed a major line.

But I can't be bothered to care.

I won't let myself think about the potential fallout. Not today.

"It was more than special," I say, giving her a chaste peck. Emily pouts again when I step out of her hold and put two steps between her body and mine. Self preservation. "But the pancakes will be, too. Trust me."

She shakes her head, hopping off the island counter. "That's the problem. I do."

"Trusting me is a problem?" I laugh, expecting her to be joking.

But I sober up real quick when I see the serious as hell look on her face.

"Probably. Hasn't worked out too well in the past." Her words feel like a confession without details. I hate wondering what she's gone through and knowing it was probably worse than I can imagine. Seeing how fiercely she's protecting Miranda, desperate to keep the child actress from suffering, whatever happened has to be bad.

I tell myself I'm experienced with tough childhoods. Mine was tame by many standards but still not great. My siblings went through trauma I wouldn't wish on anyone. I've seen what happens to kids who go to hell and back, and I've been there to support them through recovery. I can handle it. I can help her.

In so many ways, I'm the guy Emily needs right now. Maybe longer then now. But I won't get ahead of myself. We have tonight and I won't think past the present. So I pull together the ingredients for pancakes and bacon, scramble up some eggs and serve Emily a birthday breakfast fit for my Hollywood queen. We eat our meal overlooking the ocean and the starry night while talking about mundane things like finding shells in the sand and bodysurfing fails. The night unfolds comfortably, an unspoken agreement to hit pause on the kiss in the kitchen and the semi confessions we made.

Until the sound of the garage door fills the house, causing Emily to freeze with her fork at her lips. The two of us glance back toward the fancy foyer, knowing our bubble is about to burst. The noise of elevator doors opening sounds like an alarm or a judge's gavel rapping against his desk.

Or a fucking bullet from a firing squad.

Because the next sound we hear is the clickity clack of heels on marble tile and a tsk tsk from the Queen of mean herself. Mother Dearest.

I glance at Emily, my futile hope her mom is here for a birthday surprise evaporating at the look of horror on her face.

"Emily," the woman spits her daughter's name as she comes into view. "I should have known you would create a mess I'd have to clean up."

"No one's asked you to clean up after our meal, Mother Dearest. I think we can wash a few dishes without your help."

I'm proud to see Emily speak up, but something about her voice warns me there's more going on than a messy kitchen.

Her mom makes the tsking sound again, shaking her head for good measure.

"Oh, darling. You know that's not what I meant." Anita crosses her arms, glaring at her daughter and then at me in equal measure. "John contacted my assistant this morning."

In a way I can't explain, I sense Emily shut down. I don't understand the physical connection I have, but her reaction runs through me as though I've been zapped. Electrocuted.

"You're free to retire to your accommodations," her mother says to me. "My daughter and I need to come to an understanding." Her eyes shoot back to Emily. "Now."

I stand up to leave, but there's no fucking way I'm abandoning Emily to this woman. I look at Emily, willing her to read my thoughts.

I'll be close by if you need me.

I'm not leaving you.

She nods in understanding before I make a show of walking to the stairs without a word. I open my bedroom door, closing it seconds later as though I'd gone inside. Then I wait silently for the bomb to go off.

And when it does, I'll pull Emily from the aftermath.

I'm telling you, this one hits so hard when I'm working on it. I love these two together. It's not quite rivals to lovers, or workplace boss/employee...I'm not sure how this one works out but it's damn good when it does! I love the way this one unfolded. The drama about to ensue has my heart racing...just wait!

Javier wants to love her loudly (aka Loud Love) but he's not able to. Yet. That's the key word right there, because eventually they can have their happily ever after. IF they survive to road to get there. *wink*

https://youtu.be/j0xosEFe8Ik

COVER REVEAL for Not Another Player TOMORROW!! Unless you've subscribed to my newsletter. Those peeps just got the reveal this morning. I can't wait to share it with the world! and ARC sign ups still open if you'd like and advanced review copy on June 10th. Link on my page!