EMMA DAMIAN 8

- - D A M I A N - -

I was tempted to honk my horn.

When I parked my artic white BMW M3 in front of Emma's apartment complex, a grin spread across my face. Of course, I didn't want to honk out of impatience; rather, I wanted to be prankish.

When we were in high school, we used to joke about how nothing was naughtier than a guy who would pull up to a girl's house and lay on the horn without even knocking. So, of course, I did it all the time to her. I'd drive up to her house, honk, and then put on this ridiculous act like I was completely frustrated. Emma would always do the same thing: she'd laugh as she walked out of her house and give me a little shove as she got into the car.

I'd say, "Finally." "Oh, yeah, I'm short on cash." Can you help with dinner? ”

That joke would make her laugh, and she'd call me an asshole. Then I'd greet her normally, leaning in and planting a kiss on her sexy-as-fuck lips, my senses being assaulted by her taste and scent.

That aroma. It was unusual. Emma had always been a tomboy, so she wasn't interested in girly things like perfume back then. Drakkar Noir was my Drakkar Noir, and she never failed to tease me about it. Despite this, she always managed to smell fantastic. That scent, like lilacs and cotton candy, and pure sex, I could imagine even now. It was enough to make my cock shift just closing my eyes and recalling it.

So there's no horn. I got out of my car and walked around the apartment complex, taking in the sights. It was one of those newer buildings, three stories high with entrances on the outside. I dashed up the stairs and into her apartment, knocking quickly once I was in front of the door.

Nothing. No reaction.

Hell on earth. Is she really going to disregard me? Not unexpected, but extremely disappointing.

To be honest, she had every reason in the world not to accompany me. But my plan was simple: ignore it and pretend it never happened. It was only a weekend together, after all. It's pointless to dwell on the past. We could have a little fun in Boracay before splitting up. As simple as it gets.

If she answered the door, that is.

I waited a few minutes longer before knocking again, this time a little louder. I received a response this time.

"Hold on! " an irritated voice said from within the apartment. "Please give me a second!" ”

I chuckled as I said, "Take your time." I looked at my Omega diving watch and saw that it was exactly eight o'clock – right on time.

I heard a soft patter of footsteps approaching the door, followed by the lock clicking open and the knob turning. And then she appeared.

Sure, I'd seen her at the gala, and she'd looked ridiculously good. Emma in that low-cut, dark green dress would undoubtedly be a recurring figure in my solitary fantasies for years to come.

But something about her, dressed in a casual outfit of slim dark jeans, a fitted navy blue hoodie, and white Converse low-tops, had an unexpected effect on me. She was dressed like Emma, the adorably awkward tomboy I'd fallen in love with in high school.

Even her slightly irritated "what are you looking at?" expression was all Emma. Her mere presence in front of me was enough to make me not only wildly aroused, but also to instill in me a strange longing for a woman I hadn't felt in years.

"Right on time, huh?"

" she inquired.

"Waiting for something else?"

”

"I'm not sure what to expect from you these days," she expressed her skepticism.

"In Boracay, you can expect an amazing weekend," I said, a smile on my face. "I'm assuming you still intend to come."

"Are you standing here with your suitcase?"

”

Her voice and words had an edge to them that was discernible. It was up to me to keep the bitter feelings from our past from erupting and ruining an otherwise enjoyable weekend with old friends.

"That's the spirit," I said, pointing to two small bags on her kitchen table. "You're only bringing that?" ”

When she returned her gaze, my eyes dropped, locking onto her perfect, round ass – it was as if I didn't have any control over myself. Before she turned around, my cock twitched again, and I gave myself a quick internal scolding.

"Boracay is only two days long." I don't need to bring much."

I hadn't dated much over the years, but I could easily imagine some of the other women I'd dated bringing half their wardrobe with them.

"Do you realize you've never been a typical woman?"

" I replied with a warm smile, assuring her that it was a compliment.

She remained silent, staring at me as if I'd just insulted her.

"Wow, tough crowd," I said after clearing my throat. "Do you mind if I enter?" ”

She furrowed her brow, as if weighing the advantages and disadvantages of the proposal. “Fine. But don't get too comfy – the flight is leaving in a few minutes."

I said, "Private jet." "They're going to leave whenever we want."

Her lovely face was flushed with curiosity. “What? I thought these were tickets for a regular flight? ”

I said, "They were." "However, I decided to upgrade us a little." Although it is a short flight, I believe we can do better than coach."

Another perplexed expression, as if attempting to deduce my perspective. I walked into her place after she stepped aside. It was a nice, cozy little apartment with a gorgeous view of the bay right next to the complex.

There was also that scent, which I'd always associated with her. It filled the room, giving me the same dizziness as if she'd pumped some kind of gas into the vents. Part of me wanted to wrap my arm around her waist, lift her off her feet, and carry her into the bedroom because I was so turned on. But I had a feeling that wouldn't go over well.

I took a look at her belongings. "How about I go get those for you?" " I walked over to the table and prepared to pick up both bags without waiting for her response.

She, on the other hand, was not having it. Emma dashed to the table, arriving precisely at the moment I wrapped my fingers around the first bag's handle. She snatched the other and dragged it away from me.

She said, "I got it." "I don't need you to carry my luggage."

This was Emma, the Emma I'd fallen in love with all those years before. Even if there hadn't been any bad blood between us, she would have done the same thing. Emma had always been the type to do things on her own, scoffing at me for doing typical gentlemanly things like holding the door open or carrying her belongings.

I murmured, "Always the independent type." "The more things change, the more..."

"Do you mind if we go?"

" she said impatiently, pointing to the door.

"I think we should get going."

Emma went through the apartment quickly, turning off all the lights. Knowing what would happen in the next twenty minutes or so once we were on the road, I suppressed a grin. We stepped outside, and before heading down to the car, I watched Emma lock her door.

"This is me," I said as I pointed to my BMW.

"Nice ride," she said, her tone casual. Material things had never really impressed her. "Are you sick of the Jag?" ”

"I still have it – it's parked in my garage."

Her eyes widened, as if she was enthralled. But the expression vanished quickly, and I wondered if she'd been transported back to our time together, to the long drives we'd take during our dating season, with nothing on our minds but each other and the wind in our hair as we drove for miles and miles.

I opened the back door and slid her bag inside; she did the same with the other. I let her open the door to her side by herself, and we were off in no time. We drove for about ten minutes, and I was forced to hide my smile once more as I watched worry creep across her face.

I couldn't take it anymore. "You're all right."

“What? " she inquired.

"You're all right."

"What are you on about? ”

"You know what I'm talking about, Emmie." How many times have I picked you up from your house only to witness you doing the same thing? ”

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she sniffed, her voice tinged with impatience.

"Right now, you're wondering if you turned off all the lights, if you turned off whatever burner you used to make breakfast, if you forgot something."

"That was not what I had in mind."

I couldn't stop laughing. "Of course it wasn't. But, if it makes you feel any better, they were always off when we returned to your house to check."

"Can you blame me if I'm concerned? " she inquired. "I no longer live with my parents." If a burner is lit, the entire structure may rise."

"You're all right. Trust me."

"Are you sure?" " As soon as I said them, I realized it was a poor choice of words. I hadn't done anything to earn her trust, after all. "I mean, before you left, I saw you double-check everything." You're all right."

She opened her mouth as if to chew me out, as if to tell me she didn't need me to tell her she was fine. She did, however, close her mouth.

We drove the rest of the way in silence, eventually arriving at the airport. I drove through the security gate, the guard letting us in after checking our identification and confirming we had a flight booked.

As we approached the plane, I noticed Emma was impressed out of the corner of my eye.

"Are we really going to Boracay with this?" How many other passengers will we be flying with? ”

"Zero," I declared. "Therefore, a private plane."

I parked near the plane and handed over the key to a valet. He drove away after we'd loaded the bags into the small cargo hold, and Emma and I climbed the stairs and boarded the plane.

"Wow," she exclaimed, her voice sincere. "I was expecting us to be in a four-person group or something. There's nothing like it."

I'd overspent on the plane, but it was well worth it. It was roomy and luxurious, just what we needed for a memorable trip to Boracay. We sat down and buckled up, and a half-hour later, we were in the air, clouds gathering around the Rockies below. Emma sat beside me, her phone in her hand.

I said, "There's WiFi."

"Oh, good," she said as she took her MacBook from her bag, opened it, and turned to me.

”

Silence fell for a beat. "Are you planning on working the entire flight?" ”

"Why not? " she inquired as she moved her fingertip around the trackpad, her eyes on the screen. "What would I be doing otherwise? ”

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "How about speaking with the person you'll be traveling with?" ”

For a brief moment, she looked away from the screen. "Why would I do something like that?" What are we going to talk about? ”

I reached over and gently closed the computer with my fingers on the top.

"What are you doing here?"

”

It's pointless to put off the question any longer. "Are you ever going to forgive me, Emma?" ”

My question seemed to perplex her completely. "What are you on about?" What have you been forgiven for? ”

I said, "Come on." "It's one thing to harbor resentment. It's another thing entirely to act as if nothing happened between us."

"I'm not saying nothing happened between us," she shook her head, turning to face me. There is nothing to forgive, in my opinion. Our past exists, but it is only that: past. We're both adults, with jobs, bills, and other responsibilities. I don't have time to be bitter about a high school fling."

I had a choice at that moment. Emma pretended to be unconcerned, as if I was the one who was crazy for being concerned. Emma was a lot of things at the same time. She was intelligent, attractive, and tenacious. She was, however, a terrible liar.

I could've called her out on it, telling her it was nonsense and that I was well aware of it. I didn't. I wanted to have a nice trip with an amazing woman who I still cared about as much as I wanted to smooth things over between us.

Although the lie was obvious, she was giving me a choice. I knew exactly which one to make.

"How about this?" says the speaker. Let's have a drink, shall we? ”

She grinned. "I'm down."

I went to the minibar and bought a bottle of champagne. It was open in seconds, with two bubbling glasses in our hands.

"To fresh starts? " I asked.

"I'll raise a glass to that."