Never Say Never by Rachael Sommers (books to get back into reading TXT) 📕

They moved onto Catan. Camila won the first game, but barely. Emily was getting to know her strategy, and she beat her the second game.

“Yes!” Her victory cry was a whisper, considerate as always about not waking the sleeping child down the hall (and God, she made it so easy to fall for her). She stretched and waved her arms above her head, and Camila chuckled. “You didn’t let me win, did you?” Emily asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at Camila.

“Of course not,” Camila scoffed. As if she ever would, no matter how deeply Emily might be embedded in her heart.

“Sure?”

“Yes, Emily, you beat me fair and square. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.” She smiled warmly, her eyes bright, and Camila had to look away. “I can probably make it home—”

“You’re staying, Emily,” Camila said in her sternest no-nonsense tone. “Just accept it.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble.” It wasn’t—it was nice having someone else there. “Are you tired?”

“A little,” Emily admitted. “Could I, um, use your shower before I go to bed? I feel gross.”

“Of course. Would you like to borrow some clothes again?”

“Please.”

Camila found the clothes she had given her last time, adding a large T-shirt to the pile for Emily to sleep in.

“Uh, do you think I could”—Emily shifted her weight, fiddling with her hands—“maybe borrow some underwear?” The words rushed out, like she had to say them fast or they wouldn’t come out at all. “I don’t think there’s any point in going back to my apartment in the morning when I’m already here, and I don’t—”

“It’s fine, Emily,” Camila cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Go look in the top drawer of my dresser while I get you a clean towel and a spare toothbrush.”

She returned to find Emily staring a little dumbstruck at Camila’s collection of lacy underwear, and Camila wondered if the poor girl’s brain had short circuited.

She bumped into the door to alert Emily that she was back. Emily hastily grabbed the closest pair and stepped away.

Camila handed her the towel and toothbrush, and Emily made a beeline for the bathroom. While she showered, Camila readied herself for bed and tried very hard not to think about Emily naked and wet less than ten feet away from her. When Emily emerged, Camila tried to keep her expression neutral, knowing that her thoughts were probably written all over her face, but it was hopeless.

Because Emily was framed in the light from the bathroom, her face in shadow but her eyes bright, her damp hair curling at the nape of her neck, and she was wearing Camila’s clothes, clothes that were too tight, that clung to every muscle in the most delicious way, and maybe she had some clothes in her closet that would have fit Emily a little better, but no one needed to know that.

She was so beautiful. Camila could hardly believe that she was real, that she was there in her apartment, that Emily was in her life, and yet she couldn’t have a taste of what she so desperately wanted.

“Feel better?” Camila asked, because she had to say something, because she had definitely been staring just a few seconds too long.

“Much better, thanks.” Emily’s face was flushed from the hot shower, and Camila wondered what she looked like first thing in the morning. “Should I leave this in the bathroom?” She was still holding the towel.

“I’ll take it,” Camila replied. She stepped toward Emily, trying to ignore the way she dropped her gaze to take in Camila’s black silk slip, her teeth dragging across her bottom lip, and oh, Camila thought how easy it would be to reach out and kiss her.

The air between them was electric, and when she reached to take the towel, their fingers lightly brushed. It almost made her shiver.

“Do you know where the guest bedroom is?” she said to break the spell. Emily nodded, and she breathed, “Goodnight, Emily,” in a voice too low, too obviously affected by her closeness.

“Sleep well.”

Camila knew she wouldn’t, knew that she’d be tortured by visions of Emily just down the hall, knew she was in for a restless night, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same.

“You too.”

The guest bedroom door clicked shut a moment later, and Camila let out a long breath.

God, she was so screwed.

Chapter 12

Emily woke early the next morning and slipped out of bed to use the bathroom. She was careful so as not to disturb the sleeping boy who had crawled in beside her in the middle of the night.

When she noticed that the light in the kitchen was on, she changed course. Camila stood at the counter, mug in hand as she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. She wore a huge fluffy dressing gown over her sleepwear and slippers on her feet. She had not yet made up her face. The image made Emily wish for her sketch pad so she could memorialize it.

Because bathed in the glow of the rising sun coming through the window, Camila was stunning, a vision so utterly captivating that Emily could not look directly at her.

“Emily.” Camila turned, and Emily hoped that she hadn’t been caught staring. “You’re up early. Are you feeling better?”

“Much,” she said, and grateful for it. Yesterday had been brutal, and she didn’t want to feel that way again anytime soon. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“You’re welcome. Do you want some coffee?”

“I think I’ll pass on the coffee,” she said, retrieving a bottle of water from the refrigerator instead.

“I assume my son is in your room?”

“Oh yeah.” Emily looked sheepish. “He knocked on my door early this morning, said he had had a nightmare. I couldn’t say no.”

“He can be very persuasive,” Camila agreed. “You can wake him, if you like.” The coffee machine beeped, and Camila filled her mug. “I’ll go get ready for the day ahead.”

Emily got dressed, painfully aware of the fact that she was wearing Camila Evans’s underwear. Then