The Emma Series Book 3

AUSTIN

Even the exhilaration of my motorcycle couldn’t distract me from Tank.

Every woman in class was ogling his perfect body, and I was no exception.

And Blair? She was practically undressing him with her eyes, whispering to me about what she’d do to his cock, which she was convinced was as big as they come.

Hell, even my mind was wandering, imagining what he could do with all those muscles.

The only reason I agreed to dinner with him and his family was the promise of a good time at the end of the night.

I need a new man in my life, and who better than Tank?

Ever since I saw him at the club, he’s been on my mind non-stop. Just the thought of him between my legs has me all hot and bothered.

I need a cold shower, a beer, and another round with my vibrator to try and ease this sexual tension.

***

I’m jolted awake by the buzzing of my alarm clock.

Thoughts of Tank and the upcoming family dinner flood my mind.

Remembering that I need to text him my shoe and dress sizes, along with my address, I quickly send him the necessary information.

I find myself anxiously waiting for his response.

Since when do I care if a guy responds to a text or not?

Annoyed with myself, I throw off the covers and head to the shower, scrubbing my body hard, hoping it’ll help me forget about Tank.

After the shower, I dry off and dress in white skinny jeans, my Vans, and a yellow thin-strap top that accentuates my full breasts. I don’t bother with makeup or doing my hair.

I check my phone to see if Tank has replied. Nothing.

What the hell!

Glancing at the time, I see it’s just past nine in the morning. He’s probably at the gym.

Deciding to head to the club to do some paperwork and kill time, I grab my keys, leather jacket, phone, and bag. I quickly braid my hair and head out to my R1, hoping the ride will help me relax.

When I get to the club, I see Cal restocking the bar.

“Hey, Cal. How did it go with Harlow last night?”

“Hey, Boss. All good. The guys love her, and the women? They can’t get enough. She’s fitting in well. Oh, and a black box was delivered for you earlier. I left it in your office.”

“Thanks.”

Maybe Tank decided to have the dress and shoes delivered to the club instead of my home.

Walking into the office, I see the black box on my desk, wrapped with a red ribbon.

Judging by the size of the box, he definitely didn’t get the right size dress or shoes. It’s just too small and narrow.

A sense of unease washes over me. I approach the box cautiously, untie the red ribbon, and lift the lid. On top of the tissue paper is a note in a handwriting I recognize all too well.

My butterfly,

Did you really think I wouldn’t know where you are at all times?

See you soon.

GM

I drop the note on the floor and open the tissue paper to reveal a long-stemmed black rose, my favorite.

I grab the box and the rose, tearing them to shreds and dropping the mess on the floor.

I stuff the note in my bag and make a quick exit to my R1. I need to hit the open road for a few hours to clear my head.

How the hell did he find me? More importantly, what does he have planned for me now?

After calming down enough to function, I head back to my building. In the parking lot, I check my phone and see it’s almost four p.m. I have a text from an unknown number.

I save Tank’s number.

That’s it? Just a four-word text, hours after I sent my message?

He’s really getting on my nerves. Who the hell does he think he is?

And I still don’t have the damn dress or shoes.

Taking the elevator to my floor, I walk down the hallway and stop in front of my door. There’s a large square white box on the ground, tied with a black ribbon.

I squat down and yank the card from under the ribbon.

Austin,

The perfect dress to match your eyes.

Pick you up at six sharp. Don’t be late.

T

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, pick up the box, unlock the door, and kick it shut behind me.

As I head to my bedroom, I realize I forgot to lock the front door. I toss the box on my bed and rush back to lock it. How could I forget? I always make sure it’s locked when I get home.

Satisfied, I return to the box in my bedroom. Knowing it’s not another gift from him, I open it with more excitement than the first box I received today.

This box definitely doesn’t hold reminders of a past I’d rather forget.

I open the tissue paper and pull out an emerald-green dress. It has thin straps and a tight bodice that will surely highlight my breasts.

Holding it up, I see it’ll probably hit mid-thigh. It’s not something I would’ve picked for myself.

Also in the box are the most gorgeous silver stiletto shoes I’ve ever seen.

He does have good taste.

In the shower, I try and fail to wash away the day’s anxiety.

After the shower, I dry off and slather my body in my favorite vanilla lotion.

I slip into the green dress and put on a silver necklace and earrings. I apply my makeup, doing a smokey-eye with various shades of gray to bring out the color of my eyes, and finish the look with red lipstick.

I leave my long hair down and strap on the silver stilettos.

This look is totally out of my comfort zone.

Before I can dwell on it, there’s a knock on the door.

I swing the door open, already annoyed at having to wear this getup. But my annoyance evaporates faster than a puddle in the summer sun when I see what’s waiting for me.

Tank is standing there, decked out in black skinny jeans, black boots, a blue shirt that matches his eyes, and a blazer. His jet-black hair is a wild mess on his head, and a five o’clock shadow completes the ruggedly handsome look.

I realize my mouth is hanging open, probably drooling, and I shake my head to clear it of all the inappropriate thoughts I’m having about this hunk of a man in front of me.

“Ready?” he asks in a low, husky voice, letting my blatant staring slide.

“Yeah, just need to grab my phone and bag,” I reply.

He waits patiently while I lock up my apartment.

The elevator ride down is thick with unspoken desire.

Outside in the parking lot, he stops next to a black Hummer and opens the door for me.

For the first time in my life, I’m grateful for two things: my height, and the fact that his Hummer has a step I can use to climb in.

As I settle into the passenger seat, I notice Tank hasn’t closed the door yet.

Following his gaze, I see my dress has ridden up, revealing a good amount of thigh and highlighting my long, tanned legs.

Before I can adjust my dress, his hand lands on my exposed thigh.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to have these legs wrapped around me while I’m inside you later. You’re a beautiful woman, Austin,” he says, his grip on my thigh tightening.

I’m speechless. His touch is sending shockwaves through my entire body.

“We should get going, Tank, or we’ll be late,” I manage to stutter out.

“You’re right. My mother hates tardiness.”

He reluctantly removes his hand from my leg to close the door. I instantly feel the cold against my skin, missing his touch already.

He walks around to the driver’s side, gets in, and starts the engine. The powerful V6 roars to life. Pulling out of the parking lot, he heads towards downtown New York.

“Is there anything I should know about your mother?” I ask.

“No. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

I decide to stay quiet. The car fills with soft music, and we each retreat into our own thoughts.

A few minutes later, we pull up in front of a garage at a massive building. I see the sign for Club Bijoux, which is across the street from one of my favorite restaurants. I smile, relieved that we’ll be in a public setting.

Tank swipes a card, the garage door opens, and he drives the Hummer inside. The place is filled with expensive cars and motorcycles.

He parks the Hummer in an empty spot and comes around to open my door.

How gentlemanly of him.

He extends his hand to help me out, and we walk towards an elevator.

“Tank, I thought we were going to the restaurant across the street for dinner.”

“No, we’re not,” he replies curtly.

Deciding it’s better to stay quiet, I watch as he places his hand on a panel where the elevator buttons should be. It scans his hand and the elevator door opens.

He takes my hand in his again and pulls me inside, then punches in a code. The doors close and we start moving. We stop at a floor labeled “Private.”

Who the hell is this guy? And more importantly, who is his mother, and why does she need such high-tech security?

On the private floor, the door doesn’t open. Tank pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and punches in another series of codes.

What the hell?

Finally, the doors slide open, allowing us to exit.

Without a word, Tank opens the door to an apartment, revealing a stunningly decorated living room. The couches are white with red scatter cushions. A huge plasma TV hangs from the ceiling.

“Mom, we’re here,” Tank calls out.

A tall, slender woman with long black hair and piercing blue eyes approaches us from what I assume is the kitchen. She’s wearing a purple cocktail dress with black stilettos, and her makeup is flawless.

She gives me a polite smile. She looks incredibly familiar, but I can’t place her. She doesn’t look a day over thirty-five. How can she be Tank’s mother?

“Babe, your son has finally decided to show up. Get in here now,” she shouts, stopping in front of us.

“Jax, darling, I’m so happy to see you. Give your mother a hug.”

Tank wraps the woman in a bear hug, giving her a kiss on the cheek before stepping back.

Wait a second. Did she just say “Jax?”

“And this must be your date,” she says, turning to me. “I’m Jax’s mother, Emma—and here comes his father, Levi. Welcome to our humble abode.” She smiles again, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

All the color drains from my face.

Looking at Tank, stunned, all I can say is, “Your mother is fucking Emma Taylor?”