I stare up at him in amazement. He’s totally serious. If I had any sense at all, I’d step away, laugh off his request, and wait for the next five minutes to tick by. But my sense has been fully eclipsed by my want to please him in any way that I can. Maybe he’s joking after all, but I’m not going to let this moment slip away between my fingers. I have to show Emerson Sawyer what I’m made of. It’s now or never.
“You have to turn around,” I whisper hoarsely.
His eyes spark with intrigued wonder. Slowly, silently, he pivots away from me. Keeping my eyes fixed firmly on his face to make sure he doesn’t peek, I reach up under my skirt and slip my thumbs under the elastic band of my panties. Thank god I thought to wear one of my sexiest pairs tonight. I don’t usually go for fancy underthings, but this black lace g-string is an exception. My breath comes hard and fast as I slowly lower my panties over my firm ass and thighs, balancing carefully as I ease them down. I step out of them, wobbling just slightly, and shiver as I feel the cool air against my sex. I can feel myself getting wet, standing so close to Emerson, bare and ready. God, I hope he won’t be able to tell. Unless he intends to make good on it, that is...
“Here,” I tell him, holding up the delicate lace g-string.
Emerson turns back to face me, looking taken off guard for the first time since I’ve known him. “Damn,” he murmurs, taking the panties carefully—almost reverently—from my hand. “There’s more to you than I thought, Abby.”
He called me Abby, not “Sis”, I think to myself, a grin spreading across my face. Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn’t such a terrible game after all...
“Now, my question is,” I begin, easing toward Emerson once more, “What do you intend to do with those?”
Those soft, sculpted lips part, ever-so-slightly, as he draws in a deep breath. “Well,” he starts, letting his blue eyes travel down the length of my body. “I can tell you what I’d like to—”
A shrill scream rings out from somewhere within the massive house, a wave of frantic noise building from below. The din rises, tearing my and Emerson’s attention away from each other. The pounding music cuts off abruptly, and through the cacophony ringing out beneath our feet, a new set of voices can be heard loud and clear.
“Police! Everybody out!”
“Break it up, break it up!”
“Anyone still here in five minutes is under arrest!”
“Fuck me,” I mutter angrily, shoving a hand through my blonde hair.
“Certainly no time for that now,” Emerson laughs roughly, playing off our intense moment. Or maybe I was just imagining that intensity? I’ll never know now.
I squint as bright light floods the closet once more. Someone’s ripped open the door, revealing the chaos unfolding in the master bedroom suite. Courtney is bawling frantically as everyone else makes a beeline for the exits. Emerson shoves my panties into his pocket just in time, before Riley darts into the closet to fetch us.
“We have to go!” she says firmly.
“How are we going to make it past the cops?” I ask worriedly. Running from the police isn’t exactly my strong suit. Luckily, Emerson is a bit more experienced on this front than I.
“Come on,” he commands, a daredevil smile spreading across his face as he takes my wrist in his hand.
Riley gives me a big wink as Emerson carts me away into the frenzy of escaping partygoers. We dive into the fray, the voices of police officers and drunken high schoolers commingling in a deafening clash. As we run along the second story landing, I watch as one incautious classmate takes a swing at a cop, then finds himself in handcuffs a moment later. I stay as close to Emerson as I can as he barrels through the crowd, protecting me from the surge of moving bodies. We careen into an empty bedroom and slam the door behind us, our chests heaving with exertion.
“Where did Riley go?” I ask, panicked.
“No time to look for her,” Emerson says gruffly, striding toward the bedroom window, “If I get arrested again, my mom’s gonna ship me off to the Army or something.” He wrenches open the window and kicks the screen clear out of the frame.
“Is that really necessary?” I hiss, as he peers out into the night.
“Jackpot,” he says, ignoring my question, “We can climb right down this trellis. And your dad’s place—sorry, our place—is close enough to make a run for it.”
“How am I supposed to keep up with you, Mr. Varsity Athlete?” I demand, planting my hands on my hips.
“Run fast,” he winks, swinging a leg over the window sill. I let out a frightening yelp as he disappears out the window, and rush forward to make sure he hasn’t fallen. I look on as Emerson dismounts gracefully onto the lush green grass below, looking up at me expectantly.
“I can’t do that,” I call down to him.
“You have to,” he insists, “Don’t be such a little chicken shit, Sis.”
“No. I mean, I can’t...” I trail off, blushing wildly, “You still have my. You know.”
A wild, raucous laugh rips out of Emerson’s throat as he remembers that my panties are still in his pocket. I’m totally commando. And wearing a skirt. Not exactly the best trellis-climbing attire.
“I promise I won’t peek,” Emerson says, getting a hold of himself. “Just come on.”
“No fucking way!” I reply, crossing my arms.
“Look. It’s either scamper down here, bare-assed, or get arrested. Your call,” Emerson shoots back. “I’m pretty sure your precious colleges won’t be thrilled with your having a criminal record.”
I bite my lip, glancing over my shoulder as the din of the raid reaches its peak. He’s right. I’m all out of options. “You have to close your eyes,” I tell him. “I mean it, Sawyer.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, screwing his eyes shut. “Get a move on, weirdo.”
A cool breeze brushes against my most intimate flesh as I scoot onto the window sill. As far as strange sensations go, this has to be up near the top. Checking once more to make sure Emerson’s eyes are really closed, I grab onto the vine-covered trellis beside the window. With a deep breath, I swing out into the open air. I’ve never been very good with heights, so this is not exactly my idea of a good time.