Mr. Remington Got Me Pregnant novel Chapter 22

Emery’s POV

There wasn’t a dramatic apology, no tearful monologues. And, honestly, I was okay with that.

We didn’t talk about what happened to us that night but I know something changed. Maybe it made us more comfortable with each other.

Some days, Landon stayed the night in my apartment, but it wasn’t romantic. We didn’t fall into each other like some big Hollywood reunion.

We watched a movie on the couch, half of it, anyway, and I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder.

When I woke up, he was still there, barely breathing, like he was afraid to move.

The next morning, he drove me to the school where I taught. Didn’t say much, just held the door open and waited until I was inside before pulling away.

“Take care. I’ll pick you up later,” he bid his goodbye and I just nodded and waved my hand.

And at 4:00 p.m. sharp, I spotted his car parked across the street. He just waited.

We had dinner that night, grilled cheese and tomato soup, because that was all I could stomach. He didn’t complain. Didn’t suggest takeout or fancy restaurants.

Just helped slice the cheese and stood next to me like it was the most normal thing in the world.

After the dinner, I walked Landon to the door. We need to be separated again. He needs to go back to his apartment.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked.

I bit my lip, thinking that it would be good, but I was tired, and I still didn’t want to open my heart that much. “Maybe next time.”

“Then… just give me a goodnight kiss. To make my sleep better.” I chuckled softly before leaning in, pressing my lips to his.

It started simple, warm and unhurried. But as our mouths moved together, something inside me cracked open. His hand cupped my jaw, then slid into my hair, deepening the kiss until it was all tongue and soft gasps.

My hand clutched the front of his shirt, anchoring myself to him.

When his other hand brushed the side of my thigh, I didn’t flinch, didn’t even breathe. He slowly dragged his fingers under my jeans, up my bare skin, stopping just at the edge of my panties.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against my mouth. “And I would.”

But I didn’t and he kissed me again, slower this time, then trailed his lips to my neck. His fingers moved gently, tracing over the damp heat between my thighs through the thin fabric.

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