Opposed to Callan and Gideon, I lived in a simple house in Washington Heights. Sure, my place might be considered expensive, but it didn't measure to those two's homes. I've never liked pomp and pageantry, having grown up in a mansion too big for a kid; it only ever felt empty. Some part of me wanted the opposite of what my father had, which this place definitely was. Another positive thing about this place: my father refused to step foot in it because it was below his standards.

My house was light and homey, with an open floor plan. There were personal touches to the rooms; art, books, a few plants, basically anything that held an interest to me. Father had all of those things too, but for him, they had been accessories and not something he actually enjoyed.

In my friend group, I was considered the least complicated person, in the sense that I didn't need much to be happy. If I got to feed my urges–dominating, had a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a job I loved– I was good. The only thing that could make it perfect was if we ever found our slave, but that was the only thing missing.

This house was all I ever wanted when I was growing up– a home. Not some hollow place with too many empty rooms and that gave out an echo whenever you tried to talk.

I helped Emma out of the car and walked her to my door, holding one arm around her while I unlocked the door with the other.

Emma's eyes widened as we stepped inside, taking in every detail of the entrance. After taking off my shoes, I helped her out of hers. She didn't even blink when I went down on my knee to slide her heels off, too busy inspecting the room.

It looked like she had regained some of her strength but still held on to me as we walked further in. It felt surreal to have her in my home but in the best kind of way. I never brought home women. If I needed to fuck, I either did it at the club or at her house– I didn't want any of them here. Emma was different.

"This is where you live?" She sounded surprised, and I could understand that. My home wasn't really the norm for someone with more money than God.

"Yeah, I can give you a house tour tomorrow, but right now, you need to sleep. Do you want anything to drink? I can bring up a glass of water. I have sparkling water as well if you'd prefer that instead?" Shit, why was I suddenly so nervous? Emma was the first woman I'd ever brought home, and I was at a loss as to how to act. The only time I needed to play host was if any of the guys or my sister visited. Still, the guys were practically family and made themselves at home, taking drinks or food whenever they felt like it. Same as my sister did.

She shook her head. "I'm all good. Where's your bathroom?"

"Come on, and I'll show you." I guided her up the stairs and down the hall, hesitating between two doors. Fuck, should I give her my guest room–

"Am I sleeping with you, or...?" Emma followed my train of thoughts, and I chuckled at the absurdity that a woman had gotten me this insecure. I was Mateo fucking Wright, not some pussy boy.

Get your head straight, man.

"I have a guest room if that would make you more comfortable." This was the second time I wanted to punch myself. I wanted her in my bed, sleeping next to me, so why did I even suggest the other room?

"Can I... can I sleep with you? I don't want to be alone right now." Thank God.

"Of course," I said, mentally–I was grinning like an idiot.

I steered her to my bedroom and opened the door. "Through there is the bathroom." I waved in the direction opposite where the bed was. "I have a new toothbrush under the sink. If you want a shirt to sleep in, you can take whatever you find in the closet. I'm just going downstairs to check on the alarm."

"Thanks." She smiled sweetly at me and trudged towards the closet in search of something to sleep in. I couldn't help but lean against the door frame and look at her. She really did look great in red.

The moment she came into the room at the restaurant, she'd blown my mind. She looked like a sexy vixen or a goddess sent to earth to tease the living shit of all the men.

It was hard to leave her and walk downstairs, if only for a couple of minutes. Even though she said no to water, I filled up a cup just in case she would change her mind. I activated the alarm and made sure we were safe and sound.

Emma was in bed by the time I made my way back upstairs. Completely drained, she was already asleep. After placing the cup by her nightstand, I stopped and looked down on her. Fuck, she was beautiful; her face was relaxed, and it looked like an innocent angel had taken place in my bed. She'd washed off her makeup, making her look more... soft, but also more beautiful.

I tiptoed to the bathroom and went about my business. Taking a quick shower, I rubbed one off, having been turned on ever since I first saw Emma this evening. I didn't want to be a creep with a hard-on in bed with her, though that would probably still happen. What could I say? I couldn't control what my dick did.

Normally, I had a single toothbrush in the cupholder, but this time another had joined mine. I liked that, and I liked it even more that it was hers.

Drying my body, I tied the towel around my hips and walked out of the bathroom. I dressed in clean boxers before I carefully opened the blanket and laid down beside her, doing my best not to wake her up.

With her next to me, I thought sleep would be hard to find. I was so hyper-focused on her, each movement she made, the heat of her body so close to mine. But no, instead, the steady sound of her breathing lulled me faster to sleep than anything else.

My last conscious thought was that this woman here was something special. I just didn't know how special– not yet, at least.