CHAPTER102
As much as I had wanted to go to bed and lie down, the full impact of my drunkenness hits me and fuels my desire to join the party. The lights on the deck glow beautifully in the dark, and the thrum of music from the speakers gives the yacht a romantic vibe. Leila has a tray of cocktails and they look too good. It’s then I find out she spent one summer here as a barmaid and has a wealth of knowledge of tasty drinks. Despite a super-rich family, it seems Leila is pretty self-sufficient at times. She loves nothing more than sharing anecdotes of her past experiences, and she has a humorous way of reliving the past.
“I should stop; I think I’ve had enough.” I try to reject Leila’s push of another drink as I’m barely upright anymore and should probably sit down. I’ve overdone it way more than I intended, and now it’s dark and the boat is moving all around me as though we are on a stormy sea.
“Hush now, we’re on vacation. Party, party, party!” She grins and tries once more, pushing a sassy choice of a cocktail my way.
“End up comatose or throwing up in my own shoes, you mean?” I sigh and sway, grabbing the rail for support.
“Your loss, sweet cheeks.” She turns and shrugs while swinging her impressive booty toward Richard with drinks in hand, giggling as she saunters off.
Jake is sprawled over one of the loungers, and he’s also hitting the booze, lazily watching us dance and chatter, occasionally joining in the conversation. His manner is slightly more relaxed than normal, if that is even possible. And despite seeming mostly okay, I can tell he’s at the top limits of his drunkenness.
I wonder who’ll be putting whom to bed tonight, and it makes me snigger; he’s so inviting on the double lounger, and I have the urge to curl up beside him and sleep right there.
“Come, bambina!” Jake’s eyes meet mine with a beckoning finger wiggle before he pats the lounger beside him suggestively. I aim to slide demurely onto the bed next to him but end up sprawled over the top instead after connecting with a chair leg, falling in the most ungraceful manner.
“Shit,” I gasp as his arms lasso me; he shifts so that my weight ends up beside him on the lounger, instead of on top of him, keeping me in his embrace and laying us both back. It’s comfy and warm from his body heat in the cooler night air, and I sink contently.
“Bit drunk there, Miss Anderson?” he chuckles at me, sounding boyish and happy, and I smile too.
Just charming.
“Sof course not”
What?
Okay, so maybe I’m a lot drunk.
He laughs into my hair, his mouth pressed to my temple as he slides his other hand across my neck and shoulder, and pulls me against him, cuddling me in easily.
“Glad to see you letting go,” he smiles, almost nose to nose with me. His warm breath on my face, with a heavy scent of alcohol, gives me an overwhelming sense of closeness, and my body tingles deliciously from head to toe.
“I think falling on top of your boss is more than letting go,” I giggle, relaxing into the sensation and surrendering to the sway around me, regaining the control of my vocabulary even if it’s slurring still.
“I’m not your boss for the next two weeks,” he winks, that handsome face close enough to touch with my tongue.
“Okay, I shall rephrase … falling on top of your temporary not-boss is overdoing it,” I chortle again, so light and free and a little bit silly. My hair blows gently across my face; he strokes it back, lingering, playing with its short new waves. I think he’s more than a little obsessed with the cut, and it makes me sigh adoringly. The sensation of having my hair played with is addictive when he’s the one doing it.
“Do you need me to put you to bed?” he asks, still focusing on twirling a strand. His face is really so close I can almost lick him without moving.
Stop it, Emma!
“Do I not need to put you to bed?” I slur again and bask in his laughter; he finds that highly amusing. I want to wrap myself up in that laugh; it’s so inviting and familiar.
“I’m sure I can handle way more alcohol than you, tiny.”
“I’m not so sure; I haven’t seen you walk yet,” I say, pointing at him with a drunk air jab. Being drunk can be pretty amazing at loosening me up and forgetting my Boss/PA boundaries.
“I’m sure after seeing you try that, it proves you’re worse than me,” he smirks down at me, finally letting my hair go, shifting his body weight and causing the bed dip slightly. The chatter of the others nearby has dropped down to a background hum, and I’m barely even aware of them anymore. It feels like it’s just the two of us.
“I like your dimples when you smile.” I prod his face and focus on his features a little too closely, distracted by them and how he never ceases to look gorgeous, no matter how long I have known him.
“And there she is.” He grins at me with a twinkle in his eye.
“There who is?” I ask in confusion, a frown creasing my forehead.
“Drunk Emma! How are you doing? I missed you, baby.” His dimples deepen cutely with the huge smile he’s giving me, sheer joy in that look.
“You missed drunk Emma?” I ask, blinking suspiciously, not jumping into the merry reunion vibe.
“I did.”
“Why? Do you like her more than me?” I pout with sad eyes, not even smiling when he laughs at me and shakes his head. A childish, surly mood instantly brews in my depths."
