CHAPTER103
“You are drunk Emma.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just Emma. Drunk Emma is …” I’m confused, and I’ve no idea what I’m saying. He’s laughing at me again, and it’s infuriating my sulky side. “Why are you laughing? I’m being serious!” I scowl at him and cross my arms over my chest. He prods my nose playfully.
“Both Emmas are you; they just choose to come out at different times. You’re cute when you pout.” He prods me in the face lightly again, before pinching my nose like I’m some sort of juvenile.
“Why do you like her more?” I slap his hand away. I’m being sulky, and I can tell by the humorous glint in his eyes he’s finding me entertaining. It does nothing to help my somber state of mind on this topic. If anything, it just adds to it and the fire of outrage in my belly.
“How can you not love this version of you?” He wraps his arms tighter around me, pulling me closer, and plants a kiss on my cheek, just shy of the corner of my lips. Snuggling his head into the crook of my neck, he maneuvers my body to mold into his, so we almost become one.
“Pffft, I don’t love her then.” I try and wriggle free.
“Because I do?” He has a permanent smile on his face now, but as alluring as it is, I’m still frowning.
“Yes!”
“That makes no sense.” He ignores my dash for freedom and holds on.
“Yes, it does! If you like her so much, she must be a leggy bimbo,” I huff and make another attempt at squirming before giving in and slumping instead.
“I already told you, I don’t actually like leggy bimbos, Emma.” He closes in on me, nose to nose. His smile vanishes, his eyes instantly serious and dark. His focus moves across my face and rests on my mouth for a long moment. I pause, breath held, before he gives me a slight frown, a chew of his bottom lip, then he glances back at my eyes with a sigh, moving back again.
“I don’t believe you.” I almost gulp at the nervous reaction I’m having to whatever that look was, and the way it sent my insides into twisted chaos, my heart rate elevated.
“Well, that’s your prerogative.” He softly smiles this time, his mouth moving dangerously close to me again, achingly close. I swear I get a vibe that he means to kiss me, but then we hear a noise on deck.
We glance over to see Daniel stripping off Miracle’s clothes in a rather smutty fashion. Jake frowns and pulls me up quickly to his side on the lounger, breaking our moment of tension.
“Time for bed,” he says, “I know what Daniel’s like; showtime equals go-time!” His voice is grim and tight, all humor gone as he hurries me.
“What’s he like? What do you mean, ‘showtime’?” I honestly don’t know, and as I’m being pulled up like a child, I can’t help but stare at the couple.
“He likes kinky sex. He’s an exhibitionist, doesn’t matter if you’re male or female. He’ll try and pull you in; he has no qualms about fucking in front of an audience.” He hauls me to my feet as I inhale sharply, staring over at the man and his bimbo porn star in wide-eyed shock.
That’s so gross. I hope Leila has the sense to get out quick.
Richard and Leila get up knowingly and move to loungers away from Daniel. Thank goodness.
“Would you join in?” I squeak in surprise, a sudden swift knock inside my stomach that hurts like hell. I don’t like the thought of Jake doing that with them, with anyone.
“No, it’s not my thing, Emma.” Jake narrows his eyes at me, a deep frown on his forehead as relief washes over me, and he pulls me by the hand, a small tug to break my focus on Daniel.
“You said you did it on your dad’s boat when you were younger, group … stuff,” I accuse shyly, thinking back to an old conversation a long while ago when he was drunk.
“Who do you think was at the root of that?” He raises an eyebrow toward Daniel and pulls me with him to the stairs leading to lower deck. I don’t argue, just follow.
“So, you liked it then?” I ask, casting my eyes back once more as Marissa gets up and begins a slow strip tease, her eyes following us. Jake ignores her, and I get a wave of happiness at this fact. He shrugs and slides his arm around me as he leads me down the stairs, slowly and carefully so I don’t fall to the next floor, guiding me. On the second to bottom step, he pulls tight and lifts me off my feet to the floor.
“I was young; it was just sex. I was pretty much partying and pissing my dad off at every turn,” he explains. I stumble on the carpeted floor, and he rights me, holding me close. I notice him sway a little as we head through the door to the internal hall of the boat, indicating he isn’t much more sober than I am. I’m glad he’s leaning against me though; I’m finding it so much harder to walk than I realized.
“You don’t do group sex anymore?” I hiccup, hating myself for saying it."
