CHAPTER145
Is that what he does? Screws and then forgets it? Is this who he is? Why am I shocked at this? I know that’s who he is; I’ve seen it a million times.
“Fuuuck … Emma,” he groans dropping his face into his hand, rolling onto his back away from me once more. It sounds like he’s asking God for strength as he pushes up and moves away completely, jumping to his feet and stalking off toward the bathroom to deal with the condom. I turn away; I don’t want to see him naked. Not now, not ever again.
I leap up, fully submerged in emotional madness and regret, and run to my room. I slam the door, locking it behind me, and brace myself against it, panting, unable to reel in the chaos inside of me. The beginnings of a panic attack overwhelm me.
I let him kiss me. I let him have sex with me. I let him touch me in places with his mouth no one ever has. How can I go back to normal after this? How can I just rewind and delete what happened? It’s monumental. It changes everything between us; how I feel about him.
A minute later he pounds the door behind me violently, causing me to jump and hold the handle tightly. My heart races in sudden fear. I just can’t face him.
“Emma, open the fucking door.” He sounds livid.
“No.” If I do, I’ll break, and I can’t break; I must stay strong. I need to put distance between us until I can get a grip on what we’ve done.
“You’re being childish; we need to talk about this.” He’s enraged, and it just closes me down more.
“Why?” I spit. So he can inform me that it’s casual sex, and I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.
Is this the chat he has with every woman he fucks?
“For God’s sake, this is the fucking problem with you, Emma. You’re like a fucking swing door.” He raps the wood with a slap, and I jump, still clinging to the handle.
What the hell does that mean? He’s the one with the crazy moods and bad temper.
I glare at the door and flinch away when he pounds on it again. My body is a trembling bag of nerves at his reaction.
Seriously, Jake!
“Open the door or I’ll fucking kick it in.” He is beyond mad and sounds terrifying. I’m scared; I’ve never known him this insane. Jake has never intimidated me before in this way, except maybe the night he beat Ray, but now I’m shaking so badly I think I may throw up or pass out. I believe him that he will kick the door in; he’s strong enough. And angry enough. It makes me pale. Memories of a thousand angry men flit through my brain as my blood runs cold, and I shrink back.
“Jake, you’re frightening me,” I cry out desperately, my voice overtaken with emotion, tears stinging my eyes. My body trembles as I revert to teen Emma. He seems to still for a long drawn out pause.
“Open the door. Please.” He switches to talking through gritted teeth, lowering his voice as though he’s trying to quell his temper and soften, but he’s still so pissed.
The shrill tone of our room door buzzer goes off, and he curses, only quieter, as though he’s turned his face away from my door.
Go away, Jake.
I silently pray.
“Emma, open the door, for the love of God.” His voice is calmer, yet still booming through at me.
“Someone’s at the door, Jake.”"
