CHAPTER72
I wake early the next morning lying on my back, completely entangled in Jake’s limbs on my side of the bed. He’s wrapped around me possessively, one arm around my waist pulling me into his abdomen so that his face is in the nape of my neck, the other arm bent behind me so his fingers are entwined in my hair above. His legs looped and twisted through mine so I’m immobile in every way, and I am stiflingly hot because he’s so naturally warm. I try to maneuver out of his grasp, but my efforts only cause him to pull me in tighter, making it nearly impossible to get out.
Who knew Jake was a cuddler in bed? More like a squeezer; suffocates all life out of you.
Although part of my brain isn’t surprised, because he’s so hands-on and touchy-feely in every part of waking life that I guess being this way in sleep is a given. I lie still, staring at the dark ceiling for a moment, listening to the heaviness of his deep breathing. He seems so peaceful, and being held this way is comforting. I feel cherished and safe. I have never slept with a man, even my ex-boyfriends never spent the night, so this is new and strangely nice. I am at ease.
It dawns on me slowly that my usual night terrors didn’t wake me today, instead, the sound of car alarms outside did. Having Jake sleep with me kept them at bay, despite the events yesterday with Ray Vanquis. A little rush of affection swamps me at the thought that he can keep me safe even from my own dreams, and my body heats with awe.
I glimpse across at the alarm clock on my mother’s side table and see it’s only 5.00am. I don’t need to get up anytime soon but now I’m wide awake. I try to wriggle to my side to get comfier, managing it very slowly before Jake shifts in his sleep, releasing me for a second. I quickly turn before he’s hauling me back into him in a spoon hold. His body behind me, both arms coming around me snugly, one leg lifting over mine and pulling them against his, so I am literally pulled in tight once more, and my butt is nestled in his groin.
For the love of God, Jake!
I wonder how many poor teddy bears in his childhood died this way. I can barely move again as he’s managed to pin my arms against my chest, his nose nuzzled into the back of my neck so his breath tickles my skin below the collar of my oversized night shirt. I wonder at this position, how I’m completely relaxed, no warning signals going off in my brain, no fear or awkwardness, no nerves, because it’s Jake, and with Jake that all stopped a long time ago.
“Emma,” Jake mutters in his sleep, and I still to listen. I wonder what he’s dreaming about and wonder if it’s a dream that has him grasping onto me for dear life. It would explain the death grip. I gasp as his hold tightens a bit too firmly.
“I’ll kill him!” he growls into my hair, and his body tenses; my heart constricts, causing a wave of fear to wash over me. He’s dreaming about Vanquis; I know he is. Maybe that’s why he has been wrapped around me all night, holding me close, protecting me, more affected by it than I was, evidently.
I wriggle my arms free of his vice like grip and try to pull them loose so I can breathe; it really is like being squeezed by an octopus, its limbs wrapped all around me trying to expel the air from my body. I pull at his naked forearms managing to expand the space around my ribs just enough to take a breath. Circling his wrists, I pull some more, releasing myself just enough to sag away from his body a few inches. I glance back at his sleeping face; his T-shirt has ridden up showing off the sculpted abdomen and the start of his tattoos on the side of his ribs. He really is the ultimate specimen of man. In every detail.
I turn completely around to face him, still held firmly in his embrace. I study his face, the shadow of his ever-present stubble and the chiseled features that grace magazines frequently. He’s perfection in every line and curve. Thick eyebrows, and eyelashes so dark they’re almost black, urge me to reach up and trace his sleeping features with my fingertips. I’m shocked by the intensity of it and try to move away to give myself some breathing space.
My movement away from him triggers another sleepy reaction, and he reaches out to me, his eyes still closed, his face still relaxed in slumber. His hand grazes my breast on its way to my throat; he cups my jaw and pulls me forward so we’re nose to nose, and he exhales softly. Our mouths are only a hairbreadth apart, his forehead against mine, and we inhale the same air. My body jumps into high alert, my breath held from the moment his fingers grazed the intimate parts of my chest, and I’m tingling with so many sensations that I can’t explain what I’m feeling.
The fact that his action was innocent quells any fear; there’s no panic in my response, no fluttering stomach. Instead, the intimacy is sending me haywire.
Without thought, I lean up gently and kiss his mouth lightly, a slight touching of the lips, almost chaste. I don’t know what makes me do it. I’ve no reasoning or thought in my head, only this need to feel his mouth on mine. His soft, warm, full lips enticed me for just a moment to see how it felt again, pushed on by the proximity and gentle warmth of his breath against my own. My body reacts low down inside, spreading heat through my pelvis and shivers down my legs.
I’m playing with danger, and trepidation is beginning to rise within me, fear at my own reaction to him. He smells familiar, his mouth too alluring. I peck him on the lips again, only slightly firmer this time, urged on by something inside of me. But this time he responds, his mouth parting slightly, and he kisses me back, pushing his own mouth to mine.
I freeze. My heart rate escalates into a frenzy, and I hold still, very, very still. He doesn’t open his eyes or move, just inhales heavily indicating he’s still asleep.
Crap. What the hell am I doing?
I try to move away, no longer able to trust myself, but his hand on my jaw tenses and pulls my face forward as he sinks his lips to mine. It’s tender at first, my heart pounding, my head spinning, every part of my body responds with a vengeance. I open my mouth to his advance as his hand slides down to my breast once more, lying over it and cupping it while my body sizzles under his palm. His lips move against mine seductively, kissing me, no tongues but it feels like the most erotic thing in the world.
Jake kisses exactly as I expected him to: mind-blowing and experienced. His mouth matches mine in soft, grazing movements making me lightheaded, and my breathing turns shallow. I allow my hands to wander up to his face and trace his square jawline softly, bringing us closer together. He feels so good! His face is so firm, and I want this more than I should. I let myself move into the touch and let it continue, lost in how he feels and tastes.
His hand moves down boldly, curling behind my butt, and pulls me into his groin, making it clear he’s aroused, his hard body pressing into my pelvis. I groan involuntarily, closing my eyes tighter, letting him take control, ignoring the little voices in my head trying to pull me away. His lips part further, pressing into mine, and his tongue slides into my mouth setting me alight with passion, deepening it. It’s erotic and intense; the sensation causes my stomach to flutter and flip. He tastes like heaven, and for minutes I’m lost to what we are doing, all reason floating away. His tongue feels divine, and I respond with a longing I never knew I was capable of as his arms come around me suggestively, breath hitching between us.
One hand releases me to latch onto my thigh, pulling me further up the bed, and putting it around his waist, grinding our pelvises together. He maneuvers over me, his body weight pressing down and our groins rammed snugly against one another. I can feel everything, my body sizzling with the sensations and my breathing shallow and fast. Passion ignited fully, his hands and arms cage my head, and my own fingers cup his jaw, pulling him closer, mouths fully intertwined, his stubble grazing my soft face.
Hell!
I know where this will head, in the darkness, escalating the way it is, our bodies moving against each other in the first throes of foreplay. I know I won’t have the strength to say no or stop it. He is causing cravings I have never experienced, a low, deep, throbbing heat and the desire to have him satisfy my hunger. His kiss is too addictive to want to stop. I instinctively know that these urges are a longing to have sex, something I’ve never felt before, something so new and so overpowering. The apex of my thighs hard against him is almost on fire, and waves of desire pulse up to my stomach.
He rubs against me also breathing heavily, his kiss becoming urgent, shifting the gear from erotic passion into searing lust. Our tongues are caressing one another in an intense motion; he knows how to seduce my mouth in ways that has me gasping for more, the taste of him exquisite. It’s like we just know instinctively how to come together, how to kiss each other. A perfect fit. He’s the first man I have ever wanted to do this to me, and he lets me lose myself in him. My first French kiss ever, it’s beyond heavenly. I moan out softly, lost in this. My hands are in his hair and nails raking down the back of his neck and over his shoulders, feeling him out.
Every alarm bell in my brain starts going crazy, deafening me as the realization dawns on me, and the lust fueled haze subsides a little. I’m on the verge of complete surrender or complete panic, my body ready to self-combust, starting to come to terms with what the hell I am doing, when he just stops. With an instant halt to all of it, he pulls away.
He moves back off me, rolling to his side, resting his face against me, his body relaxing fully. He mumbles something incoherent and returns to deep heavy breathing, while I pause and wait, scared to move or breathe, and realize he has been asleep this whole time. I’m lying here panting and heaving, and he’s just, well, he’s sleeping! I blanche and stare at his profile in disbelief.
It wasn’t real!
He’s dreaming and acting out in his slumber, sleep walking in a way. I’m confused, disappointed, but also relieved, and yet conflicted. He’ll never know what we did; he’ll have no memory of it. I’m not sure if I want this or not. I have no clue what the hell I’m doing, or even thinking.
I think about kissing him again, trying to rouse him properly, but don’t. Instead, I slide free and get out of bed, aware of just how close I was to screwing everything up with him. Despite being completely captive to how kissing him felt, it’s as though I’ve broken some line of trust, that I’ve abused him in his sleep, and it makes me feel disgusting and vile, no better than my mother’s perverted lovers and what they did to me. I climb out of bed and get up quickly in a rush to put distance between us and cool my overheated senses.
I wander into the living room, shaking and unsure what to feel. I’m angry and so confused.
Why would I kiss him like that? It’s Jake! I have no excuse. I wasn’t drunk; I wasn’t half asleep. Maybe it was the shock? But that kiss … Oh, my god … that kiss!
It must be the shock of everything from yesterday: the episode with my mother, then with Vanquis, and now here is Jake, my savior, my protector, the hunk of the Carrero empire. I am a woman after all! I can see why my body would respond to him that way. He is gorgeous in every way and, despite my issues with my past, I am still capable of being turned on. By him anyway. And that kiss is something no woman could deny.
I shouldn’t have touched him that way. I crossed the line, and I’m glad he never woke up to realize what we were doing."
