CHAPTER87
Why am I even asking this? God! I’ve become as nosey as him! And as inappropriate!
“No. No ‘man problems’, Emma. Don’t worry, my libido is still intact and waiting for you to name the place. Why are you so interested in my lack of sexual partners?” he asks, shaking his head and locking eyes with mine, finally being direct.
“It’s just … I’ve worked for you for a while now, and it’s the first time there’s been a lull in … playtime,” I answer, my skin on fire, and I suddenly wish I’d never started this line of interrogation. I am practically squirming with awkwardness.
Why do I care so much anyway?
“You’re keeping tabs? Little bit jealous, maybe?” he smirks at me, a twinkle in those alluring eyes.
“No!” I flush and realize my cheeks are flaming now; I must be bright red. He’s smirking at me as he moves me around in time to the music and pulls me against his chest so we’re resting easily cheek to cheek, giving me a break from the interrogation. Instead, I’m enveloped by his warmth against my face. He moves my body against his expertly, slowly swaying us.
“I just need a little break from demanding, stroppy women; even casual sex can be a hassle,” he shrugs flatly.
“I see. So, am I just the stand in date from now on then?” I ask seriously, a tingle of annoyance at that fact.
“Never! You’re always my number one girl.” He throws me a mock shocked look as though I’ve offended him. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. I don’t think I’ve seen you warm to a single female I’ve dated,” he states as a matter of fact, then spins me and brings me back to his face, tipping his chin down so his nose grazes my shoulder when he pulls me in. His breath fans my naked skin in this strapless dress, and it gives me goosebumps all over. It’s a little red number and far too molded to my body for my liking. He presses his ear against my ear intimately, the new position meaning my face is almost buried in his shoulder and neck, closer than moments before. I’m a little breathless, and to anyone watching, this is not a platonic pose, especially as this dress is all cleavage, and Jake’s looking directly into it.
“I didn’t know I was meant to warm to any of them,” I stumble over the words, conscious of the fact I’m suddenly lightheaded and overly aware of how well our bodies fit together and how sexual this feels.
“You’re not. It’s up to you; either you like them or you don’t. It doesn’t matter … not one of them is permanent.” He moves back to his previous hold, giving me some breathing room again, and I exhale with relief. He lifts his hand from my waist and waves at someone behind me then returns it back to its warm spot on my body, pulling me in a little closer if that is possible. I’m practically part of his body like this.
“What do you see in them?” I’ve mulled this over every time I’ve met one, never seeing the connection, and I can’t stop asking these dumb questions. He raises his eyebrow, followed by a smile which says, “Really?”, and I feel stupid.
Okay, so he’s a man! And they’re all drop dead gorgeous with scantily covered, lithe bodies, and huge boobs; every one has been stunning, in that fake, plastic over-manicured way.
“I mean besides that?” I falter drily.
“Nothing, hence why they’re all temporary. None have your cute little face, perfect figure, or sexy little personality.” He throws me another flirty grin. I think eye-rolling has become my most used facial expression since meeting him and his cheesy lines.
“So, another deliberate move by smooth Mr. Carrero then?” Another premeditated gameplay? Maybe we’re not so different after all, both controlling our lives so fluidly.
“Pretty much.” The music tempo changes slightly but it’s still a slow song. He lifts my hand in his a bit higher, checks his watch, then puts his arm back to its previous position. He’s getting bored being here, all the Jake signs coming out. We’ll be leaving soon at this rate, but I want to know …
“So, you avoid women that you might actually want to make more permanent?” I press on like a dog with a bone.
“Mmm-hmmm, makes sure I don’t get too involved. Waiting on you to hurry up and confess undying love, bambina.” He winks at me and flexes his eyebrows knowingly.
“You’re exhausting, you know that?” I sigh again, exasperated by him at times. “So? What is your type if it’s not leggy boobs with killer nails?” I push, smiling shyly, but determined. His eyes flicker to me seriously for a moment, then he shrugs.
“Someone real. Maybe short, blonde, blue eyed with a name like Emma.” His grin is over the top, full on charming Carrero, and I resist the urge to bop him on the head. He’s never serious about this stuff. Ever! I exhale heavily.
“More real than fake boobs and Botox, you mean?” I ignore the comments about me, despite the little elevated heartbeat that has erupted, and swipe them aside as another joke.
“Something like that.” His short answers are starting to drive me slowly insane; I think he’s deliberately trying to be obtuse and pull a reaction from me.
“You’re not giving much away,” I pout, a little huffily.
“What do you want to know exactly? I thought I already described the perfect woman. Did I forget pushy and nosy?” He spins me again and now, back in his arms, I’m able to see his face properly, but he’s avoiding eye contact.
“If I believed you for one minute, Carrero! What’s your type if you wanted more than just sex? Brunette, redhead, short, curvy? What?”
He frowns down at me, spins me under his arm, and quickly pecks me on the cheek as if to say, “Shut up”.
“It’s not so much about looks, Emma. She would be someone I can hang out with, who doesn’t bore me. Someone with an IQ larger than her bust size.”"
