127
“I … I …” I can’t get the words out and fall to pieces in a flood of sobs. I’ve been waiting so long to have him feel this way about me. It’s all too much, and the dam breaks. He wraps himself around me, burying his face in my hair, his strength and power holding me where I need to be. I could lose myself completely to him and know I’d always be safe, held like this.
“Don’t cry, Bambina. Please, Emma, I didn’t think telling you I loved you would cause this.” He sounds ravaged, his voice torn with emotion, too, while I cling to him as though I’m adrift in the sea and he’s my lifeline. “Say something …”
“I … love … you,” I sniff and sob incoherently, feeling his body relax. He pulls my face from his chest, lifting my chin and kissing me softly. Savoring the touch, so gentle and perfect, sets me off again. Like an erratic, overemotional woman on her period, I burst into tears, just shy of wailing like a cat.
“Jesus, Emma. If I’d known this was how it would be, I would’ve brought some tissues and a lot of chocolate,” He grins at me, fingers tangling in my hair, and I giggle through my tears, leaning against him again. He can always make me laugh, despite everything, despite the sheer deep emotion of what we’re doing and saying. Here we are, smiling.
“They’re happy tears,” I sniff back with waves of emotion, trying to regain some composure. Digging in my purse for tissues, I find nothing to stop the rivulets of mascara pouring down my cheeks.
“Should I be crying too, then?” he smiles, wiping my cheek with his thumb, trying to dry my face with his jacket sleeve to dab the worst away. He’s caging me against the wall with one of his arms, lowering his face to stay close to me.
“I don’t think I want to see you cry,” I smile up at him feebly through watery eyes, experiencing a rush of warmth as he delivers another soft kiss to my mouth. I could let him do this for an eternity and never tire of it.
“Good. I’m not much of a crier, and you’re doing a grand enough job for the both of us. I’m happy, though; you have no idea. I never thought we’d get here. I didn’t think this was how you felt about me.” He rests his brow against mine, tracing my face with his fingers, breathing so closely. This time I lean up and kiss him, feeling brave enough to do it, knowing he loves me. It ignites into a more passionate kiss, with his hand sliding behind my neck and his tongue searching out the warmth of my mouth. We both groan and sag against each other. Sexual tension ignites with ferocity, and he pulls away, sucking my lower lip slowly and gently. We lock on one another through heavy lids steeped in lust.
“If we keep doing this, I promise you I won’t be a gentleman for much longer,” he warns with the softest voice, his eyes glued to my lips. I’m fascinated by how his mouth looks so right, surrounded by fashionable stubble and his chiseled jawline, slightly blushed from kissing.
“Oh, I always knew you weren’t a gentleman,” I jest, biting my lip, unable to tear my gaze from his mouth either.
You’re perfection.
“Hey! I’ve been very well-behaved. You have no idea the thoughts that went through my head concerning you.” He catches my wrists and pins them over my head with one hand, his other sliding up from my waist and along my ribs suggestively.
“None of that surprises me, you and your ex-rated mind. I always knew you had Casanova tendencies.” I tremble with shivers as his touch ignites feelings inside me that are equally ex-rated, and I tense my thighs together to fight insane urges.
“Sassy!” He plants a swift kiss on my lips and then leans back to continue watching me. He lets my hands go and whispers, “You’re beautiful, and you’re all mine!” We smile at one another, then he quickly delivers another lip-grazing kiss, trying it out, enjoying the fact that he can, and I can see kissing becoming his number one hobby after tonight. Maybe mine too.
“I’m still mad at you.” I push my palms up his abdomen and slide them over his chest, exploring, feeling able to roam freely and braver than I have ever felt before.
“I don’t blame you, Bella,” he frowns, “I’m mad at me too.” There’s a tinge of regret in his eyes as he brings a hand down and smooths my hair behind one ear, stopping to play with the delicate diamond cluster earring, his eyes focused on it as he moves it around gently.
“Makes a change from being mad at me, I guess,” I smirk. I’ve finally gained control of my emotions again, as much as I can, after a love confession from the man of my dreams. He stares at me for long, agonizing moments, his eyes locked on mine, taking in every detail of my face, his expression unreadable.
“I only got mad at you because of how I felt about you, Emma. I didn’t know how to behave around you or deal with all this crap inside of me. It was ripping me apart. Overemotional men are just snarky shits,” he softly smiles.
So, all those times he seemed so crazy pissed off at me … all came down to this? Surely not?
“I get mad at you because you’re an asshole sometimes; nothing to do with emotions or love,” I smile and glance at him shyly. He breaks into another heartthrob smile, and I can’t resist running my fingers across his mouth again. He moves into my touch, igniting my love of being able to touch him like this freely. It feels like I’ve died and awoken in a heavenly place.
“We need to make this work,” he breathes. “I can’t walk away again. I don’t want to. This past month has been unbearable, like I had my insides wrenched out,” he says, his voice strained.
His confession is sobering. Rosalie was right; Jake had been missing me as much as I was missing him, and I can’t believe we have been suffering apart silently.
Jake loved me. All that denial and second-guessing him was for nothing.
“Are you asking me to be your PA again?” I ask quietly, bravely, soothed by the knowledge he’s had the same pain I’ve had when we were apart, a pang of hope rising in my chest.
I’ve no idea how that’ll work now; things are so different.
“I’m asking for way more than that, Mio Tesoro.” His voice softly caresses me, his fingers still in my hair, sensually moving over my scalp, sending shivers of desire through me.
“Tell me what you want from me. Be specific.” My inner strength takes a step forward, and I know I need him to say it.
Be brave, Emma. Stop hiding and put all the cards on the table. Sarah said we didn’t ever lay it all out. Well, here we are.
I need him to be straight with me. I need to hear him, to hear him tell me what he wants from me. No more second-guessing.
“I want you … all of you,” he breathes, “I want us. Just you and me and no one else. No games, no hiding, no more misunderstandings. I want you to be the woman I share my bed and life with. I want a real relationship with you, Bambina.”
I’ve never seen Jake so open, honest, and … raw … in my life. I know the fear and the trepidation in his eyes because this is just as huge as it is for me, with his brokenhearted past and his need to keep women at arm’s length for fear of being hurt. And here he is, offering all of himself to me. I throw myself into him, sliding my arms around his waist, holding tight as my heart gushes with love and his arms tighten around me.
This is everything; this is what’s meant for me. I love him so much I can barely breathe.
“I want that too,” I whisper as his hand comes up into the back of my hair, fingers entangling to hold me tight.
“You better not be crying again.” His voice is laced with humor, and I lean back, shaking my head, face dry but mouth wide with a happy smile.
“No tears … Scout’s honor.” I attempt a salute and watch Jake shake his head at me pitifully. He pushes my hand down with a frown and kisses my forehead with a ‘nice try’ look.
“This … us … it’s really happening?” Jake suddenly looks so young and vulnerable, tipping his head back and letting his eyes run over my face as though he has regressed ten years.
“It looks that way,” I manage, entangling his fingers with mine, tugging his hand against my chest to feel his skin on mine, becoming greedy with the need to stay connected.
“You may need to pinch me a couple of times to believe it, shorty.” He moves in again, brushing his mouth against mine tenderly. His hand skims my throat and across my shoulder seductively, reigniting his obsession with touching me again, but little detail filters through my head.
I pull away, my mind racing ahead, and seriously pin a look on him. There’s one thing plaguing me, and I need to know one thing that causes pain in my heart, even amid the joy flowing through me.
“What about Marissa?” I curse inwardly at how feeble I sound saying it. His jaw tenses, but he smiles at me gently, bringing our noses to touch tenderly, treating me like a fragile and priceless piece of glass.
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