133
He buckles me into the passenger seat of his car, leaning in to kiss me tenderly once more, his green eyes alive and sparkling. Jake can’t seem to stop kissing me, and I have no complaints; after a year of being crazy for him, I don’t want him to stop. I’ve not seen him this happy and carefree for a long time, not since the first time he kissed me.
Had I really been torturing him all that time?
My heart lurches at the thought as he closes my door and comes around to slide into his sleek, powerful car in an effortlessly graceful maneuver.
“Your place for a change of clothing, I guess?” He runs his fingers down the thigh of my red satin dress, his pupils dilating. “I forgot to tell you how amazing you look in this, by the way. I practically passed out when I saw you.”
“You’re so easy,” I giggle, watching his lips part as he raises his eyebrow and winks at me
“Can’t help it, Bambina. You’re sex on legs; this dress only emphasizes that fact.” He throws me his killer smile and starts the car. “Maybe we’ll get a replay of making out on the hood sometime soon.” He tilts his head toward me with a raised eyebrow, and I shake mine in response with an added eye roll, a smile breaking across my face.
Is this real? Is this really happening?
It’s well past noon, and we were only now leaving his building. We’ve been together all morning, showered for a second time and managed to get clean that time, ate pancakes and bacon in bed, and teased each other mercilessly. It’s so easy and natural; it feels like we’ve always been this way, devoid of awkwardness, all heartache forgotten, all the tension, fights, and stupid behavior gone. All of it has faded away as though we were never just boss and PA or even just friends.
“We can’t just hop on a jet to the Caribbean,” I point out since he hasn’t dropped this subject yet.
“I’m pretty sure we can. I own a plane, a yacht, and the company that employs you,” he smirks. He pulls into traffic, the hum of his powerful car sending excitement through me; something about this car thrills me. I guess because it’s so him … powerful, sexy, expensive, in his almost-trademark black, the thrill of the ride makes me redden.
“I hope whatever’s making you blush is something I’ve done in the past twelve hours, Bambina?” His hand comes to my thigh and squeezes gently, his focus quickly returning to the road.
“It’s the past twelve hours I’m blushing about,” I smile back, and our eyes lock longingly. I’m overwhelmed by the strength of the electricity between us, which has only grown stronger.
Will it always be this way? Is it like this for everyone?
“It will only get better, Bella, once I get to know what turns you on. Just you wait and see,” he boasts. I don’t respond, just let the heat move up from my thighs into my face, and I bite my lip as my inner desires overtake me. I don’t think he can improve on anything he’s done to me in the last few hours.
“I love you, Jake.” It comes from somewhere inside me so impulsively it surprises me like it had to be said in that second. He turns to focus on me, his face happy; his finger strokes my cheek delicately.
“I’ll never tire of hearing that from you. Ti Amo, Bellezza.”
I love you, beautiful.
I am beginning to understand some of the things he says to me. Still, too often, I’ve had to ask, ‘What?’ I love that Jake litters his affectionate terms with Italian words and sometimes slips into fluent Italian sporadically. It’s sexy as hell, even if I can only guess what the meaning is most of the time.
“We’re still not going to the Caribbean,” I point out stubbornly. “We both have jobs, and I’m sure my new boss won’t be happy about my sudden sabbatical.” I try for a stern PA Emma tone and get halfway there.
“I’m your new boss. Wilma will have no say,” he states emphatically, that flicker of Jake's dominance shining through, but it doesn’t annoy me for once. It excites me. We always did play the power game with one another, even when we got on well.
Does Jake really want me back as his PA? How in the hell will that work?
“Do you think that’s wise? Me coming back?” I watch him maneuver the car confidently, my knees pressing together in anticipation of having those hands back on my skin, already impatient.
“Do you think I would leave you down on Wilma’s floor and hire some other woman to fly around the world with me to share cozy hotel rooms now?” He flashes a knowing smile at me, and I get a severely jealous twinge. He’s right! I wouldn’t like that at all, and I know Margo is only a temporary stand-in. He could hire anyone and have them by his side the way I had been, someone small, blonde, and sexy who wore tight-ass skirts and stilettos while bending over her desk.
No, I do not like that at all.
“You wouldn’t find anyone as tolerant as me,” I mutter darkly, contemplating some other woman sharing his room, suddenly overwhelmed with hostility. He grins, knowing his hint has worked, and pokes me gently in the cheek.
“I wouldn’t want any other woman, Emma. Not anymore. Not ever again, my little green-eyed seductress.” The seriousness in his tone sends a thousand butterflies through me, and he pinches my cheek playfully to kill my mood. I never imagined I would hear words like these coming from Casanova Carrero’s mouth, let alone his willingness to be with one woman in a real relationship.
I guess hell could freeze over after all.
“You don’t think being together twenty-four-seven will affect things?” I ask as doubt creeps in and a little tremor of anxiety hits.
“I was with you practically twenty-four-seven before, and I felt like it wasn’t enough, Emma. I wanted you around all the time; I wanted you in my bed. Look, dolcezza, we can try this, and if it starts affecting our relationship, we’ll sort something else out.” He glances at me again; I can tell he’s deadly serious, which kills further questioning. He’s right. I need to stop overthinking everything all the time.
We don’t know until we try, and coming back to work with him is more than I could ever ask for. I loved working with him every day, organizing his life. I missed all of it so badly.
Knowing there will be no more leggy dates and separate bedrooms make it even more exciting.
I inhale deeply and grin at him widely; the urge to dive into him and kiss his mouth overtakes me, but I steel it back inside. I guess this is what being in love is meant to feel like, a huge wave of euphoria and a severe lack of hormonal control or ability to keep my hands off him.
“I’m still saying no to the Caribbean,” I say, cocking a brow at him; I at least need to pretend I have some say over things nowadays.
“We’ll see.” He’s still watching the road with quick glances at his mirrors. I sigh and wonder what I’ve let myself in for. It’s his ‘I know I’ve made up my mind, and I just need to make you see sense or bully you into it’ tone.
I mean, really! I know him better than most; he can be stubborn, overbearing, dominant, and sometimes terrifying. But he can also be protective, attentive, gentle, and extremely sweet.
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