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This space between us is what’s killing me, knocking me off kilter because Jake is the one who always grounded me. Always brought my sanity back with his affectionate, touchy, ‘hands-on Carrero’ approach. And he isn’t giving it to me anymore.
I watch as he lifts a corner of a bag and ungraciously dumps stuff all over the bed while I try to get a handle on my thoughts and the realization I’ve come to and what to do about it.
A sudden catch in my throat almost chokes me as a bundle of tiny white baby clothes unfurls before me, shocking me with the unexpectedness of it, completely tearing my thoughts from anything else.
“Jake … You shouldn’t. It’s too soon.” I blurt out in hushed tones. My hands betray me as they automatically pick up a tiny white Babygro in soft velvet fabric. I pick it up to hold it against my abdomen without realizing what I’m doing. It’s so tiny and fragile, so real and symbolic. A surge of something wells up inside me, and the urge to cry overwhelms me. It’s precious and small, making me think of the little life growing inside me with every breath I take. My heart catches in my throat.
“I … kinda got a bit carried away.” He tips up another two bags, pouring out a bundle of blue, a bundle of pink, and one of lemon, plus one fluffy giraffe sitting proudly among them with a goofy grin on its adorable face. It strangely reminds me of Jake, but I can’t fathom why.
For the first time in weeks, I get a stupid spontaneous smile spreading across my face, and I stare at him in a completely new light. It’s as though I’ve just woken up, and blinking in the sunlight, I gaze at him as he comes into focus. He looks happy, idling through the stuff on the bed, his green eyes almost luminescent. I’ve never seen him as gorgeous as he is right now, beaming over his baby’s things, looking every bit irresistible to me.
I couldn’t fill my heart with more love than this moment. Everything that has happened, everything we’ve done to one another, yet this little moment here seems to wipe it all out. Just looking at him like this, knowing I’ve been falling apart without his touch, has me aching. I want him, and I need him so badly. This is making me crazy.
“Kiss me,” I say so directly and spontaneously that I even take myself by surprise. His eyes snap to mine, and he seems to take a moment to realize what I’ve asked. A flash of something in his eyes, hesitation, and something else … apprehension. The tension rises in my stomach with every delayed second.
We seem to stay motionless, looking at one another, while I wait for some verbal response, every moment becoming agony as the pit of self-doubt grows inside me. It’s almost like he no longer wants to kiss me.
Shit … I’m losing him. Crazy Emma pushed him too far away. Stupid Emma, you've been pushing him away for weeks despite everything he has done to show you he loves you.
Jake sweeps forward, pinning me to the cushions, his mouth meeting mine in almost a flicker of a second. I don’t see the reaction coming, so I’m bowled backward, and before I know what’s happening, our mouths are locked, and his hands are cradling my face. That soft, warm mouth, the feelings it rips up to the surface, consumes me, gently molding our movements in perfect unison. His mouth was always made for kissing mine. My toes tingle right up to my pelvis, and my heart aches for him.
He kisses the breath right out of me, moving on top of me on the bed so he can lie over me, yet holding his weight up. He gently slides his tongue into my mouth, a soft yet firm motion, as we get used to one another again. This is so right. I get lost in his feel and what he’s doing to me. It feels like he hasn’t kissed me in eternity, and it physically pains me. It makes me want to cry.
He tastes as I remember, smells, and feels like my dreams, and with every second of this unity, a part of me starts healing. I groan almost instantly, a thousand butterflies fluttering up inside my stomach, warmth spreading through my veins. My fingers find their way up around his neck and across those muscular shoulders, hair, and jaw. I’m roaming, devouring what I’ve been lacking for so long.
I wait for the vision of her to break in, wrenching us apart, but I’m too absorbed in the sensations and overwhelming tug of desire building up inside of me to let her in. I push myself into him firmly, intensifying the passion of the kiss, letting our tongues caress, breathing hard and heavily. His intoxicating touch drives my body into a frenzy now that his mouth is locked with mine.
Hormones kick in, and I lose control; arms sliding around his neck fully, I yank him down on top of me; forcefully. I want to wrap every inch of him around me, within me, devour him with a need so overwhelming that I’m going to self-implode. All those pent-up desires unleashed; hormones and heartbreak; anger and lust; I’ve been denied, love-starved for agonizing weeks; and they come crashing down with a passion that has me yanking his tie off, ripping open his shirt buttons aggressively like a crazed wild cat. Jake pulls away, a hand coming to my wrist, stopping the snaking motion of my nails running down his exposed torso.
“Emma, slow down,” he pants, trying to untangle me, but I only dive back in, sucking his lower lip into my mouth and biting him, deprived for too long and turning feral with need. My inner body is combusting with fiery heat, and my lower body is aching with a pang of hunger so intense I want to scream. He automatically releases my wrist and moves down over my breast through the sheer satin of my dress, soaring heat from the sensitivity of it. He moves back into this, losing himself in the lust for a moment, deepening the kiss, his hardness against my pelvis. He wants me just as much as I want him, but he pulls away fast with no warning, lifting his hands in defense.
“Okay, this stops.” He kneels back and lifts me up under the arms, pulling me into a sitting position before releasing me, standing back on the floor, expression wild and heaving in the air. “I’m trying so hard to be good, Emma … I can’t if you keep doing that.” He takes several deep breaths trying to calm his body down. He’s completely irresistible like this, standing there with an open shirt and raging hormones clouding any rational thought. His muscles and tanned skin are on show, with ruffled hair, kiss-swollen lips, and lust-fueled hazy eyes trying to control his emotions.
“Maybe I don’t want good Jake. Maybe I want normal Jake.” I pout angrily. My inner core almost twisting itself into a frenzy of horniness just looking at him.
I want authoritative, no-nonsense Casanova Jake. I need him. I need this. I need sex. I’m so crazy for him right now.
“Emma, please. I told you I won’t touch you or do anything until you’re ready.” His tense body turns me on, and I bite my lip, fixated on his muscles moving under the form-fitting shirt, exposed toned abdomen, and tailored pants. A sex-crazed haze comes over me fiercely.
Throwing all thoughts except sex out the window, I stand up and yank his shirt out at the waist. I slide my hands under the hem of the smooth fabric and up the sculptured muscles across his abdomen, reveling in the feel of the body I missed so much. I bite my lip and focus on the body in front of me. A body built to make women go completely weak at the knees and their panties self-combust. He groans and slumps toward me slightly, tensing at my touch and empowering me.
“You know how much restraint I’m exercising right now?” His low husky voice and shallow breathing confirm it. I can feel the energy pulsing from him, making me feel desirable, knowing he’s fighting the lust driving through him, knowing I could break his will with a mere touch. Knowing I have this much control over him only drives my need to have him joined to me even more.
I reach up on tiptoes, kiss his neck, nibble, and lick the skin I have been denied, as he stiffens in response. The tension is oozing from him, yet he doesn’t move out of my grasp or move to touch me. My hand slowly traces the soft, hard muscles down his chest, across his sculpted stomach, around past his hips, and finally over his ass.
Every stroke makes the burning ache inside me notch up until I’m almost melting from within for him. I reach down, grabbing his hand, not satisfied with his self-control, pulling him into me, almost groaning at the look in his eyes as we come nose to nose. He may not be initiating anything, but he isn’t stopping me from doing it. He’s just as weak as I am, and no matter how much willpower he’s trying to dredge up, it’s failing him.
Jake has many levels of lust. I’ve seen them all, from flirty starts to complete lust-driven sex, and right now, this look crowns them all. His pupils almost take over the green of his eyes, his face set in complete longing, and his mouth ready to kiss. I maneuver his hand under my dress to my waiting lace underwear and let go of him as it touches the flimsy fabric. I bite my lip and use his wrist to turn his hand to cup me fully and groan as the mere touch ignites sensations that can consume me. We both groan at the contact as his hand flexes slightly, and he fully connects to me. Neither of us looks away, eyes intensely locked.
“Emma. Don’t,” he whispers so softly it almost makes me break. I shake my head and lean up, brushing my lips across his, and he bends down further to accommodate me, kissing me softly and enjoying me. He’s savoring me while his hand stays between my thighs, gently cupping my heat, making me throb with the mere touch. His thumb travels slowly to the front of me, hitting the exact spot I need him to be at, and he gently moves slightly. A sign of his weakening resolve.
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