70
“They’re not the same, not even close, Bella. They don’t have any other side to them. When I say I like both Emmas, one can’t exist without the other. I wouldn’t like there to be only one and not the other.”
“So, you like my split personality? A lover of the ‘cray-cray,’” I grin playfully, motioning circles at my temples and crossing my eyes. He chuckles and moves another hair from my face. It seems short hair equals messy hair that clings to your skin at every opportunity. Not that having him stroke it away is a bad thing; it’s a very, very good thing.
“It’s not split, though; there are glimpses of both versions all the time, just one chooses to dominate. I sometimes see drunk Emma in PA Emma when she occasionally relaxes.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know how to relax all the time,” I confess with a conspiratorial wink, aiming for sass and failing.
“I think she’s scared,” he answers thoughtfully.
“Why?” I retort, slightly shocked, observing him; I want to know why he thinks this third-person me is scared. I’m curious about how he sees her and why he believes that.
He stands up, his hands sliding across his chest. He looks too appealing standing like that, touchable, grope-able, and I quickly avert my eyes. I’m conscious that my head is now level with his crotch.
I’ll definitely not look.
Much.
“Because letting her guard down means she lets go of a little bit of control, and she likes to hold it all together. Letting go makes her vulnerable, leaves her exposed, and that’s worse than death for her.” His voice is steady and low. My breath catches in my throat with a tug of surprise in my chest, a little emotional suddenly, as he really seems to know me.
“If I’m vulnerable, people can hurt me. Men can hurt me,” I whisper into the darkness of my room, too honest in my drunken stupor as the words slide out. I sense his eyes on me as he bends, so his forehead meets mine and presses our noses together, an awkward position for him but the cutest move I’ve ever seen him make; there’s something insanely innocent and tender about it. I glance up at him.
“I’d never let anyone hurt you, Emma,” he breathes against me. His hands come down to hold his weight on the mattress at either side of my thighs, bringing his mouth so close to mine that we’re sharing air.
“What if you couldn’t stop them?” I sound young and scared, suddenly serious and afraid.
“I’d always stop them,” he promises with conviction, and I sink forward, wanting the safety that I feel when he’s around me. Reaching up so I can wrap my arms around his neck, I press us together more firmly.
“You won’t always be around,” I whisper quietly.
“I’m always around if you haven’t noticed,” he smirks, his voice low, urging me to pull my face away enough to stay level with his eyes.
“I guess.”
“Let go, Emma, and trust me to look after you … if not long-term, then for these two weeks at least. Trust me to protect you.” He’s so endearing at this moment; I could never deny him.
“I’ll try,” I whisper, not wanting to part from this intimate position. My heart bursts with the tenderness I have for him right now, the sensual emotions swirling.
“Good girl.” His arms slide around me, pulling me up to him for a gentle embrace, lifting me from the bed.
“Don’t call me that.” I pause mid-embrace, causing him to halt. My voice is childish as his words hit me somewhere in the gut.
“Why?”
I don’t know.
Jake called me that before, and I felt like he was talking to a puppy. Maybe it’s calling me ‘girl.’ Ray called me ‘girl.’ ‘Stupid, slutty, cock-teasing, little girl.’ I always hated it.
“Just don’t.” I flinch as he smiles and slowly pulls me in to cuddle me; I’m on my feet, leaning against him. It’s unexpected and gentle, and I’m instantly sagging into his body greedily, held solidly in a bear hug. When he loosens his hold to let me go, I stumble backward, grabbing onto him, but the sheer suddenness catches him off guard. His drunkenness causes him to lose balance; he leans forward to steady me, losing his footing too.
Somehow, we both fall flat on the bed with him on top of me, nose to nose, and laughing like fools at the awkwardness of our ungraceful collapse. His face is so close, like the night we shared a bed, his mouth too inviting. His lips are too kissable to be ignored. Everything within me is clenching tight, hungry for him now that his body is fully connected to mine in such an intimate pose.
I’m drunk, and I’m going to regret it so badly when I sober up, but in the mind of a drunken, wanton female who fancies this man crazily, what I’m doing seems totally fine. I throw my mouth against his rather satisfyingly, soft lips hungrily connecting, instantly on fire, aching to feel his mouth on mine, like that night in Chicago.
He doesn’t hesitate, and we are entwined in seconds. Our tongues are most certainly finding pleasure at meeting once again as he slides his hands into my hair and around my throat, softly holding me still. I’m rejoicing in the feel of his muscular body on top of mine, a little wave of smug pride and deep desire. It’s right in every kind of way, male hardness and soft feminine curves entangling.
This is good, too good! The fact he’s just as into this as I am has me ravenous and losing any inhibitions. Panting as my heart pounds from my chest, I’m lost in its perfection.
I should listen to him more when he says to let go.
His fingers find mine, and he presses them against the mattress beside my head, pulling away to catch his breath momentarily, his eyes dark with dilated pupils.
Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.
He regards me for a millisecond, his face in shadow so I can’t read his expression clearly, pondering what we’re doing, then drops to kiss me intensely. Breathing hard and fast, he knows this could go one of two ways. Right now, his giddy head is throwing the sensible option off the boat.
I don’t care about the consequences; I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life. Doubts gone, mind fuzzy with alcohol, for once, I’m just following instinct and ignoring my brain. He pulls away, changes angle, and kisses me again, sucking my bottom lip passionately. I almost lose all control right then. With his hands back around my face, he’s putting all effort into seducing me and caressing my tongue with a fire that could wipe out cities.
Jake knows how to kiss; he does it like a guy who has learned the art of making a woman pliable under his skilled attention. I am no different, body and soul screaming for more, heightened, and buzzing with longing. He tastes like alcohol and tropical fruit, mouth soft yet agonizingly sensual. I can’t help but tremble with every movement he’s making. Every slight tensing of his muscles, every line of his body against mine, is beyond sensual. My hands explore his upper torso, those hard, taut muscles turning me on.
I’m probably the most inexperienced girl he’s ever had under him, but he makes me crave him. His taste, caress, and smell are intoxicating, the best kind of drug. His mouth on mine drowns out every good thing I’ve ever known as a pale second. He’s making love to my mouth, pulling me further into erotica. My body aches for more while I’m clinging to him and trying to pull him further into me.
He responds with equal enthusiasm. His hand moves to skim the
side of my breast, and I softly moan in pleasure. Holding his weight up to shift against me, he brings his groin to my pelvis and parts my legs, never breaking contact with my mouth. His body is all over me most satisfyingly. I’m almost on fire with the longing in every cell of my being; I’m so ready to let him take me that I am rubbing up against his crotch. We just fit so perfectly, everything coming together easily and in unison.
A massive bang in the hall behind us sends a startling shockwave through the room. Pulling our mouths apart as fright hits me in the chest, he seems to shield me instinctively. He jerks up to look where we left the door wide open. There’s lots of hysterical screaming in the distance as the door fills with the dark looming figure, and Jake turns his head to him.
“What the fuck?” Jake’s shocked and angry. Like me, he’s not happy about the interruption when what we were doing was so mind-blowing. He’s still on top of me, braced on his arms, our bodies still entangled. I lay panting, clinging to him, my body buzzing with pulsing heat.
“Jake? Jake?” the voice at the door calls hysterically; I think it’s one of the twins.
“What is it?” he snaps.
“It’s Daniel! He fell off the boat. We can’t find him!”
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