11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Emma
“T his is just great.” I cross my arms, glaring at Jonathan, who sits beside me with his wrists cuffed. Less than an hour ago, we were on the beach, enjoying the sun, until Jonathan decided to get into a fight. One moment I was admiring the view, and the next he was throwing a punch at some creep who’d been staring at me for too long.
Before I could even process what was happening, the man stormed off. I thought that was the end of it, but ten minutes later, he returned—this time with a police officer in tow.
“That’s him.” The man had pointed an accusing finger at Jonathan. “He attacked me for no reason.”
The officer sighed, looking between us. “Is this true?”
Jonathan crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t say it was for no reason.”
And just like that, we were handcuffed and brought to the station.
Now we’re stuck behind bars, and I can’t believe this is how my morning is going. I should have been writing.
“I can’t believe this.”
Jonathan glares back at me. “Don’t be such a diva. It’s just a small jail.”
“I’m not being a diva!” I exclaim, my voice shaking with anger. “I’d rather be writing right now, Jonathan, something I enjoy doing, in case you haven’t noticed. I wanted to be writing all morning, but you dragged me out to the beach and then punched someone!”
“To protect you,” he argues. “He was staring at you, and the things he said were vile.”
I huff angrily. “So what? A lot of men stare. That doesn’t mean you should go around punching them. Creeps exist, but he would’ve eventually moved on, and we could have enjoyed a nice dip in the water! But no, you just had to punch him.”
“I’d do it again,” he mutters, voice dark. “No one looks at my wife like that.”
I roll my eyes at how insufferable he’s being right now. I almost remind him that I’m his fake wife, but since an officer is watching us closely as another one talks with Jonathan’s lawyer on the phone, I keep quiet. I wonder if it’ll really be this easy for us to get out of this.
The second officer returns with a frown, as though he’d much rather not let Jonathan go.
“You’re free to go, sir, just refrain from punching random people,” the officer grumbles as he comes forward to undo the cuffs.
“You’re lucky that man didn’t want to press charges.”
“No promises, sir,” Jonathan says. “I won’t let anyone else be rude to my wife.”
My heart flips at his words, and no matter how much I want to stay mad, I can’t. I secretly love the way he’s standing up for me, the way he threw that punch without hesitation. No one has ever defended me like that before.
I don’t know what that means for us, because the more he calls me his wife, the more it feels real.
Finally, the cuffs are off and he looks up at me. “You’re not frowning. Does that mean you’re not mad anymore, and I don’t have to sleep on the couch? My back still hurts from last night.”
I roll my eyes at his antics, but I also feel bad that he had to sleep on the couch. “Maybe I’ll let you stay in the bed,” I say. “But let’s go back to our hotel before I decide.”
He smiles, then hooks my hand in his as we walk out of the station.
“Thank you,” I whisper, so quietly that I almost hope he won’t hear it.
“What did you say?” he asks cheekily, intentionally wanting me to speak up.
“Thank you,” I cough out, a little louder this time. Jonathan seems to be content with that, because he doesn’t ask me to repeat it again.
“You’re welcome, wife,” he says.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I ask.
He tilts his head to the side. “Calling you what? My wife?”
I nod.
“Because you are my wife,” Jonathan says matter-of-factly. “Emma’s nice and all,” he muses, “but ‘wife’ just rolls off the tongue better.”
I scoff in disbelief.
Jonathan smirks, tilting his head playfully. “Admit it, wife, you like the sound of it, too.”
I roll my eyes, but my body betrays me, leaning into his warmth as he drapes an arm around my shoulders. My heart stumbles for a beat before I force myself to focus. This isn’t real. “Well, don’t get too used to it, because this is all temporary.”
That seems to wipe the smirk off his face, which hardens into a frown.
“Why did you have to ruin the moment?” he asks, and I don’t have an answer. I just continue in silence as we return to the hotel. Maybe a part of me wants to keep repeating that it’s fake, that this will have to come to an end, because I’ve stupidly begun blurring the lines between reality and fiction. It’s getting harder to remember this is fake.
Lately, I keep seeing a version of him who doesn’t frown as much, or doesn’t have malice in his voice when he’s teasing me—a version of him who flirts and laughs and seemingly likes my books for real, not in a mocking way.
I can’t stand that version of him because I can’t hate it, no matter how much I want to.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Jonathan mutters next to me. I glance at him before shrugging.
“I just really need a shower. That jail reeked.” I wrinkle my nose and he nods, his gaze a little distant. The moment we get to our hotel room, Jonathan leaves to go ask for the towels he wanted the other day while I strip out of my clothes to take a shower.
The cool water is exactly what I need. The second it hits my back, I let out a sigh of relief. It feels divine, and I stand there just enjoying the water for longer than I should before I begin scrubbing my body with soap.
It takes almost an hour for me to finish showering, but Jonathan still isn’t back with the towels and the ones hanging in the bathroom are small…so small they won’t cover my entire body. Sighing, I grab one and cover the lower half of my body, tying it around my waist before stepping out of the en-suite bathroom and into the bedroom.
I don’t notice Jonathan is in the bedroom with me until I hear a loud thud, and I jump to find him standing there, his ears red as he stares at me with hunger in his eyes.
“Jonathan!” I exclaim. “I didn’t know you were back. Did you get the towels you wanted?”
Jonathan mumbles something incoherent, but his eyes are still on me…and I realize exactly why.
My towel is around my waist, so my entire chest is on display. I totally forgot that I’m standing here half-naked.
“Oh.” My cheeks flare with heat and I bring my hand up to hide my chest, but it doesn’t really help, considering he’s already seen it all.
Jonathan’s eyes widen, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. His gaze flickers from my face to the towel and back again, as if waging an internal battle…a battle he’s clearly losing.
Jonathan drops the towels he’s been holding, something I hadn’t noticed before, and he steps closer to me. He brushes back a few wet strands of my hair and tucks them behind my ear. The gesture sends a chill down my back, and I can feel him shivering from the touch, too.
When he speaks, his voice is dangerously low. “For someone I’m supposed to hate, I am very attracted to you.”
My thoughts are blank. I can’t think of anything to say. He comes closer to me and I don’t push him away. Instead, I angle my head so I’m staring directly into his beautiful eyes. Yes, he has beautiful eyes that I’ve never noticed before. They’re the color of chestnuts, so brown and deep that they seem to pull me in. And for just one moment, I forget my hatred for him.
“You have such pretty eyes,” I find myself saying, and I reach out to caress his cheek. Jonathan closes his eyes at the gesture, and I pull my hand away. “I don’t want you to close your eyes.”
We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, yearning reflected in both our eyes. Jonathan looks like he wants to say something but is holding back, and I want him to know it’s alright. He can tell me anything.
I find myself staring at his perfect lips, a light shade of pink that entrances me. I just know that they would feel soft against mine, softer than anything I’ve ever felt.
Jonathan’s breath mingles with mine, our lips inches apart. My pulse hammers in my ears, my breath hitching as the space between us disappears. My body is frozen, caught in the gravity of this moment. “Emma,” he murmurs, voice laced with something unspoken. “Can I—” His words die on his lips, and I realize I want this as much as he does.
I never knew a kiss could feel this good. He doesn’t even move at first, just letting the sensation of his mouth against mine wash through us like a cacophony of emotions. It’s driving me crazy and I lean into it, wanting and needing more. I can tell his hunger matches mine because he kisses me harder.
When he slips his fingers into my hair and draws me closer to him, I fall into a state of ecstasy like no other. I moan at the feeling of his tongue as it slides against my lips, seeking entrance, and I part them to let him in.
He moans my name. Pressed against my mouth, it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. I don’t let go, not even for a second.
He tastes sweeter than anything I’ve ever imagined. Kissing him reminds me of nostalgia mixed with another sensation I haven’t figured out yet, but I know it’s why he makes my heart beat faster than it should.
Jonathan pulls away, his forehead pressed against mine, his warm breath lingering over my lips. A shiver runs down my spine, and I smile.
“I’m so glad I’ve finally kissed my wife,” Jonathan says, making me blush. It’s hard to remember this is all fake, especially now that we’ve kissed.
“I’m glad to finally have kissed you, too, husband,” I say, causing him to grin widely. My mind is still a mess, and I can’t begin to wonder how we got into this position. My hand is no longer covering my chest, so he can see me in all my glory, but it doesn’t matter. I want him to see me.
And when he kisses me again, it’s even sweeter than before. He’s tender and kind, intentionally refusing to push me to do anything more. My heart beats wildly. Jonathan kisses me like his life depends on it, as tenderly as if he doesn’t want to break me, so slowly that I can pull away if I change my mind.
Warmth spreads through me at the kiss, at the way he cradles my face like I’m something precious, something he doesn’t want to let go of. When he pulls away, his eyes are filled with such deep emotions that I start to feel something I’ve never felt before.
“You look like you’re in love with me,” I whisper, smiling, still giddy from our kiss.
Jonathan is about to say something when his phone rings. He ignores it at first, instead moving to kiss me again. But it rings over and over again, until he angrily takes it out of his back pocket.
“I told them not to call me unless it’s an emergency, so this better be worth it,” Jonathan grumbles before picking up the phone and walking out of the room, leaving me feeling cold.
Upset at the interruption, I shrug it off and put on a dress and matching flip-flops for the day. If we plan on visiting the beach again, flip-flops will be the best choice.
Jonathan returns, his expression grim and his jaw tight. My stomach knots. “What happened?”
“Something came up at work. I’m sorry, but I have to go find somewhere with better reception so I can get through to them,” he says.
“When will you be back?” I ask, hating that we’re being separated after the kiss we just shared. It awakened something in me that I’ve never felt before.
Jonathan leans in. “Hopefully just an hour, maybe two.”
After he leaves, I immediately feel the coldness of his absence, already missing his warmth and him. I’m not sure I’ll be able to enjoy anything until he returns.