Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Jack
Emily resurfaces earlier than I was expecting. I am drinking a coffee at her little dining table, scrolling Uber Eats to see if I can order breakfast to the house when she stops short in the kitchen, surprised to see me.
“You’re still here?” Her voice is rough as she eyes me sceptically.
“I slept in your spare room, I hope you don’t mind.” Slept is a broad choice of words for my fitful night of tossing and turning and listening out to hear if Emily was choking on her own vomit.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says pointing to the washing machine behind me where the bedding I slept on is now going through a cycle. I shrug.
She makes her way to the sink and gulps down a large glass of water only to refill it and turn to face me, glass cradled in her hands. “So,” she sighs.
“So.”
“Firstly, I would like to apologise for—"
“No,” I interrupt as I stand and make my way too her.
I take the glass from her hands and place it down on the counter then take her hands in mine.
“You don’t have anything to apologise for.
” She opens her mouth to protest, and I put a finger on her lips.
Her eyes flare in annoyance at the gesture and I grin.
I pull her behind me, to the front room where we sit on the sofa, knees touching.
My gaze meets hers. “I had a lot of time to think last night, and we have both messed up. I should have told you earlier that I was meeting Sam for a catch up whilst we were both in London. It’s so rare we get to see each other with her moving to Milan and it was a very last minute ‘oh were in the same place, lets catch up’ moment.
But I should have thought about our history and at least told you so you would never have been blindsided by anything that came out about it.
And you—” I lift a brow and continue, “should not have drunk-kissed some random guy.”
“I feel like mine was worse,” she says quietly, looking down at her hands.
I lift her chin with my finger, “It’s not a competition, darling.
” I wink and that wins me a small smile.
I had a lot of time to think about things last night and I take her through my thoughts.
“Look, we were never ‘exclusive’,” I mime air quotes around the word, “and I’m sorry that I haven’t made you feel secure enough to know that I would never step out on you.
But I won’t. I don’t want to. I want to keep getting to know you and I want to see where this goes.
That is if you haven’t fallen in love with your drunken kiss from last night. ”
Emily rolls her eyes and smirks, “He was very handsome.” I clutch my chest as if I have been stabbed in the heart. “More handsome than me!?” I gasp. She finally laughs and it feels as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders at that sound.
She reaches out to push my shoulder and I grasp her hand in mine. “Seriously though, Em. I do really like you and I want to see what we have. I’m not asking you to commit your whole life to me or anything, but I don’t like to share.”
Her eyes meet mine as she nods, “Me neither.”
I kiss the back of her hand, “Good. So we agree, we’re doing the exclusive thing. No random bar kiss hookups. No matter how handsome they are.” I wink.
“And no rekindling things with ex’s.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Now, we need to talk about you coming over uninvited,” she starts.
“Naaah, let’s just order breakfast,” I say through a grin as I lean back on the couch bringing her with me.
She rests her head on my chest so we can both see the screen of my phone as I scroll through food options.
“I’m thinking a bacon sandwich, maybe some hash browns.
Wait. Where are you going?” I shout after her as she runs out of the room one hand clutching her stomach, the other over her mouth.
“I’ll just order for me!” I shout after her as I hear her start to retch. With how drunk she was last night, the hangover is going to be a rough one.
***
Emily
Jack stayed most of the day, we spent it on the couch, cuddled up watching films and purely slobbing out.
He kept his hands entirely to himself. No matter how many booty wiggles I did into his groin where our bodies met, the most I got was a firm hand on my hip to stop me teasing him. Extremely frustrating.
It has almost been a week since then and with our schedules, it looks like it will be nearly another two before I can see him again. I miss him. A lot. More than I should for someone who I barley know.
My phone pings where it sits on my bedside table, with a text from the work group chat and I grin, immediately dialling Jack.
“Hey, beautiful,” he answers on the first ring. He always answers like that, calling me gorgeous or beautiful. It makes me smile.
“Hey, I have some good news.”
“Tell me you’re naked and covered in chocolate in my hotel room right now!”
I giggle at this, he has been away again, in London, for a few days on another brand deal. No photos have come out of him with any other women and when he did go out with his friends to a restaurant where he thought he might be photographed—which he was—he had told me beforehand so I was prepared.
I don’t want to be like Chris was with me making Jack tell me exactly where he is going and who he is going to be with.
I’ll never go as far as telling him who he can and can’t be photographed with, I know firsthand that that is suffocating, and not a relationship I want to be in again.
But that little bit of communication helped settle my nerves about him being away.
“I’m not I’m afraid, no.” He harrumphs at that, making me giggle again. “I have managed to swap that shift so I am off on Wednesday when you have your half day.”
“Why didn’t you lead with that! That’s even better!” he almost yells.
“Better than me naked covered in chocolate?”
“You know I would have to lick every speck of it off and then I would have to do extra work outs to burn off the calories. I have an underwear shoot in a week; I need to look trim for that.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“So vain, Mr Cartwright. Also, dibs on all the pics.”
“If you get underwear pics of me, I want underwear pics of you,” he whines.
“No way are you getting professional pics taken of you with great lighting and body make up and all I have is my old iPhone camera and my bedroom mirror,” I counter.
“What if I sent you one now in front of my hotel room mirror?”
“I’m not saying no.” I grin.
“One sec.” I hear rustling on the other end of the phone, maybe him taking his clothes off. I blush at the thought, heat racing through me.
A few seconds later my phone pings with a text. I immediately open the picture. Jacks tattooed six-pack and chest are the first thing I see, “I don’t think you’ll have any issues with the upcoming photo shoot.” I grin.
“Your turn.”
“Oh, I don’t remember agreeing to that.” I tease as I get up out of bed.
“Anyone ever called you a cock tease before, Emily?” The filthiness of that word makes my knees buckle.
“Hmmm, maybe?” I say as adrenaline floods my system.
I rummage through my underwear draw to find something sexy to wear to send him.
I settle on a black lacy bra and panties set I bought a few years ago.
I snap a couple of pictures making sure I turn slightly so he can see the curve of my bum too.
“You’re not having anything with my face in, I’m post night shift, so the eye bags are crazy! ”
“I’m sure you’re as stunning as you always are,” he says. I can tell when he gets the picture through because he goes silent.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Fucking perfect. Well, almost.”
“Almost?” Shit. I know I’m not like the models he’s used to but I thought he liked my body… What has he seen that he doesn’t like?
“Your bra is see-through enough so I can see the outline of your nipple ring, but not enough so I can actually see it,” he says, sounding disappointed.
“That’s a shame,” I say as I lift my hand up and unclip my bra. I’m well aware my tits are my best asset, and I want him to remember what he is missing. Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t seen them before. A shot of electricity makes its way to my core as I snap another picture and send it to him.
His surprised groan of, “Fuck, Em,” has me wishing this was more than just a phone call.