Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Emily
“I really could have driven myself,” I say as I seat myself in one the lush seats of Jacks car.
“I know, but now I get to spend more time with you,” he shrugs, grinning. His eyes roam up my body and back down, darkening as they take me in. The attention sends a shiver down my spine. I have decided that the way Jack looks at me, is the only way I ever want to be looked at.
I have been waiting for this date for two weeks, it’s technically the third date, if you count the pool game that was perfect, until it wasn’t.
After I told him about the shift I had swapped to see him, he cleared out a cinema so I could swoon at Glen Powell in his most recent movie, and he could pretend not to like it.
That makes two, which means this trip to an arcade he’s hired out will be three.
Third date means sex, right? God, I fucking hope so.
I’m not usually one to put a time scale on things like sex, having to wait until you get to know each other before you do it or whatever.
I didn’t exactly wait with Chris, we slept together the night I met him.
When there’s chemistry, there’s chemistry.
And Jack and I have a whole lot of that.
After those pictures we sent last week became much more X-rated as the conversation progressed and he talked me into using my vibrator for him to hear down the phone, I am desperate for the real thing with him. The few orgasms we have now shared are not enough. I want all of him.
“Really, though, it doesn’t make sense for you to drive all the way past the place to come and get me, then on the way back you’ll have to go in the other direction before going home,” I ramble. The last thing I want to be to anyone is a burden.
“Em.” Jack eyes me for a second before turning back to the road, “It’s fine, this way I know you’ve arrived safe.”
Oh.
A heavy weight lays over us at the reminder of how Jack feels about car safety and it brings the conversation to a halt.
After he lost his best friends it’s a miracle he even gets into a car.
I guess never getting into a car again wouldn’t be very practical, especially with his job taking him all over the country.
He explained to me on one of our many phone calls that he feels like him driving is the best way for him to control the outcome.
He hasn’t been a passenger in a car since the accident.
He has tried, with his sister, his mum and dad, but he has panicked every time. So he drives. Always.
***
“You sure you’ve played this before?” I say between hiccups of laughter as Jack’s mini-golf ball flies past the hole we are playing and over not one but two other holes.
“I’m used to bigger golf, I’ll admit.” He grins as his already pink cheeks darken further.
We have been running around the arcade playing different games for almost three hours now and I haven’t laughed like this in a really long time. Most of my laughing has come at Jack’s expense, but he seems to suck at everything apart from football and pool.
He runs off to retrieve his ball and places it back on the Tee to try again. When he over-shoots his shot by a long way, for the third time in a row. A have to wipe the tears out of my eyes. “How does a professional athlete have such poor hand-eye co-ordination?”
“Hey,” he whines, pinching my side, which tickles and makes me snort laugh.
His eyes widen in delight that he has discovered my ticklish spot, and he drops his golf club and lunges for me.
I squeal and jump back, but not quick enough and I am scooped up in his arms being pinched and tickled by his strong hands.
The snort laughs that are coming out of me set Jack off so much that he falls to the floor with me still in his arms.
I bat him away, but he still keeps hold of me, both of us now literally rolling on the floor laughing. “Truce!” I squeal between snorts. He loosens his grip slightly and moves his hands to my hips, holding me.
In our tickle fight I have spun myself around, so I am on top of him, one of my legs straddling his.
I push myself up on my elbows and look down at Jack.
My breath catches at the sight of him like this, under me, his hair ruffled and pupils large.
The last time I saw him like this I was on my knees for him.
A shiver runs up my spine at the memory.
His chest is moving fast, his breaths coming out quick and short. So are mine.
He reaches a hand up and tucks my hair behind my ear so I have an unobstructed view of him.
He follows his fingers down one of my curls and pulls it at the bottom, so it springs back up.
“I love your hair like this.” His voice is rough and the sound of it sends heat to my core.
His pupils have grown about ten sizes when I meet his eyes.
He trails his hand down my neck to cup my jaw. I lean down tilting my head, I am finally going to kiss him again.
Jack clears his throat and shifts himself so he is sitting up and I am sitting next to him.
What the fuck?
I shake my head trying to physically shake myself out of the moment.
I look up at Jack and blink in disbelief, his neck is stained pink and he lifts a hand to scratch the back of it, “We should keep playing. I haven't lost yet.” He grins at me sheepishly and jumps to his feet, proving he is all the athlete I know him to be.
“Yeah,” I mumble, still confused. He reaches a hand down to me and I use it to help me stand. He releases me as soon as I am up and retrieves his golf club, setting himself up for his next go.
***
Jack
That was too fucking close.
I have been itching to get my hands back on her since that day in the board room. When she thinks I got all I needed from her. How do I tell her that is not all I want from her, but also, all I am dying to do with her?
I have been half hard since she stepped out of her door in those tight leather leggings and low-cut top that shows off her tits just the right amount before it becomes indecent.
Knowing exactly what those tits look like underneath isn’t helping one bit.
The pictures of those tits are now in a locked album on my phone, and I have basically memorised every inch of skin on them I have looked at them so much.
The squeal she made when I pinched her side was the one of the best noises I have ever heard. I just had to hear it again. So, I had pinched her again. And I finally had part of her in my hands and I was making her squirm up against me. My control slipped.
I lost my shit when she snorted and I had doubled over laughing and ended up on the floor, dragging her with me.
But fuck, when we we’re down there and she was leant over me, there was no longer an issue of being only half hard.
If she had looked down, she would have seen the full effect she has on me.
I itched to drag her fully on top of me so she could wrap her thighs around me, I already had my hands on her hips. I could have made her grind that pussy right over where we both needed it, just to feel her.
I clench my jaw against the image I have created as I take a sip from my drink. We have been sat on a bench in the bar area since I got my ass well and truly whooped at every game here.
I can’t pretend to notice that Em has been a little quiet since I snubbed her before. I know she wanted to kiss me. I could see it in her eyes, the second she decided to do it. It was like all the tension left her and she was finally giving herself permission to do it.
I couldn’t. Because if I did, I wouldn’t have stopped. We would have taken a break, I would have driven us back to her place, and I would be buried so deep inside her right now I would only remember my name because she was screaming it.
‘I thought you had got what you wanted from me’, her voice from when she was drunk on her bathroom floor slams into my mind again.
She thinks all she is to me is a fuck. I can’t blame her for seeing me that way, it’s how I have treated women for years.
But not this one. She is different. I knew it when I met her.
These past few weeks that we have been getting closer have just proved things even more for me.
So, I won’t touch her. Not until she can trust the fact that I won’t just drop her as soon as I have fucked her. I run my hands over my face as I glance over at her. Sighing I say, “I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you earlier.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, um. It’s fine.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and runs her hands through it, “I didn’t—”
“You did,” I cut her off before she flat out lies to us both. “I wanted to kiss you. Fuck, I desperately want to.”
“So why didn’t you?”
I sigh, “Because it would have led to more. I would have taken you home and in the morning, you would have thought I was done with this.” I gesture between us. “Whatever this is. And I don’t want you to think I’m done with this.”
Her brow furrows, “What do you want me to think?”
“I want you to know it’s not just sex for me. Not anymore. That’s not all I want from you.” I take her hands in mine. “I want this to be the start of something.”
“The start of what?” Her voice sounds hollow.
She won’t meet my eyes and I reach for her face to turn it towards me, but she flinches back from my touch. “Em, look at me please.” She lifts her head, and I am met with the unmistakable glimmer of fear.
“What exactly is this the start of, Jack?” she whispers.
“A relationship?” It comes out as a question because I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. And now, with her looking at me like this, like that is the last thing she ever wanted, I can’t help but question if that is the direction we are going in.
She drops my hands and reaches for her bag under the table. “No.”
“What?”
“I said no, Jack.”
“Em.”
She stands, looking down at me. Her expression melted of fear and turned into something worse. Pity. “That’s not what this is, Jack. It never has been. I have just got out of a relationship. I’m sorry if I made you feel like this could be anything more. But it’s not.”
I run hand through my hair, “What do you mean?”
“You were supposed to be a rebound, Jack. I think we’ve both gotten mixed up with what this is.”
Well, that stung like a fucking slap.
I guess that’s all most people think of me though isn’t it. Just a footballer that fucks around and never stays. But no. I’m not taking that from her. Why would she agree to being exclusive with me? Why would she swap shifts just to see me? If that’s all we were.
We have been enjoying spending time together, she has told me that herself.
“You don’t mean that. You’re pushing me away.” I saw the look on her face before the anger, it was fear. She is scared of letting me in. She starts to walk away, and I grip her arm and pull her around to face me.
She stares down at where my hand surrounds her forearm. “I would like to go home now.”