EIGHTEEN
JACK
How the fuck did I get myself into this mess? I have no business noticing how stunning and sexy Emma looks or telling her she has nice boobs. And I certainly have no fucking business kissing her like I mean it.
But damn, I meant it. Tasting her sweet, full lips and hearing her soft moan did incredible things to me. It took my brain much longer than usual to realize that I was touching someone and doing much more, and that not even one hour after my therapist advised me to take it slow. One baby step at a time, he told me in today’s session. But what happened was the complete opposite of that. The step we took was anything but baby.
It felt so fucking awesome to be entirely lost in the moment. A moment so full of desire for her, for the feeling of her smooth skin under my fingertips, her heavenly scent filling my nose, and her delicious taste on my tongue. But that moment is definitely over now that someone’s at her door.
We both need a couple of moments to regain our senses. We stare at each other, and neither of us seems to be able to believe what just happened.
Emma snaps out of it first. With a deep breath, she strides to the front door while I calm my nerves. “Brad! What are you doing here?” she screeches. A second later, a tall, blond guy walks in, and as soon as the door closes, Emma jumps into his arms, hugging him tight. The family resemblance is uncanny: this must be her brother.
“Oh, Em, I missed you,” he says and hugs her even tighter.
“I missed you too. But you haven’t answered my question.” Emma leans back to glance at her brother.
“Stuart had to fly to New York to meet with a client, so I thought this would be a great opportunity for a surprise visit,” he says with a wide grin.
Emma returns it with a huge grin of her own before her eyes find mine. Only now, her brother notices me too. “Brad, that’s Jack,” Emma says. “A friend of mine. Jack, this is my brother, Brad.”
“Nice to meet you.” Brad stretches out his hand with a smile not quite as wide as the one he gave his sister.
“You too.” I only give him a subtle smile, and I know I’m not making the best first impression here, but I’m still flustered by that mind-blowing kiss.
Emma interrupts our awkward moment. “Where are you guys staying?”
“At the same hotel as usual. I’ll go there now to meet Stuart. He had to take an earlier flight in, but I just wanted to see you first. I was hoping we could catch up later tonight?” He beams at her after glancing at me.
“I have plans, but you are more than welcome to join us. I have to tell you about Mom’s latest coup.”
Brad’s eyes widen when Emma recounts the last phone call with their mother, during which she told Emma she had booked a flight and given her number to some guy.
“No way,” Brad says and takes Emma’s hands in his, and I can’t help but feel sad because they touch so much. Watching them makes me wish I could touch her like that—without apprehension or fear of the imminent sense of unease and anxiety.
He hugs her again when he says, “Damn, sis, that calls for lots of alcohol, don’t you think? Let’s go out and get hammered.” He leans back, rests his hands on her shoulders, and gives her a reassuring smile.
Emma frowns. “Oh, um ...” She steps away from her brother and closer to me.
Brad narrows his eyes at her. “What?” He studies her with furrowed brows. “What are you not telling me?”
Emma rubs her forehead. “I can’t drink,” she mumbles in a low voice before hiding her face behind her hands. “Because I’m pregnant,” she adds in an even softer voice. I’ve hardly heard her, so I guess her brother had a hard time as well.
“Excuse me?” Brad removes her hands from her face. “You are WHAT?”
She meets his stare. “Pregnant. Damn, Brad, I’m having a baby.”
His mouth falls open. “Pregnant?” His eyes shoot to me, and the glare he directs at me makes me step back.
Emma places her hand on Brad’s arm. “It’s not his.”
His gaze returns to Emma, and it softens immediately. “Whose is it then?”
“Some guy’s.” She shrugs as if she was talking about a new colleague and not the father of her baby.
Brad’s eyes go even wider. “Some guy’s? Fuck, Em, are you serious? Does Mom know?”
“No, and I’d like to keep it that way—for now. ”
“Damn, I’m speechless. I didn’t think we’d need to catch up this badly. You’re gonna have to answer so many questions.”
“I will,” Emma says. “But later tonight, because we have to leave.” She gives me a quick nod.
Brad takes a deep breath. “I gotta leave too. Stuart is waiting for me. Text me where you’re going, and I’ll meet you there.” He gives her another hug and mumbles, “Pregnant? Wow. And here I thought you’ve just gotten fat.”
Emma steps out of their embrace and punches his chest. “Hey!”
Brad chuckles. “Okay, I’m off. I’ll see you later.” And with a peck on Emma’s cheek and a slight nod toward me, he’s gone.
I still stand rooted to the spot, already wondering if we will talk about the kiss now or not.
“Okay,” Emma says with a deep sigh. “Give me five minutes, and I’m ready to go.” She walks past me and vanishes into her bedroom.
Not talking about it now it is.
“What did you tell your brother about me?” I ask Emma several hours later while we head to her apartment.
After an evening at O’Reilly’s, where Paul, Henry, and I played tonight and enjoyed our friends’ company afterward, I walk Emma home. We dropped off her brother and his boyfriend at their hotel, and Emma insisted on walking the rest of the way to her place.
“What do you mean?” She throws me a sideways glance.
“From the looks Brad gave me, I could tell you talked about me. So what did you tell him?”
She shrugs. “That we’re friends. And that you offered me your support in this.”
I want to ask her if she still thinks we’re only friends, but I’m not sure if I want to have that conversation just yet. That’s when I remember something I need to ask her. I clear my throat because I’m anxious about her answer.
Emma tilts her head when I shove my hand through my hair. “What’s up, Jack?”
Maybe this is a good start for the talk we’ve been avoiding. “I, um, I told Amy I’d bring a plus one to their wedding,” I tell her.
“Did you?” She raises a single eyebrow.
“Yeah. It’ll be next month, in mid-June. They’re getting married at Henry’s parents’ house in the Hamptons. It’s a beautiful property, right on the beach. We’ll spend the weekend there. And—”
“Jack,” Emma interrupts my rambling. “Get to it.” She smirks at me, certainly knowing what I’m trying to say.
I clear my throat again. “Okay, uh—” I stop and turn her to face me. “Emma, will you be my plus one to Ben and Amy’s wedding?”
Her lips stretch into that sweet smile I’ve come to adore way too much. “I’d love to.”
I smile back at her. “Great. ”
The rest of the way, I give her more details about the wedding until we stand in front of her door. My heart shrinks now that the evening is ending, and we didn’t discuss what happened earlier, but Emma asks, “Do you want to come in? Maybe have another drink and talk some more?” She displays a shy smile, and I mirror her expression as a nervous tingling spreads through my chest.
“Sure,” I say, rolling my shoulders back.
I stand right behind her when she unlocks the door so I’m close enough to breathe in her deliciously sweet scent. My eyes close as her flowery fragrance takes me back to the moment when I had her wrapped up in my arms. Pictures of that moment flooded my mind all evening, and the urge to touch her again grew steadily. And just like that, the nervousness that had a hold on me makes way for a different sensation.
I stride into the apartment after Emma, and something in my brain shuts off completely. As soon as the door closes and she turns to me, I step toward her. I brace my hands on the wall I press her up against, my palms resting next to her shoulders. She stares at me, her wide eyes blinking at me, and a soft sigh passes her slightly parted lips. But it’s not only surprise I detect in her gaze; there’s something else: an intense and overwhelming need.
I close the last distance between our bodies, and a quiet moan escapes Emma that—as soft as it may be—I still feel in every fiber of my body.
We stare at each other, and the tension between us keeps building up. With her every breath, her chest brushes against mine, and I’m mere moments away from losing control. I couldn’t care less that this might end badly and that I shouldn’t be doing this just yet.
“Jack, are you drunk?” Emma asks. Her voice is barely more than a whisper.
“No.”
“Then what are you doing? I thought you couldn’t—” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but I know what she wants to say.
“Fuck while I’m sober?”
She nods.
“Things are different with you. I already felt it when I met you. You do something to me. You make me feel things that no one has made me feel in so long. And this is getting stronger every time I see you—every time I’m close to you.”
“Oh, Jack.” With a moan, she closes her eyes, and her hands, which she had flattened against the wall, move over my chest—a contact that makes me shiver.
I lower my head and stop just before my mouth touches hers. “I want you, Peach. So bad.”
I cup her face with my hands, and my thumbs caress her cheeks when I close the last inch between our lips. Just like our last kiss, this one completely consumes me. It makes me forget everything but her and me. My hands wander down her body until they reach her ass. I press her even closer, and she gasps.
I run my lips along her jaw, down her neck, to her collarbone, and the swells of her beautiful breasts. My hands wander back up, this time beneath her blouse and the freaking tight tank top that got my blood pumping earlier. The small whimpering sounds and the low moans that escape Emma’s lips spur me on even more .
When I massage her breast and hard nipple through the lace of her bra with one hand, my other lifts her leg so I can press my throbbing erection closer to her hot center to show her how much I want her. As if that was all she needed, Emma undulates her hips, finding friction that drives me out of my mind.
“Ah, Jack.” She moans my name over and over before my lips find hers. She runs her fingers through my hair, pulling gently, which elicits a deep guttural sound from my throat. I’m so close to ripping her clothes off and finally sinking into her, but for some reason unknown to me, my brain decides this very moment to work again, making my heart beat even more frantically. My breath hitches in my throat, and I feel like I’m suffocating.
I tear myself away from Emma, with regret and remorse washing through me. How could I be so stupid to think this could work? Why did I raise both our hopes that I could go through with this? I don’t dare look at her, afraid of seeing the disappointment in her eyes.
“Shit!” I mutter as I’m trying to calm down. “I’m sorry.”
She takes a deep breath and lets out a small, frustrated groan. Yeah, I deserve her anger.
“Jack, look at me.”
When I do, I cringe. Hurt and irritation are written all over her face. “Oh, Emma. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t rush into this.”
“Into what? What is it that you want from me? Only a quick fuck? Or more?”
“Damn, Peach, I want more, so much more. I’m sorry, please don’t be mad. ”
She slumps her shoulders with a deep sigh. “I’m not mad—only confused,” she says more softly. “How will this ever work if you can’t touch me?” And just like that, the frustration is back in her voice, making me frown.
“I can get used to it. I can force myself. I know I can.”
“I don’t want you to get used to it! Dammit, Jack, are you even listening to what you’re saying?”
“I’m sorry, Emma. This is all I can offer you. I’m working on it. Please,” I whisper, “be patient with me.”
Emma crosses her arms over her chest, and paired with the closed-off expression on her face, I get the impression we’re done with the conversation for now.
“Maybe I should go,” I mumble. “Good night, Peach.”
And with one last apologetic look, I walk out her door.