TWENTY
JACK
I need a few days to return to my senses, as Emma put it.
It was all going so well. Spending time with her felt easy. I could hold her hand for a while, and we could hug for a moment or two. I could kiss her—light, short kisses that were anything but passionate like I would have wanted them to be, but at least more than just a peck.
Emma kept telling me to take it slow and not to pressure myself, but I felt terrible every time I had to pull back. And then I had to ruin it all by getting hammered and showing up at her doorstep. Not my smartest move, I admit. But my body wants her so badly, and my brain isn’t on board with that craving yet. So my body took control once my brain wasn’t functioning properly.
Now I know what they mean when they say you’re moving one step forward and two steps back. That’s how it feels. Emma is mad, and she has every right to be.
By Wednesday night—after three days of silence between us—I can’t take the lack of communication any longer. So when she’s back home from work, I stand in front of her door once again.
When she opens, her eyes widen for the shortest moment. “Jack,” she says, and I frown at the hint of indifference in her voice. When she furrows her brows at me, I let out a frustrated sigh.
“Oh, Emma,” I say, “I’m sorry about what happened. Can we talk?”
She squints at me, and I groan. “Shit, I messed up, but I’m sober now, I promise. Here.” I hand her the box of chocolates I brought. “This is part of my peace offering.”
She accepts my gift and inspects it. “These are my favorites,” she murmurs.
“I know.”
When her gaze meets mine, a lightness rushes through me because a hint of a smile appears on her lips. “Can I come in?” I ask.
She nods and steps aside to let me enter before leading the way to her living room. As I walk behind her, I take in her appearance. It looks like she was planning on a quiet, relaxed evening at home. With her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, she wears sweats and a hoodie—my hoodie, or what used to be my hoodie, if I understood that rule correctly. And damn, Emma never looked sexier.
She sits on her couch and waits for me to join her. While she does, she opens the box of chocolates and takes a piece before offering me one. I shake my head as I sit down next to her. She turns to me and raises her eyebrows. “Now, let’s hear it,” she says.
I shift in my seat before reciting the speech I prepared on my way here. “I acted like the biggest moron, and I’m sorry. I have no idea what came over me, but when I had drink after drink, thoughts of you became all-consuming, and having you in my arms became an unbearable yearning. That’s when I showed up here and risked screwing it all up. All the progress I’ve made. For the past few days, I could only think that you’d never want to see me again.”
“Okay.” Emma holds up her hand. “Please, breathe for a moment.”
My gaze stays on her as she pops another piece of chocolate into her mouth and slowly lets it melt.
Again, I shift left and right, growing impatient. I narrow my eyes at her when she chuckles.
“Jack, relax.” She turns to sit cross-legged opposite me. “First of all, yes, I was furious. But second, was . I understand why you did it, but it’s frustrating to watch you beat yourself up over this physical closeness. How often do I have to tell you I’ll wait for you to be ready?”
I scoot closer. “I’m sorry.”
She rolls her eyes. “Stop apologizing, please.”
“But I am. Most of all, I’m sorry I can’t give you more of that. To show you I care.” I grasp her hand and intertwine our fingers. With the wistful look she gives me, it doesn’t take long for my heart to pick up its pace. But as it has become more and more normal with her, it’s not out of unease but an intense attraction for this woman sitting opposite me. My feelings for her grow and become stronger every time I see her.
“Jack.” How she breathes my name sends shivers down my spine and does amazing things to me. “Listen carefully,” she continues. “You show me you care in so many ways. Every time you make sure I arrive home unharmed. Every time you ask about my day. You get pissed off at the people that piss me off. You let me know in your text messages.” She points to the table. “You bring me my favorite chocolate. And when I was cold, you gave me your hoodie,” she says with an intense stare. “Which you are never getting back, in case you were wondering.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “Em—”
“Let me finish. Because most importantly, I see how hard you’re working on yourself so you can give me what you think I deserve. I notice the progress you’re making, even if you don’t. What I don’t deserve, though, is you showing up drunk so we can have sex and you can take off afterward like you used to do.”
I cringe at her words. Like I used to do . She’s right; that’s what I used to do. Only think about myself, and once I had what I wanted, take off. But I could never do that to her.
Her lips lift in a subtle smile. “Can we move on? No more getting drunk? No more questioning my patience?”
I nod, deciding not to tell her it’s not all about her patience but also mine. I can’t wait to feel all of her and make her mine.
At the thought of her and me being intimate in the hopefully near future, my heart beats faster again. The sweet and sexy smile on her very kissable lips spurs on my already raging hormones, and I wipe my sweaty palm on my pants.
Being entirely lost in thought, I flinch when Emma pulls her hand away, obviously misreading the signs.
My eyes fly open and meet her apologetic gaze. I grab her hand and pull her back toward me. “Oh no, I wasn’t feeling uncomfortable. My mind was going … other places.” I laugh at her stunned expression. “Yeah, that’s been—” My phone buzzes in my pocket. I straighten up at the unexpected sensation and retrieve it to place it on the coffee table .
“Don’t you want to check who texted?” Emma asks.
“That can wait. As I was saying—”
My phone vibrates again with another incoming text. With a groan, Emma grabs it. “Please check. Maybe it’s important.” Just as she wants to hand it to me, it vibrates again, and automatically, her eyes fix on the lit-up screen. Her eyebrows shoot up before she gives me my phone with a forced smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to look. It’s Kate.”
I frown at how she says Kate’s name. There’s a hint of something I can’t interpret. “What’s wrong?” I ask with narrow eyes.
She hesitates a moment too long before she mumbles, “Nothing.”
“Emma.”
She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “Fine. I don’t like her. Sorry, I know she’s your friend. What does she want?” She holds up her hand before I can respond. “No, don’t answer that. I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”
I chuckle. “Hey, no, it’s okay.” I skim over Kate’s messages and look back up at Emma. “She asks if I want to go out to the Avalon this weekend.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “The Avalon? As in New York’s hottest nightclub? As in getting all dolled up and wearing a sexy little dress with lots of cleavage showing?”
I study her, and my eyes widen when it dawns on me. “Are you jealous?”
She snorts. “Of course not.”
I laugh. “Yeah, snorting makes me believe you. ”
Emma crosses her arms over her chest and clamps her lips together. I chuckle again as she avoids my gaze. With a shake of my head, I place my phone on the table and turn back to her. And as I feel brave tonight, I lean closer, and Emma’s gaze snaps to me. “Jack, what—”
I cut her off by pressing my mouth on hers, and the little moan that escapes her goes straight down south—a sensation that is still so unfamiliar because this hasn’t happened to me in over ten years. No woman has had that effect on me while I was sober. I have no words to describe this emotion.
While I brush my lips over hers, she’s hesitant to return my kiss. “Don’t you want me to kiss you, Peach?” I ask her, and I pull back when she chuckles. “What?”
A damn sexy smirk appears on her. “Lately, you’ve only been calling me Peach whenever you were in a flirtatious mood.”
I lean in. “I’m feeling a little more than flirtatious right now, Peach.”
“Is that so?”
I nod before closing the last inch between us, and this time, she returns my kiss. She opens her mouth for me when my tongue teasingly runs along her lips. A low growl forms in my throat when she strokes over my chest before running her fingers through my hair, even pulling gently.
We lean into the cushions so she’s flat on her back, with me hovering above her. I place my hands above her shoulders, trying not to put my full weight on her. But I quickly realize that’s not working for me. I need more, with that new sensation rushing through me and my brain finally complying and not interfering. So I lie next to her as far as her couch allows and I don’t push her off. And now—while still kissing her passionately—my free hand wanders over her body to explore. And it explores. Down to the hem of the hoodie, underneath, and back up. I groan when I discover her braless state. “Damn, Peach.”
She laughs softly. “I was planning on spending a relaxed evening on my couch, and that only works without underwear.”
Another groan escapes me as my lips caress her jaw. “Underwear? Please tell me you’re wearing panties, or else I might embarrass myself.”
She grabs my head with both hands, leading my mouth back to hers with a chuckle. “I am. But shush now. Touch me, Jack.”
She doesn’t have to ask twice. I cup her breast and run my thumb over her nipple, eliciting a whole new sound from Emma—one that makes me go painfully hard.
Her breasts feel so good in my hand, and along with her soft moans, my desire for her grows. Even though I am sober, I do feel intoxicated. I’m on an emotional high from Emma’s heavenly scent and how she tastes like sweet, gorgeous woman. With the way she’s writhing underneath me, I can’t wait to be as close to her as two people can be.
My leg parts hers, and I press my thigh to her core. With a small gasp, Emma rolls her hips back and forth, finding some much-needed friction.
“Oh, Jack,” she pants. “You’re driving me insane.”
“Same here, babe,” I breathe on the smooth skin along her neck .
She wraps one leg around my waist to pull me closer. “I desperately need to come,” she says with a moan as she nibbles my earlobe. That, along with her words, makes me tremble all over, and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than grant her this wish.
But then I feel it. It’s just the tiniest sensation, and I have no idea why I even notice it. My focus is solely on Emma, her soft skin, the scent of our arousal, and the sound of our moans filling the air. And still, I recognize that unpleasant tingling in the pit of my stomach, slowly but gradually spreading through my body. With my ever faster-beating heart and labored breathing, I can no longer prevent the sense of slight panic.
I wonder how my brain even does that with what seems like my entire blood volume flowing through another part of my body—the part that is still painfully hard and presses against Emma’s thigh.
And as much as I want to continue, it’s more than obvious that I can’t. This moment full of pleasure will be over soon, and not in the way I hoped for. With a huff, I sit up and retreat. “Sorry, I don’t think I can.”
Emma groans and pushes herself up on her elbows. “Fuck, Jack,” she says with an eye roll and a still-heaving chest. “The next time you apologize, I’m gonna seriously hurt you.”
Despite all the unpleasant feelings that currently wash through me, I laugh. “Okay, okay, got it.” I draw in a couple of deep breaths. “But I feel terrible that I can’t make you come now.”
Emma sits up with a wave of her hand. “I’ll get over it. ”
“I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to take matters into your own hands.”
Emma throws her head back and laughs, and another unfamiliar sensation takes hold of me. That laugh—no, that woman, everything about her, eases the sense of distress and panic. Actually, every anxiety attack I’ve had in her presence was rather mild. And now, she even calms me down faster.
I can’t help but stare at her and realize I’m falling pretty hard.
Emma clears her throat and snaps me out of my daydream. She leans closer and whispers, “The first time I come with you around, I want you to come with me. And believe me, once we take that next step, I’ll make you see stars.”
I almost choke on my spit, and if my anxiety attack hadn’t already taken care of my hard-on, I probably would have come right there in my pants.