TWENTY-TWO
JACK
I watch Emma storm off. What the fuck just happened? She was the one flirting with someone else, and suddenly I’m the bad guy?
“Jack?”
I turn around when someone calls my name, and I don’t know if Kate is the person I want to see now.
“Are you okay?” she says in a soft voice. When she rests her hand on my arm soothingly and looks at me with her big brown eyes, it hits me. Even though I’m mad at Emma about what happened earlier, I realize she’s right. Kate is flirting with me. Why haven’t I noticed it before? Every time she touched me and smiled at me, and how she would always talk about the good old times.
Damn, I should have seen it. And just like that, remorse replaces my anger.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes, Kate, I’m okay. Listen—” I step away from her. “You know that there’s something between Emma and me, right? That we’re more than friends?”
She sighs, turning her head. But I see her eye roll. “Yes, I figured. Are you sure that can work?”
“I am sure, but I messed up tonight. I’m sorry, I gotta go. Good night, Kate. And please, stop with the flirting. You and I, that’s not gonna happen.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but I shake my head and turn around to go after Emma.
As expected, Emma doesn’t answer my call or text. When I knock on her door, I keep my fingers crossed she won’t ignore me any longer. I step from one foot to the other until the door swings open, and Emma stares at me with a hurt expression that makes my insides churn. “Emma,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
She narrows her eyes, but then her features soften. “Me too,” she whispers back.
I blink at her. “You—what?”
She steps aside. “Come in.”
I nod and wordlessly follow her into her living room, where we sit on the couch. Emma holds up her hand when I open my mouth to say something. “No, let me. I’m sorry, Jack. I shouldn’t have acted as I did tonight, but it hurt to see you with Kate and how possessive she was—again. But what’s worse: I hate how you don’t understand what she’s doing.”
Damn, I despise myself for causing that sad expression on her pretty face. I take her hand in mine and move closer. “I’m sorry it took me too long to realize what’s happening. I told Kate to back off.”
A tiny smile flashes across her face. “You did?”
“Yes. Seeing you with Liam—how his hands were all over you—was pure torture, and I realized it must have been similar for you to see me with Kate.”
Emma grimaces. “Yeah, it was.”
“Will you forgive me? ”
She stares at me for what feels like hours, and I’m starting to worry. But then the corners of her mouth lift slightly, and she nods. “Yes.”
I let out the breath I was holding. “Are we good then?”
“If you forgive me, then yes.”
“All forgotten.” I lean in until our mouths touch in a kiss that is slow and sweet at first, but when she opens her lips to invite my tongue to find hers, she fists my shirt to pull me closer, and we deepen the kiss.
I’m not sure how, but Emma ends up on my lap, straddling me, cupping my face while my hands explore under her dress, caressing her lower back. She shudders and moans, and her reaction to our kiss sends shivers down my spine.
When my hands wander along her ribcage and linger on the underside of her breasts, she pulls back to catch her breath. “Jack.” She moans, and her hoarse voice goes straight to my already twitching dick. But somehow, something feels off, and I have a vague premonition we will need to stop what we’re doing soon.
“Hey,” Emma continues. “You seem tense. Is this too much?” She must have noticed my firm grip on her.
My head falls back, and I close my eyes, removing my hands from underneath her clothes. “Dammit!” I groan.
Emma gets off my lap and sits next to me, breaking any body contact we had. “It’s okay, Jack,” she breathes.
I open my eyes, and my sorrowful gaze meets hers. I want to apologize, like every time, but she doesn’t want to hear it. So I give her a forced smile and rise from the couch.
She furrows her brows. “What are you doing?”
“I should go home.”
Emma stands so close that her sweet scent fills my nose, making it much harder to stick to my decision. “Please, don’t leave,” she says. “Can we talk some more?”
How am I supposed to resist this woman? I want to grant her every wish and give her what she deserves, so I stay a little longer, and we talk. I would have loved to stay the whole night but knew I couldn’t. I’m not ready yet, and if we had continued what we started earlier, it would have ended in frustration and disappointment.
But I feel confident that the day will come soon.