Chapter 65

What the hell? Where did that come from?

“Being closed out.” He has a hint of humor in his eye, but I know he’s being serious, sardonic, and not in a friendly way. I frown at him and go back to my sight-seeing, confused at his manner. Trying hard not to rise to it and inwardly churning up with anxiety.

“What does it take, Emma?” That edgy tone in his voice betrays a bad mood looming up.

Why today?

I curse inwardly. Jake’s negatives moods are the worst thing ever; maybe he’s hungover and obviously still tired. He shifts gear as we round a rather craggy coastal road; his focus on the road, his brows furrowed, and a tightness to his jaw that screams of tension.

“Jake, please … What are you talking about?” I squirm in my seat and adjust my clothes to distract the awkwardness in my pose.

How have I closed him out? He’s seen more of me, knows more of me, than anyone on the planet, does he not see that?

“You’re not even going to mention last night? Is that another conversation over?” he snaps this time and I bristle.

“You didn’t mention it either.” I spit, a little too aggressively. Riled by the up by this attack; it’s like he’s getting his period.

“I was waiting to see if you would.” Eyes cool green and face tense, he’s in difficult and stubborn mode.

Great!

“Why?” I snap, but he just shrugs again.

Oh my god.

He can be so infuriating. I think he’s still exhausted for sure, and he’s being crabby as hell. I don’t want to fight, I want to go back to playful, fun Jake. This is not the little outing I was expecting.

“Jake … It shouldn’t have happened; we crossed a line.” I plead, trying to make him see sense, trying to stop this fiery conversation and get back to something lighter.

“And there she is! Right back to square one.” The sarcasm thick in his tone. His body stiffening in his seat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I turn to him angrily.

“Anytime you get close, Emma, even a hint of letting go, you snap right back in and shut the door. No conversation. No acknowledgment of it, just wham. Over!” He barks at me, all hope of not fighting out the window and my emotions tank.

“What?” I hiss with a sardonic laugh. “Because I won’t sleep with my boss? I’m not letting myself go? That’s being closed off?” I turn away, anger flaming my face, completely furious now.

Fuck you, Carrero. Why is it always about sex with him?

“I don’t think there was any doubt about it last night … It’s not the issue … It’s the afterwards, Emma.” His voice is laced with venom, anger seething from every pore, his body tense. I stay silent, anger prickling my scalp. I’m as wound up as him now.

“I was drunk … being stupid, anyone can make a mistake.” I huff.

Stop being an asshole and ruining this.

I shift in my seat to turn away from him, trying to fully face out of the side window. I’m thrust forward as he slams on the brakes and we screech to a halt, kicking up dust and stone around the car, throwing everything loose toward the front with a violent clatter.

What the hell?

I snap my head at him shocked. He’s gripping the wheel aggressively and staring straight ahead, taking a calming breath. I notice he’s swerved us into the side of the road, out of the non-existent traffic. He unbuckles and gets out of the car and stalks off toward the side of the high edged road, overlooking the vast drop off the cliff. Every muscle in his body tight and flinching with rage.

What should I do? What the actual hell? Where did this even come from?

I’ve never actually been the focus of this version of angry Jake, not like this, not with this kind of rage. I feel sick, unbearably emotional and I reel it back in, taking deep heavy breaths, trying to still my hands. Trying to not let him get to me while my stomach ties itself in knots.

He comes back to the car and slides in stiffly; he’s making me jumpy and nervy. He’s not looking at me and he doesn’t try to put his belt back on. I really don’t know what to say. Angry, aggressive men as big as Jake are my worst nightmare.

Why is he reacting this way?

I’ve no clue what goes on in his head sometimes as I watch him warily, every nerve ending in my body on high alert.

“It’s not about sex, Emma.” He’s quiet and pensive and his hands move back to the wheel, but he doesn’t start the car. “It’s about this eternal need in you to stay in full control … Never letting anyone in, never letting yourself enjoy anything, and letting your guard down. Always keeping me at arm’s length.” His voice is gruff and edgy with an undertone of aggression.

“That’s not true.” I do enjoy things in my life, he has no idea. He’s the closest person to me in the world.

“Really? Emma, I’ve been with you for months now, I’ve seen just about every version of you there is … Tired, grumpy, bossy, happy, PMSing like fuck.” He’s calmer, but his voice is still strained, that edge to his tone. I sit stiffly, focused on his hands gripping and un-gripping the wheel as he talks. His body language speaking volumes about his inner hostility.

“I’ve seen vulnerable only briefly.” He flicks his eyes at me, and I spin away, hating that he’s even seen it at all.

“I get it, Emma … You’re strong, you want everyone to see that. You don’t need anyone … But it’s not who you are … And it’s not true.” It’s almost an accusation.

“Yes, it is … Do you ever think that maybe you overthink it and try to see stuff that isn’t there?” I spit angrily. I hate him analyzing me, trying to make out that I don’t know myself inside out. He has no clue what goes on inside of my head.

“I think I know you better than most people.”

I think of my mom and Sarah, and push both images away, I don’t think I’ve cried in front of either of them since I went through puberty. He’s right. He does, but it doesn’t mean he knows all of me.

“What if I don’t know how else to be, Jake?” I turn to him in frustration at his know it all ideas. “You keep pushing … Keep telling me to let go, and what if I can’t? What if this is me? This is all I know. I’m not capable of doing it any other way, or needing other people, because I don’t know how.” I’m yelling at him.

Why am I shouting?

Because he’s hit a nerve and it hurts, and I hate him for it, hate him for stripping me bare. I don’t get a second of warning before he bridges the gap, instantly molding his mouth to mine, completely unexpected.

His lips are warm and soft and swiftly push mine apart. His tongue in my mouth, caressing, and it feels like heaven, instantly crushing my defenses and melting my armor. His hands get buried in my loose under layer of my hair and I kiss him back, tangling my fingers in the collar of his shirt so I can pull him closer, instinct taking over. Breathing heavily, getting lost in the sensation of his touch, that sensual mouth which does amazing things to my very soul. We both moan lightly as the kiss deepens, my stomach lurching with desire and I almost let go.

My head reels around full circle as though trying to slap some sense into me and somehow, I mentally recoil.

I can’t do this; I can’t. Yet I can’t stop, it’s addictive as he’s pulling me tight and I’ve literally no defenses. My belt slides loose as he unclips it and I’m against him, his arm around my waist, pulling me hard into his body over the central controls; awkwardness of the car’s confined space ignored.

I fear he will drag me onto his lap and then what?

This will change everything, this could ruin my career, my life, my mental state, our relationship. What if we cross the line and I start to feel more for him …? I don’t think I can trust him not to hurt me; it’s what he does. Sex and casual affairs, meaningless hook ups. I’m just a challenge to him, a new toy that holds his interest, because I’ve been evasive and once he has me, what then?

I can’t, I just can’t.

I start recoiling from him, the passion in me burning out, replaced with genuine fear, suffocating terror. My hands sagging and I start pushing against him. He feels the change in me and lets me go, coldly, no real hesitation. Both of us inhaling heavily as he sits back in his seat harshly, glaring at me.

“That’s exactly what I mean.” His voice is cold and angry. “This is your biggest enemy, Emma … Not me.” He taps my temple with a finger, rage brewing in the depths of his green eyes.

“Why did you do that?” I spit. My body still reeling and out of whack from the assault on my senses. Lungs struggling to self-regulate and I am in free fall. My lips on fire from his kiss.