Twenty One (Love by Numbers Book 2) (30 page)

We stand looking out over the magnificent view in silence, until he places an open mouthed kiss right at the spot where my shoulder meets my neck, and then releases me from his embrace.

“I have to shower and get ready for a full day of photo shoots, are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

I turn to rake my eyes over his deliciously naked body, a playful smile on my face as I reply, “To the shower or the photo shoots? If it’s the shower, that’s an automatic yes.”

His eyes immediately darken, his pupils taking over the striking blue of his irises. He takes a decisive step forward, his intent clear on his face but I swat his hands away when he reaches me, “Go shower you insatiable man, I’m not having Tina on my case because you’re late again.”

The pout that takes over his face makes him look like a small child and I can’t help but laugh, “Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, you’re not the one who would have to face her wrath for the rest of the day. Besides, I have plans of my own.”

That immediately gets his attention, “Plans? You need me to arrange some security to accompany you?”

His thoughtfulness is like a punch to the stomach, I have to own up to what I am about to do but I need more time to prepare what I want to say. If I blurt it out he will never understand why I am going against his wishes.

“Go shower, we’ll talk when you’re finished.” I try to keep the smile on my face but he cocks his head to the side giving me a thoughtful look before shaking it off.

“Okay, I’ll go do that Miss Bossy Boots, can you order us up breakfast? I wouldn’t want to be late after all.”

“That I can do, now go and get that cute bum of yours in the shower.”

He looks affronted, “Cute? There is nothing
cute
about my buns of steel.”

I laugh shaking my head at him, “Okay, go get your
buns of steel
in the shower. You’re such a boy sometimes.”

He grips my hand and with lightening speed pulls me into him, grinding his growing erection into my hip.

“Oh no baby, I’m
all
man.”

Then he attacks my mouth with a blistering kiss; one that causes my toes to curl and my lungs to scream out for oxygen, before he releases me feigning nonchalance. His erection proves he’s just as affected by me as I am him, so he can fake being unruffled all he wants, but his body betrays him.

He winks at me before he turns around, giving me a scrumptious view of that
cute
arse and the delicious dimples that sit just above it.

“Stop drooling Emmy.” He calls out without even turning around to look at me.

H
alf an hour later, he emerges freshly showered and dressed in torn jeans and a tight white t-shirt.

Approaching the table where I’m sitting eating breakfast, he gives me his best attempt at a innocent smile before he snatches the toast from my mouth, grins and sits in the chair next to mine.

“Hey”, I protest, retrieving what’s left of my toast from between his lips, “Get your own.”

He gives me a mischievous look and proceeds to slather his own piece of toast with butter and strawberry jam.

“So what are your plans for today? Do I need to call Nina and arrange for someone to go with you?”

I clear my throat because it’s suddenly formed a large lump.

“Nah, it’s fine, I already have someone coming with me.”

Turning his head towards me and with half a croissant between his lips he gives me a perplexed look, “”Who?”

Unable to maintain eye contact, I push my chair back and get up to leave the table; without looking at him I answer, “Tina.”

I move to walk away from the table but his hand shoots out and grabs my arm, stopping me in place.

“Why the hell is Tina going out with you?”

I turn back to look at him and his face is mixture of both hurt and confusion. It causes an even bigger lump to lodge in my throat but I attempt to croak around it.

“She’s coming with me because I have an interview with
Cosmopolitan
.”

I break eye contact and sit back down at the table, reaching over to take his hand in mine. He would normally relish my touch and link our fingers but he doesn’t this time, he just leaves his hand there limply.

Silence.

I look back up at his face; an unreadable expression has replaced the hurt and confusion.

“I’m not doing it for you Jake or even for
her.
” I squeeze his hand hoping he believes my words for they are the truth, “I’m doing it for me.”

Silence.

He doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t even blink and I so badly want to know what he’s thinking right now.

“Talk to me please.” I implore, hating this tension that blankets us, making it feel as though he is ten thousand miles away, instead of sitting right next to me.

He remains mute until his hand finally moves in mine to link our fingers.

I can feel the anxiety slowly seep out of my body and it gives me the strength to explain myself better.

I stare down at our joined hands, attempting to keep my voice even.

“When I read the article that featured my mother, I couldn’t breathe Jake. I stood in that Japanese store with Liv and I swear I was seconds from passing out. What she did hurt me more than anything she has ever done to me in the past.” I shake my head ruefully, “And trust me she did some pretty shitty things.”

I finally look back up at him and the hurt on his face strikes me deep in my gut but I keep going.

“It’s not just about me, it’s about James, it’s about my father and it’s about taking the control back that I’ve fought my whole life for.” I squeeze his hand, hoping he knows that the next words come from deep inside me.

“People hurt the ones they are supposed to love on a daily basis; I’ve learnt that I cannot control their actions but I can control my
reaction
.”

He looks at me and I swear I see pride filling his features.

“What they chose to do is a reflection of them, not me. If my name is going to be out there as fodder for the whole world, I’d like a say in what they get to read. I’d rather one million people read an article filled with my words, than they read something that is filled with deceit, bullshit and lies.”

Silence.

He doesn’t understand.

I sigh and look out over the view that had me transfixed this morning; the caress of his thumb over my knuckles, pulls me from my thoughts.

“Okay.”

My head shoots back to look at him. I’m not sure if I heard him correctly.

“Okay?” I offer up a hesitant smile; why did I ever doubt what his reaction would be.

“Okay”, he lifts my hand to place a light kiss to the inside of my wrist and relief floods through me, “But I’m coming with you.”

Shock replaces the relief, “But …. “

He interrupts me, pulling my chair closer to his and positioning himself so that both his knees hug the outsides of mine.

“No buts Emmy, if you really want to do this, I will not let you do it alone; I’m coming with you.”

The intensity in his blue eyes rocks me to my core. Not only does he understand why I am doing this but he also wants to support my decision.

“What about your photo shoots?”

“Fuck the photo shoots, they can work around the time of your interview or they can find someone else.”

“But … “

He leans forward and kisses me firmly, “I said no buts Emmy; you need to get used to the fact that it’s me and you, everything thing else is irrelevant.”

God I love this man.

A
few hours later, after being fussed and primped by an over eager make-up girl in preparation for some shots to accompany the article, I’m sat in front of the Cosmo journalist Kate West; the apprehension of spilling my guts for the world to digest and pick apart, bubbles around in my belly.

It’s not a pleasant experience but she seems very considerate for a journo and Jake’s hand in mine helps soothe my frayed nerves.

“So Emma, shall we start at the beginning? I understand that the first night you met Jake ended quite tragically, I’d love to hear the story through your eyes.”

The kind look on her face makes it easier to form my thoughts into words and by the end of the interview I’ve divulged everything; from the attack, to James and I even touched on my relationship with my mother.

There were times when I got overwhelmed and had to take a break for a sip of water or to regroup my thoughts and emotions. Jake would run his hands in calming circles over my back or place gentle kisses to my forehead and he never once left my side or let go of my hand.

“T
hank you for your honesty and for sharing your story with us Emma, this is going to make an amazing article, one that will resonate with our readers on many levels.”

She switches off her recorder, gets to her feet and surprises me with a hug.

“You really are an amazing role model; have you ever thought about using your experiences to bring certain issues some exposure?”

I look from her to Jake and back again, confused by her words.

“I don’t understand, I thought you wanted to interview me because of my relationship with Jake.”

She smiles softly before replying, “Yes, that is what has brought you to the attention of the whole world Emma but why not use the limelight to help others? I have a friend who works with a child bereavement charity in the U.K. and another who works for one that helps victims of sexual assault. They are always looking for high profile spokespersons and I think you would be amazing in the role. You’re bright, beautiful and articulate. Think about it, here’s my card.”

Jake stands and takes the card from her, looking at me with a combination of love, awe and blatant admiration.

“Thanks Kate, I’m sure that Emma will be in touch once she has thought things through.”

She gives a small smile to Jake before looking down at me with a glint in her eye, “Nothing hotter than a protective man. Take care Emma, I hope to work with you again sometime.”

Then she looks back at Jake, “I’ll email the article to Tina in a few days time for approval, thanks for letting me share your outstanding young lady with the world.”

She gathers her things, gives me another smile and leaves the room with her entourage following closely behind her.

“W
ow; that was intense.”

Jake walks over to me before kneeling down at my feet, my hands firmly clasped in his.

“You blow me away. Just when I think I couldn’t love you more, you blow me a-fucking-way. I don’t deserve you Emmy but I’m never letting you go.”

T
he sun rising up over Sydney Harbour, framing the famous opera house in an ethereal glow, has to be one of the most amazing sights in the world.

A
more beautiful sight is my girl looking at that view. She is transfixed by the world outside as much as I am entranced by her; by the curve of her back and the smooth expanse of her tanned skin, peeking out from the top of the sheet that she has loosely wrapped around herself.

Wickedly sinful thoughts of removing that sheet and pressing her up against the glass invade my mind. We are high enough up that anyone watching would never know what we are doing and the thought of her body heat, leaving an Emmy shaped silhouette on the glass, gives me an instant raging hard on that is begging to be let loose.

My girl is all business this morning though and she ushers me into the shower all on my own, with no thought to the painful boner that is pleading for her attention.

I am tempted to take matters into my own hands whilst showering but anything less than her hands, mouth or body on me is a second rate experience and one I will not settle for.

Instead I will my errant dick to behave and turn down the temperature of the water in an attempt to cool down my libido.

I
t isn’t the shower that finally quells my lustful thoughts but her admission during breakfast.

She has gone behind my back and, with Tina’s help, is selling her story to a women’s magazine. I struggle to dampen the rage that flows through my veins.

Not rage at her I realise, but rage at myself for putting her in a position where she thinks it necessary to spill her darkest secrets to the world.

I hide my anger with silence, until she convinces me that she is doing this for her and not me.

There’s no arguing with that, even if I still believe she doesn’t have to do it.

W
atching and listening to her speak to the journalist is another thing altogether.

One second I have to stamp on my urge to ball my fists and punch something or someone and the next, I am filled with such admiration for her that my heart swells in my chest, crushing my lungs and making it difficult to breathe.

My girl has lived a life overflowing with sorrow, yet she speaks with such love for those who deserve it. It makes me wonder how she lived with a parent who held so much disdain for her, and come out the other side with such graceful strength.

Hearing her speak of the attack was even more excruciating; hearing how she felt and what she experienced that night, brought forward memories that I had tried hard to keep buried.