Page 53 of Free to Believe
And I have to. I’ll have to walk away.
That thought is what finally gives me the strength to answer, “Yes,” but instead of it coming out with my usual determination, something else leeches through.
My need.
His footsteps are muffled between the softly lapping waves and the sand. The next thing I know, Jake’s standing in front of me. He opens his mouth before a smirk twists his lips. “Was it the ’80s that finally broke through to you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I state haughtily. I move to turn and head back to the house, but he captures my wrist and tugs. Flying back, I land sideways into his arms.
He stands there holding me for endless minutes under the starlit sky. “You need to let me go,” I say softly.
“Why?”
“This isn’t part of why I came here,” I tell him honestly.
His bark of laughter both reassures and unsettles me. “Me neither, lady. But I can’t seem to escape the fact that the more I see you, the more I want to do this.”
“Jake,” I offer up as a token protest as his head lowers. Pulling me more flush against him, our bodies align under the vast sky while he steals what little there is of my breath in a kiss so perfect, I know I’m in worse trouble than I thought. Because if I thought I was enchanted by his daughter and helpless to his voice, I’m drunk on his kiss. It floods my blood like the most potent of wine. It echoes in my heart like the fiercest of storms. It scares me down to the soles of my feet.
It warms me deep in my heart.
Pulling me closer against his muscled body, one of his hands cups the back of my head while the other smooths up and down my back. Sliding my arms up around his neck, I hold him closer. Feeling my acquiescence, Jake molds me against him. His head angles slightly, pulling me deeper into the vortex of the storm.
When we finally break apart for air, our lips seem unwilling to part. Jake peppers my face with a few tender kisses even as he’s easing me back. “Em?”
He expects me to talk? After a kiss like that? “What?” I’m barely able to get the gritty word out past my swollen lips.
Here it comes, I think cynically. The brush-off.
“I know why you can’t sing.”
Flabbergasted, I gape at him. He wants to talk about music? “Excuse me?”
His voice has risen to be heard over the crashing waves. “It’s because all the music is trapped inside your soul. You just sing where most people aren’t allowed to see it, so they can’t hear it.” With a lopsided smile, Jake touches my cheek before he backs away. “I’ll see you back at the house.” Turning, he jogs through the sand back toward the stairs, leaving me immobile as I watch after him.
Facing the ocean again, I try to get my heart’s rhythm back under control.
I am so completely screwed.
29
Jake
It took me a few minutes to cool down after a kiss so scorching, I nearly tumbled Emily to the beach to taste the softness of her smooth skin I saw on display the other day. I was of half a mind to, but the vulnerable look on her face stopped me.
I want her to want me, not be uncertain about it. So, I walked away from the singularly hottest moment in my adult life to come back and reassure Dani and Brendan that “Em just needs a moment.”
Fortunately, Jenna and Lynne had run upstairs to get everyone a refill on drinks because otherwise I’m certain there would be no end to the questions. When I left her on the beach, her delicate lips were still a bit puffed up…
I endure their knowing looks by ignoring them and tossing a reed into a glass of water well before Em slips back in through the door she escaped through earlier.
Preparing it through rote motions, I turn back to Brendan, whose face is filled with thoughtful concern. “Are we still in an ’80s mood?”
He nods, but his expression hasn’t changed. “What do you have in mind?”
“Let’s lighten things up,” I suggest. I walk over to the sax in the corner and pull out a reed. Popping it into my mouth to wet the already broken-in reed, I use the lubrication from my tongue to ensure it feels right before I attach it to my mouthpiece.
“No freaking way!” Jenna exclaims, bouncing up and down. I grin at my daughter.
