Page 72 of The Love Rematch
“What the fuck was that? Are you kidding me? You could have died! You could have—”
“But I didn’t. And now, you’re looking at me.”
She grins. He glowers.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Oh?” she asks innocently and reaches for the railing. “Should I go back the way I came?”
“Stop.”
He takes her by the hand. An electric shock zips up her arm, as if she’s touching live wires instead of skin. When he tugs gently, she turns back to him, looking first at their joined hands then up to his face. He feels it too. There’s no denying the want in his eyes, not with her. She’s seen this passionate glance too many times before. His blue eyes turn to molten sapphire, burning their way through her. Jake strokes the inside of her palm. His calloused thumb gently scratches her skin in a touch she can feel all the way to her core. Then he blinks and forces his gaze away.
“Come on.”
He guides her inside his room. They march toward the door. She’s so caught up in the feel of him, it takes her a second to realize what he’s doing.
“Wait!”
“You need to leave.”
“Rita is sitting in the hallway.”
“What?” He freezes.
“Rita? The PA?”
“Yes, I know who she is. Why is she—”
“I think she’s guarding my door. Or maybe yours.”
“Fuck,” he mutters and drops her hand to run his fingers through his hair. His muscles pull against his white button-down, revealing rippled contours, toned biceps, and a broad chest. She averts her eyes, but those backstabbing jerks jump to the exact wrong place—the sliver of hard, tan skin visible above his belt. A smattering of dark hair follows a defined curve, guiding her directly to his zipper. Her throat runs dry.
Stupid untucked shirt.
“I’ll go out and send her away. Give me a minute.”
He’s almost out of reach before Emily’s trance breaks and his words reach her brain. “Jake, stop. I came here to talk to you.”
She grabs for him. He shakes her off, but stops walking. It’s something, at least.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Since when has that ever stopped me?”
“This is different.”
He speaks to the wall, refusing to look at her. Or maybe he simply can’t. Emily walks into the path of his gaze and forces his hand. “Why?”
He turns away with his jaw clenched. “Because you don’t understand.”
“I understand more than you know.”
“I can’t talk about this.”
“Why, Jake?”
“Because I can’t!” he shouts. The words emerge from somewhere deep inside his chest, raw and aching.
