Page 97 of The Love Rematch
Then she stops.
“Jake,” Emily says, but the words catch in her throat. She tries to swallow the knot away but it won’t budge. There’s so much to tell him, so much to say, yet she can’t. She’s stuck on the precipice of before and after, not quite brave enough to meet him on the other side of her fear.
Jake chose her.
He’s here.
He stopped running.
After seven years, she’s still not sure she can do the same.
He watches her with a question in his gaze as the silence stretches. Emily wets her lips, then holds the bottom one between her teeth while she wavers, unsure what to say. The motion draws his attention to her mouth. He’s hardly moved since they entered her room, but he does now, as if on instinct, unable to stop himself from gliding his thumb across her skin and gently tugging her lip free. Caught up in the sudden rush of heat stirred by his touch, Emily plants a soft kiss on the pad of his thumb. It’s not enough to satisfy the tight clench of her desire. So she draws his finger fully into her mouth and tastes him with her tongue before sucking gently on the tip.
Jake’s eyes go black with need.
Tomorrow, she decides. Tomorrow, she’ll tell him everything.
Tonight is magic, and she refuses to ruin it.
“Real answer,” Emily quietly demands as she takes his hand in both of hers and clutches his large fingers as though they’re a lifeline.
Jake doesn’t have to ask. He knows exactly what she means.
“I love you,” he says, tone tender but firm, leaving no room for doubt. “I always have. I always will. And if you give me another chance, I promise I will never leave you again. You’re everything, Em. Every. Fucking. Thing. I mean it.”
“Then touch me, Jake.”
She lowers his hand to her breast and holds it there as her heart races. His eyes roll into the back of his head before he closes them with a groan, overwhelmed with pleasure.
She wants to meet him there.
She needs to meet him there.
“Touch me until I believe you.”
As if he’s waited seven years for the invitation, he slides his hands down to her ass before she even has time to breathe and lifts her against him. The proof of his desire is rock hard against her stomach, undeniable. He grips the backs of her thighs and wraps her legs around him. She crosses her ankles behind his back to squeeze him to her core. A growl pulls free of his lips as he buries his head in her neck.
“I missed you, Em,” he whispers against her throat before pressing his lips to that spot below her ear he must remember drives her wild. Her body clenches instinctively. With a soft laugh, he nips at her skin. “I missed you so goddamn much.”
But he doesn’t rush.
The Jake of seven years ago would have tumbled into the pillows, ripping at her clothes, desperate to be inside her. This Jake takes his time, savoring every moment, every touch. He cradles her back as he slowly leans forward, perfectly in control as he lays her down on the bed. His lips work their way from her mouth to her throat to her collarbone. His hands dip lower, brushing her breasts, caressing her stomach, gripping her hips. His fingers find the hem of her silk top and sink underneath, hot against her bare skin. Emily gasps, on fire. Jake grins against her neck and continues his slow perusal, feeling every inch of her with such purpose, such care, his every stroke silently insisting she’s someone to be cherished, someone to be worshipped. Emily twists her fingers in his hair, growing more inflamed and more impatient with each passing second. He ignores the silent plea and slips her shirt over her head. His focus shifts to her chest, sucking and licking until the meaning of her tight grip changes entirely.
When she doesn’t think she can stand it anymore, he kisses a trail down the center of her stomach, pausing to dip his tongue in her navel as he curls his fingers beneath the hem of her silk shorts. He edges lower and lower, but never quite low enough before he slinks off the bed. He meets her eyes as he slowly strips her naked.
Jake stops to breathe in the sight of her, his gaze hungry as it roves over every bared inch lying before him. Emily doesn’t move. She can’t. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen, and yet, this moment feels a thousand times more charged.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, suddenly hoarse. “So fucking perfect.”
She’s not.
If it weren’t so dark in here, he’d see the three small scars across her abdomen. They’re smooth after so many years of healing, but still visible, still there, a reminder every time she looks in the mirror that she might never be enough for anybody, not even herself.
As if sensing she’s in her own head, he grabs her by the ankles and yanks. Emily yelps as she slides down the bed, the sudden movement jarring after so much unrushed attention. Her head falls back against the mattress as she laughs.
“That’s a new move,” she teases. “Something you learned in LA?”
“I just came up with it.” Jake grins as he moves his palms slowly over her calves and up her thighs, spreading them. The mirth dies on her lips, replaced with breathless anticipation. “I did learn other things, though.”
