Chapter 58

I lie awake in the night with his body coiled around me possessively, his face buried in the back of my hair, breathing deeply in his sound sleep. My arm has been freed from the restraint, and it’s only the bedding keeping me captive as he’s still not gotten under the comforter with me. I must have dozed off at some point, and he took it off, but I can only remember tossing and turning until he switched off that damn movie.

His arms are wrapped around my upper body, his fingers entwined with mine; I sigh and relax into his hold, needing this as a balm for yesterday’s events. I’m too weak for this game; already, that ache of insecurity threatens to engulf me from the lack of his body joining with mine.

He’s right. I don’t just need the sex, though; I need the small things—the gestures and touches, the attentiveness and kindness, too. All the stuff he deprives me of when he wants to win a stupid game. It helps, though, that even in sleep, he needs to cling to me, and that revives my will a tiny bit, giving me a little inner strength.

That stupid, stubborn part of me, that inner teen Emma, who can’t relinquish control, won’t give in to this challenge and let him win. Jake’s too good at these games. He always wins; it’s his mission in life to always come out on top. It’s why he’s a ferocious CEO and more than a match for his father. He just can’t help it. It’s in his nature to dominate in everything. Even though he’s a laid-back and easy-going kind of man, there’s an inner alpha male dominance that shines through and shows face whenever pressed. I shiver as the thought comes over me that maybe in this, I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

If neither of us breaks, then what? Jake won’t back down. It’s not in his nature to do it. Will I?

I’m suddenly saddened by the fact that this game has turned into something more, a battle of wills, and feelings are starting to get bruised. My feelings are starting to get crushed. The knowledge that he doesn’t need any emotional security to get through this because, emotionally, he’s stable while I’m flailing frightens me. I always fear that this is only temporary for him, that he will see what I really am and get bored or just hurt me as everyone else did. That is his upper hand, not the sex alone. He is emotionally capable of playing this game because it is just that, a harmless and thrilling game to him. He has that inner confidence and self-assurance. He’s stable in my feelings for him and feels secure in our relationship. I don’t.

He mumbles in his sleep, making me smile despite the turmoil of emotions brewing inside me. His low, sexy voice, husky as always, seems even more so, and I recognize my name among the garble of words he whispers into my hair. He shifts lazily, his hand letting go of my fingers and coming across my upper chest, pulling me closer to him. His face and mouth come down to bury into my neck and warm me with his steady breathing. He mutters, “Love you, bambina,” almost silently under his breath, and I melt.

I let my fingers trail along his muscular arm, the light feathering of hair across that perfect olive skin, surprisingly blond considering his dark hair and Italian coloring, but he is not a particularly hairy man. The amount of time he spends in the sun probably bleaches away most of the darkness. In the early dawn light, I trace my fingers over the symbols tattooed down his arm, almost reaching his wrist, a long, straight row of black ink script, Arabic or maybe Sanskrit, and I wonder what they mean. I have never asked him about his tattoos or the meaning of each, or why he has such a weakness for symbols and tribal patterns.

I close my eyes to return to sleep but find it nearly impossible as that sudden urge to cry envelopes me for no reason. It springs on me from nowhere. Maybe it’s the calm, gentle way I’m being held, as I’m able to steal a genuine moment of affection with no games; maybe it’s how lonely he made me feel yesterday by his distance and commitment to winning. Before I know it, I’m breaking my heart, my face wet with tears, trying to be silent, trying not to move despite my racking sobs. My heart is breaking without any good reason. I curl up into the fetal position on my side, trying to quiet it and hide it.

“Baby?” His voice comes to me through my pain, his arms tightening slightly. “Emma, baby, what is it?” His body moves so he’s leaning over me, trying to see my face, but I only bury the evidence of my sadness into my palms and try to hide from him.

“N-n-nothing,” I stammer amid stinging tears and gut-wrenching pain so sharp inside me that I can barely breathe.

“Emma, this isn’t nothing…hey…” He pulls me toward him, so I’m on my back in the crook of his arm, and tries to tug my hands away.

“Is this about yesterday? Emma, you know none of it’s serious. Baby, talk to me.” He sounds different, with huskiness from sleep and gentle concern mixed to make him sound devastating; it makes me cry more. I can’t answer, and finally, he tugs my hands down, bringing his nose to mine.

“Baby…you know I love you more than life. Don’t do this. I hate seeing you cry.” He runs a hand across my face gently and wipes some of the tears away. Realizing just how tear-stained I am, he slides out of bed, flicks on the lamp, and grabs a box of tissues before hauling me against him again. I take a few, unable to meet his eyes, and wipe my face, only to let fresh tears roll from my eyes. “I’m calling an end to this. Seriously this time,” he sighs and pulls me against him hard. “Nothing is worth this.” He kisses me then, not forcefully or passionately but needily, his mouth taking mine and putting all the emotions he can muster into kissing me intensely. I kiss him back hungrily, needing him more than air right now. It’s as though he’s trying to push away my heartbreak, and I’m clinging to him.

Pulling back, he stays nose-to-nose, his fingers tracing my face, and finally, I sniff back the newest tears, gulping down an onslaught of more.

“Talk to me,” he pleads, his eyes never leaving mine. “It kills me to see you this way, bambina.”

“I miss you” is the only thing I can force out, and it’s true; in only a day, Jake felt a million miles away from me, my security shaky in the name of the game. The carpet ripped out from under me in ways I don’t even understand. He groans regretfully.

“Baby, I never left you.” He kisses me harder, sliding over to cover my body with his. Impatiently he yanks the sheets between us so that he can mold himself to me. I’m still in black lingerie, and he’s in sweatpants. His hands pull my wrists up beside my head as he pushes himself up, our mouths still connected but shifting so his body and mine become wrapped up sexily, my legs automatically wrapping around his hips. His mouth is hungry for me, and he kisses me so thoroughly I’m left panting. “No more games, Emma. I can’t do this to you anymore.” The steel in his voice reassures me, and I surrender to him in every way possible.

Jake makes love to me slowly and tenderly until my body is beyond exhausted. His hands cover every inch of my skin as though they’ve been starved for eternity from the lack of my touch. His passion simmers under the surface, threatening to break free but staying harnessed so he can look into my eyes while taking me. I’ve experienced gentleness from him many times, but this is beyond anything I knew him to be capable of. His mouth is soft and fluttering on my face and lips, his hands light and gentle. For the first time, I know exactly how it feels to be made love to, and Jake is wiping away every ounce of pain and insecurity with every second.

Despite the low-key motion and lack of fiery passion, he makes me climax spectacularly, twice, before finding his release and covering me with kisses. Lying in the crook of his arm, I’m sated mentally, physically, and emotionally.

“Feel better, bambina?” He kisses my ear, his arm across my neck, hand buried in my hair, as he cups my scalp on the opposite side, holding my face to his.

“Much,” I blush and turn into him, nuzzling closer at his affection.

“I can’t stand seeing you cry.” He moves to my temple, kissing me firmly, our bodies still entwined. “Makes me feel like someone rammed a poker straight into my chest.” His confession sends a bittersweet knot of pain through my heart.

“Maybe I should feel victorious.” I sigh. “Jake Carrero threw in the towel while he was ahead.” I glance up at him with a shy smile. He smiles back.

“I knew the second I saw you crying, baby, that I was never ahead; winning should never come at that cost.” He presses his forehead to me and frowns. “I guess you found my Achilles heel. Lesson well learned.”

“I learned that I’ll never be a match for you.” I pout in jest, but he only shakes his head and moves a hair from my cheek, a small, intimate motion that makes me want him so much more. His eyes graze my face as he lifts strands of my wild waves away.

“You’ve no idea how crazy you were making me. I was losing badly. I couldn’t stand to touch you for long, or I would have folded, so I tried to keep my distance instead.” His mouth lifts at one corner, a self-defeated smile of sorts.

“Maybe I just should have held out after all,” I reflect with a cheeky smile. He bites his lip, eyes moving to my mouth, and grins.

“You almost had me so many times. That sexy getup when I walked in here… Jesus, Emma…I almost came in my pants. You’ve no idea the restraint that took. Why do you think I moved away from you at dinner?” He grins at me, bringing his eyes back to mine, light green and clear.

“To make me jealous!” I pout again, throwing him a haughty glare.

“Bambina, I knew if I sat next to you, picturing what was under that dress, I would end up banging you on the table in front of my family. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you through the entire meal. I don’t think I ate anything.” He brushes his mouth against mine with the gentlest of kisses.

“You’re a jerk; you had me believing I had zero effect on you.” I smile as his fingers move down my naked cleavage and start circling my nipple, bringing it to immediate attention, his focus most definitely honing in on what he’s doing.

“I’ve been a walking hard-on since you issued the challenge.” He leans down and kisses the swell of my breast before turning back to me with a wicked glint. “I know I said no more games, baby, but I’ve other plans for those handcuffs, and I’m pretty sure it’s a game you’ll like.” He leans in fast, kissing me hard, and I know before he even slides his hand under the sheet to my warm hot core that he will find no resistance.