Jay’s full weight pressed her down deep into the mattress. Holding her. Pinning her. Trapping her. Sweat broke out across Em’s skin and her heart started racing for an entirely different reason. Lost in his affections, Jay didn’t notice when her breaths turned to gasps.
He gently nibbled on her shoulder as he lowered his hips to hers. Hardness and heat pressed against her through their pajama bottoms and Em fought for control of herself. This was Jay. Not him. It was Jay. She could do this for him.
Em held perfectly still as his hands slipped down her sides. She stopped breathing entirely as they trailed across her hips. But, when his fingers tangled in the drawstring to her pants, she couldn’t stop the quiet whimper from escaping.
Jay froze. For a long moment he laid over her, lips still pressed against her throat, fingers still knotted in the drawstring, before rolling onto his back beside her and staring up at the ceiling. His face was a blank mask as his chest heaved. It took several minutes, but finally both of their breathing evened out.
“I’m sorry.” Jay didn’t look at her, but his hand reached out to hold hers. “I’m so sorry, Em. I got carried away. I—”
“It’s okay.” If anyone should feel guilty, it was her. It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten him all worked up and then shut him down. She was a tease. A slut. The world’s worst girlfriend. She didn’t understand why he even put up with her.
“It is not okay. I know your limits, Em. I understand them. I respect them. And I pushed you too far.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “I scared you.”
“You didn’t—”
“I did. I heard you, Em.” He rolled onto his side to face her. “I never, ever want you to be afraid of me. Tell me no, push me away, kick me out of the damn bed, but don’t ever let me scare you.”
His hand cupped her cheek and she nuzzled into its warmth. How could she explain to him that it wasn’t him she was afraid of? That she could never be afraid of him? That he was the only thing in her whole life that ever made her feel safe and strong?
“I’m sorry, Jay.”
“Don’t, baby. You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing. I love you.” Jay pressed a lingering kiss to her temple before pulling back and extricating himself from the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“To take a shower.” A cold one no doubt.
Light spilled into the room from the bathroom across the hall just long enough for her eyes to adjust and the bedroom to be bathed in a deeper darkness when Jay shut the door behind him. The clock on the nightstand read five-fifty. The lazy winter sun wouldn’t rise for at least another hour, but she needed to be at the restaurant long before then. Em hated opening shifts, which is why she almost solely worked the dinner rush, but Sahara had begged and pleaded for nearly a week. Finally, Em had given in and agreed to cover her shift. Now, she was regretting that decision.
Chapter Three
Jay
Ice cold water streamed over his face and down his body. Rivulets ran around each of his muscles, coiled tight in frustration and anger. He was not that douchebag uncle of hers. He swore to himself that he would never do anything like that to her. Never push too far or too fast. But that’s exactly what he’d done. Even if she never asked him to stop—never said anything at all—he knew her. Knew what she could handle. And, more importantly, what she couldn’t. He should have known better. Controlled himself better.
She was just so damn beautiful. Intoxicating. Perfect. The thought alone of her lying there beneath him—dark hair fanned out across the pillow, soft, pale skin glowing in the moonlight, dark lashes framing bottomless blue eyes. She was stunning, and it was undoing all of the painfully hard work the cold shower had done.
Then he heard that noise again. That frightened sound coming from those sweet lips, pulled tight with anxiety. He’d done that to her. Made her look that way, sound that way, feel that way. Just like him. The last of his pent-up frustration spiraled down the drain as he shut the shower off and groped behind the curtain for a towel.
Dried and dressed in sweats and a hoodie, Jay padded down the hallway. The hardwood flooring was cold under his bare feet, but they couldn’t afford to turn the heat up any higher. They were already pushing it as it was.
Light poured from the small eat-in kitchen where he found Em sitting at the table sipping coffee from her favorite cracked mug. Not long after they’d officially moved in together, he’d spotted it at a local flea market. The corny heart-shaped handle made him think of Em, so he’d brought it home for her. Not long after, when he’d accidentally dropped it while doing the dishes, she’d insisted on gluing it back together. He’d offered to buy her a new mug, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Three months later and it was still the only one she’d use.