Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

EMMA

I didn't plan on throwing this in his face, but the tension between us was getting too much to handle. It's like I had to throw something at him, and this is the first thing that came out. However, even this line of reasoning is just silly and immature. I'm letting emotion rule me. How can't I? Everything is hot and bubbly and feels more significant than I ever could have imagined.

For a long time, he looks at me, his eyes narrowed as though he thinks this is some trick. It's like he thinks I will start laughing, or maybe he hopes I do.

"Are you joking?" he finally says.

Even this grim tone and the sternness in his voice send confusing sensations through my body. It's so annoying how he can touch every button without even trying. Apparently, he can just shut himself off from me anytime he wants, but it's what I should want, too.

"No," I say.

"That's why you wore that outfit on graduation night," he says, looking at me like an interrogator, leaning forward.

"Yes," I whisper.

"You wanted to see if I'd notice you, just like today."

"I never thought you actually would ," I snap. "It was just a silly dream, but when I saw you leave the party, I knew we'd be alone together. I wanted that. Oh, God, it's so wrong, but didn't it feel right?"

I can't hide the desperation in my voice. It's embarrassing, honestly. I need to get myself under control, but this tingling hunger won't let me go. There's too much heat inside me, voices screaming that nobody else will ever make me feel this way.

"It felt perfect," he snarls, "but that doesn't mean I should do it again."

" We did it, not just you."

He smirks, glancing into the house through the window. The living room and kitchen are still empty. We're talking quietly. There's no way Dad will hear us, but neither of us can fight the paranoia of getting caught. "With all due respect, Emma. It's like I said last night. I've got twenty-three years' experience on you."

"Experience doing what?" I say. "Dad says you haven't been in a relationship in years."

"Mike said that?"

"In passing, once, but I remembered it."

I did more than that. I held onto it, praying for it to be true, willing it to be, knowing I'd never have a chance with him.

"It's true," he grunts.

"You've never had girlfriends?"

"Not really. Nothing like…"

"Like what?"

He grinds his teeth. "Like this , but this is it. I'm being the grownup here. It's over."

My heart starts to beat super hard and super fast. He says, "Twenty-three years of experience, mistakes, and regrets. I'm too damn old for you. Even if Mike wasn't a factor, I'm an old man compared to you."

"You're not . You're experienced. Mature. Not old ."

"It's over," he snaps, leaning forward, glaring at me. I never thought Jacob Jennings would be so readable to me, but he is here. He wants to touch me again, to kiss me, to grab me, but he's shutting it all down. He's forcing himself to be cold.

"Over," he repeats. "It has to be. Understand?"

"You're lying," I whisper. "You don't want this to end any more than I do."

"Are you trying to break your dad's heart?" he growls. "If he ever found out, it would ruin him. You have to let me be strong."

Now he's got the desperate note in his voice when he says I need to let him be strong. He's pleading with me huskily, his big, strong hand trembling as if he's struggling to hold himself back and contain all the lust. I feel the same, the feelings bursting out of me.

"It would break his heart," I whisper, and I finally see it. How immature I've been. How manipulative. How unfair. It crashes into me as the snow begins to fall, coming down in wild swirls. "You're right. I just… I never thought it would happen, but it did."

"It would shatter him," Jacob says, "but you don't need to cry. This was my fault. I'm the one who kissed you, stripped you, spanked you…"

I wipe at my cheeks, embarrassment stinging my cheeks. "I must seem so immature to you."

"Not much more immature than me," he says darkly, "but we can do the right thing now. It'll be tough, but we can put this behind us and pretend it never happened. We have to try."

"We can do it," I say with no conviction in my voice. "I know we can."

"We have to," he says, sounding as unsure as I do. "The alternative is going in there and telling him what happened—telling him what I did. If we keep this up, I'll have to do that. Maybe now we can bury it."

"What about after this?" I ask.

"Never, Emma?—"

"No, I mean…" I continue, ignoring the hurt in my soul at his stiff refusal. He's doing the right thing. "You said you were trying to get yourself killed because you were so guilty. When this is over, will you go back to that?"

He stands up, shouldering his rifle. "I'm going to scout the perimeter."

He walks away, never looking back. I stare at his broad shoulders, his tense, angry gait, his posture ready for war. I wipe my cheeks again, confused heat clashing with the pain of the betrayal. Dad's always been there for and supported me, but I did it again the first chance I got. I put on a sexy outfit and seduced my dream man. I have to stop. I have to be better. I have to pretend I don't have feelings for Jacob, and I never have.

Going into the house, I grab my Kindle, open the thriller I was reading, try to throw myself into the story, and force my spirit to bleed into the electronic pages so I don't have to be me. I hear Dad's voice raised from next door, but it goes quiet again. It's too muffled to make out the words. He's probably taking a business call, having no idea what his best friend and I have just done and no idea that I want to do it again… and again and again.