We’re close; not so close that we’re touching but within arm’s length of one another. So when Jacoby pauses with the bottle to his lips, catching me staring out of the corner of his eye and quirks an eyebrow at me, I know he can see the rapidly spreading flush covering the crests of my cheeks.
His beer bottle hits the coffee table with a loud thunk, and I jump. I need to get control of myself before I scare him off. He drapes a long, tanned arm across the back of the couch and begins twirling a tendril of my hair around his finger, watching his movements as if it’s the most intriguing show on Broadway.
“It’s so soft.”
“What?” I reply, lost in the gentle tugs against my scalp, which feel surprisingly soothing.
“Your hair. It’s silky soft.”
I’d have to be blind to miss the hooded, soft look of his eyes as he continues playing with my hair. My stomach pirouettes in the most enticing way.
“So,” I begin, stalling but knowing this conversation needs to happen before I bolt and catch the next plane to Florida. “You asked me to come, now I’m here. What do you want to talk about?”
Jacoby’s hand never falters as he shifts his eyes from his ministrations to look at my face. He studies me for a moment before he speaks.
“I think we have a lot to talk about, don’t you?”
“Um, okay. But you start.” I press my palms together between my thighs to try to control the trembling of my fingers. I don’t know why this conversation has me so on edge, but I’m freaking the hell out.
“You want to tell me what’s up with those text messages from your friend?”
No, no I do not. He wasn’t supposed to find out about that. And I can’t even get pissed at Em, because she thought she was talking to me.
“I’m guessing from this afternoon, you got the gist of it,” I mutter, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. I guess I can’t really be mad at him, either. His snooping invaded my privacy, but he was looking out for me from Wyatt.
His eyes caress a heated trail across my face as he studies me.
“I got the gist of it alright. But, Sweetheart, what I want to know is why?”
My chin jerks down towards my throat. “Why?” I ask back, my brain not processing his question. It’s obvious, isn’t it?
Two strong, beautiful hands attached to an even more beautiful man gently grasp either side of my head, his thumbs softly stroking the hollows of my cheeks. The feel of him, the soft concern reflected in the espresso pools of his eyes has a dizzying effect. I want to face plant in his chest and not move until I have to come up for air.
“You aren’t getting it. You are safe with me. I won’t let anything, or anyone, hurt you. So having said that more than once, yeah, I’m asking you why? Why go through that danger, that trouble, when I’m here to protect you?”
My saliva feels like sludge, thick and sticky in my throat, and it takes several tries to swallow it down before my tongue is unglued enough to speak.
“Jacoby,” I whisper, overcome with a desperate need to have this man protect me. My heart is threatening to escape my chest with each rapid thump. But even feeling a desperation strong enough to bring me to my knees and beg for his protection, I know my body is stupid. It lies to me. Makes me feel things that I’m not allowed to feel. With each breath, I remember I’m all alone in this world, and I have nobody to rely on but myself.
I try to soften my rejection, and my voice comes out winded when I tell him more of the truth than I intended.
“I don’t need your protection. The only person I can rely on is me.”
“Tatum—ˮ
“No! Please listen to me.” Jacoby closes his mouth, but his eyes still watch me warily, as if he’s not sure I’m about to lay it on him or bolt from his house.
“You saved me. If you hadn’t shown up last Friday, I can only guess what would have happened and what that would do to me. You were here for me when I had nobody. I hear you, okay? I hear what you’re offering me. But what you have to realize is that I’ve only ever relied on myself. I take care of myself and life has shown me that no matter how hard I want to believe someone else will be there to carry the load, when the time comes, I’m always alone.
“I bought the gun as a precaution. Was it illegal and stupid the way I went about it? Yeah. I’ll admit that. But it’s not the first time I’ve had to put myself in danger in order to make myself safer. It’s a double edged sword. You’re here now, and I have no doubt you can keep me safe if I need it, but what happens next week? Next month? However long it takes for you to realize I’m not worth it and disappear? Where does that leave me?”
My chest is heaving with the force of my speech, not only the words but the emotions this talk sends coursing through me. The truth rings out in the air around us, nearly as palpable as the couch we’re sitting on.
I lift my hands to cover his still gently holding my head, and my eyes are locked to his. Then, forcing a fresh breath of air in my lungs, I whisper, “I need to protect myself from this shit with Wyatt, but the real reason for what I did is to protect myself from you.”
Holding his gaze suddenly feels too heavy so I drop my eyes to stare at his lips. Now why the hell did I do that? The memory of his mouth pressed to mine streaks across my brain like a shooting star in the night sky. His lips are both full, the bottom slightly more so than the top. He has a perfect bowed arch, which makes his mouth sit in a perpetual pout when his face is relaxed.
The hands cradling my head tense slightly, so I reluctantly lift my eyes back to his.
“You’re not getting it,” Jacoby says softly. My brow crinkles in confusion.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ll have to show you.”
“Jacoby, I’m sorry but I don’t—ˮ
One second I’m sitting on the couch, and the next, his hands release my face only to grasp me beneath my armpits and haul my body over to him where he drags me into his lap. As soon as I’m close enough, he releases me briefly to wrap a strong arm around my back, crushing me to his chest while his other hand slides my thigh over his lap so I’m straddling him.
Once I’m secured where he wants me, and sure I’m no longer breathing out of pure shock, he moves his hand from my thigh to slide around the back of my neck, bringing my forehead to touch his. In order not to topple over, my own hands grasp onto the shirt covering his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into the sensitive skin of my palms.
“Do you think after the past few days, most importantly this afternoon, that I’m going to just let you go?” he whispers, his lips hardly a fingers width from mine. His breath is like a warm tropical breeze against my parted lips.
“I don’t think. I know,” I reply, wanting to squeeze my eyes shut from the knife plunging into my heart. It’s inevitable. We’ve never had a future, because we were doomed from the start. Isn’t that what he’s been telling me this entire time? This is wrong. We can’t work.
“I don’t think you do. Because the second you leapt into my arms and kissed me like I was the air you needed to breathe, you became mine.”
Duh-dum, duh-dum-dum.
That’s the sound of my heart stopping dead in my chest.
Jacoby doesn’t need me to respond. He puts pressure on my neck, bringing my lips close enough so he can capture them with his own. The kiss starts off soft and gentle, seeking and learning, tasting and being tasted.
There’s no rush, no urgency to the way his tongue tangles with mine. Just the gentle sway of our heads switching positions, left, right, left, back again as we explore and search each other’s mouths. Discovering the way he responds when I gently lick the side of his tongue and the roof of his mouth. The way a soft moan rises from my throat when he carefully nips my lower lip before caressing the spot with his tongue.