Chapter 60

“No, I don’t, and I like that you like my smile, shorty.” He stops and pushes me against the wall to
steady me, pulls his cell from his pocket, swipes the screen, checks who’s calling and pushes it back
from where he produced it.

“I like when you laugh like that.” He glances up at me and it’s then I realize I’ve been giggling for no
reason.

Where did that come from?

“Like what?” I ask innocently, still unable to stop grinning like a freak. Maybe it has something to do
with the fact he has my body pressed to the wall with his and he is every bit my idea of a good dream.

“Unguarded … I like drunk Emma.” He peels me back off the wall and leads me to my room,
disappointment flitting through me that it was fleeting.

“I like drunk Emma too.” I sigh, following him as he opens the door, his hand still encompassing mine.
She gets to touch Jake in ways sober Emma doesn’t.

“I thought you said you didn’t?” he squints at me with a confused smirk. Pulling me through to my
bedroom.

“I was jealous … You like her way too much.” I exhale moodily and he laughs at me again, only this
time it’s deep and heartfelt as though I’ve said the most hilarious thing. I pout at him, annoyed that he
finds everything I say so funny.

“You’re the same Emma … No reason to be jealous, Bambino.” He calms his laughing, pulls me to the
base of my bed, letting me go, sits me down, and pulls my sandals off my feet easily. I like when he
takes care of me like this, as though I’m something more to him than just his PA.



“Nooo, you like one more than the other.” I exhale loudly. He smiles up at me and moves closer, so
we’re nose to nose, him bent down at my knees, his hand comes to my hair and ruffles it, toying with its
new shortness.

He really is infatuated with my new haircut. Best idea ever!

“I like both versions of you, in different ways, equally.” He utters, keeping close. The lights are off in the
room and the only light is from the moon shining in the porthole window beside us. It’s so intimate and
romantic.

“What do you mean ‘different ways’?” I’m inquisitive, being drunk seems to make me crave for
knowledge and to keep him this close. He sighs, running a hand across my face lightly, moving my hair
to tuck behind my ear, erupting a million tingles across my skin. He chews his lip in that childish way he
has when he’s trying to think out an answer before he speaks. He has no idea how much it makes me
ache to bite his lip too.

“PA Emma is cool and capable, and she’s the best assistant I’ve ever had, she’s funny and sharp and
she’s good at what she does. I like PA Emma.” He nods to himself as though rattling off a tick list.
Finished with my shoes, he kneels up, so even though he’s still on the floor his head is towering over
me.

“You like her in an employee-employer way?” I reach up and toy with his spiky hair, seeing as he keeps
messing mine up, I think it should work both ways; he raises his eyebrows in surprise, but only smiles
and lets me continue.

“Yes and no … I just like her because she’s her.” His gaze comes to rest on mine, distracting me from
his hair. It feels good and exactly how I thought it would feel.

“And drunk Emma?”



“I’m a little infatuated with drunk Emma, if I’m being honest.” He pulls my hand down and straightens
up.

“You are? Why?” I sulk at both his answer and his removal of my fingers.

“Because she’s fun … She doesn’t guard what she says … or does.” He nods toward my fingers to
prove the point. “She giggles and lets her hair down.”

“So do most of your leggy boobs!” I sulk at being compared to one of them.

Except am I not the one doing the comparing?

I’m confused.

“They’re not the same. Not even close, Bella. They don’t have the other side to her … That’s what I
mean by “I like you both”. One can’t exist without the other. I wouldn’t like there to be only one and not
the other.”

“So, you like my split personality? A lover of the cray cray.” I grin playfully, motioning in circles at my
temples and cross my eyes. He chuckles and moves another hair from my face. Seems short hair
equals messy hair that clings to your skin at every opportunity. Not that having him stroke it away is a
bad thing, it’s a very, very good thing.

“It’s not split though, there’s glimpses of both versions all the time, just one chooses to dominate … I
see drunk Emma sometimes in PA Emma when she occasionally relaxes too.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know how to relax all the time.” I confess, with a conspiratorial wink. Aiming for
sass and failing.

“I think she’s scared.” He answers thoughtfully.



“Why?” I retort slightly shocked, watching him carefully; I want to know why he thinks this third person
me is scared. I’m curious as to how he sees her and why he believes that.

He stands up, his hands sliding across his chest; he looks too appealing standing like that, touchable,
grope able and I quickly avert my eyes. I’m conscious of the fact my head is now level with his crotch.
I’ll definitely not look. Much.

“Because letting her guard down means she lets go of a little bit of control, and she likes to hold it all
together. Letting go makes her vulnerable, leaves her exposed, and that’s worse than death for her.”
His voice is steady and low. My breath catches in my throat with a tug of surprise in my chest. A little
emotional suddenly that he really seems to know me.

“If I’m vulnerable, people can hurt me … Men can hurt me.” I whisper into the darkness of my room, too
honest in my drunken stupor as the words slide out. I sense his eyes on me as he bends so his
forehead meets mine and presses our noses together, an awkward position for him but the cutest move
I’ve ever seen him make; there’s something insanely innocent and tender about it. I glance up at him.

“I’d never let anyone hurt you, Emma.” He breathes against me. His hands coming down to hold his
weight on the mattress at either side of my thighs, so it brings his mouth so close to mine, we’re
sharing air.

“What if you couldn’t stop them?” I sound young and scared, suddenly serious, and afraid.

“I’d always stop them.” He promises, with conviction and I sink forward wanting the safety in his arms I
feel when he’s around me. Reaching up so I can wrap myself around his neck and press us together
more firmly.

“You won’t always be around.” I whisper quietly.



“I’m always around, if you haven’t noticed.” He smirks, his voice low, urging me to pull my face away
enough to stay level with his eyes.

“I guess.”

“Let go, Emma … Trust me to look after you … If not long-term then for these two weeks at least. Trust
me to protect you.” He’s so endearing in this moment; I could never deny him.

“I’ll try,” I whisper. Not wanting to part from this intimate position, my heart bursting with the tenderness
I have for him right now, the sensual emotions swirling.

“Good girl.” His arms slide around me, pulling me up to him slightly for a gentle embrace, lifting me
from the bed.

“Don’t say that to me.” I pause mid-hold, causing him to halt. My voice childish as it hits me somewhere
in the gut.

“Why?”

I don’t know.

Jake called me it before, and I felt like he was talking to a puppy. Maybe it’s calling me “girl” … Ray
called me girl. Stupid, slutty, cock teasing, little girl. I always hated it.

“Just don’t …” I flinch as he smiles and slowly pulls me the rest of the way to cuddle me; I’m on my feet
against him. It’s unexpected and so gentle and I’m instantly sagging into his body greedily. Held solidly
in a bear hug. When he loosens his hold to let me go, I stumble backward, grabbing onto him, but the
sheer suddenness of it catches him off guard. His own drunken stupor causing a loss of balance. He
leans forward to steady me, catch me, losing his footing too.



Somehow, we both end up falling flat on the bed behind me. Him on top of me, nose to nose, and
laughing like fools at the awkwardness of our ungraceful collapse. His face so close, like the night we
shared a bed, his mouth too inviting. Everything within me clenching tight and hungry for him now that
his body is fully connected to mine in such an intimate pose. His lips too kissable to be ignored.

I’m drunk and I’m going to regret it so badly when I sober up, but in the mind of a drunken, wanton
female who fancies this man crazily, what I’m doing seems totally fine. I throw my mouth against his in
a rather satisfying manner, soft lips hungrily connecting, instantly on fire. Aching to feel his mouth on
mine, like that night in Chicago.


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