Jace: Ouch.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this giddy talking to a guy. Even though he’s this talented athlete with a laser focus on his career, he also makes me laugh like no one else.
I know, without a doubt, that I could chat with him for hours on end, but he really needs to sleep. Between spending time with Tanner and me, I know his routine has suffered tremendously in the last few weeks. It’s written all over his face and in the dark circles under his eyes.
And I want to be there for him too, even if it’s as a silent supporter, making sure he gets the rest he needs to function better. Not every support needs to be loud and fierce.
My phone lights up with Jace’s picture, and I smile like an idiot when I answer it. “Didn’t I tell you to go to sleep?”
“You did.” His voice is husky. It’s incredibly sexy and does something funny to my insides. “I just wanted to hear your voice before I pass out.”
“That’s acceptable.” I cuddle deeper into my blanket, wishing I was cuddled up with him instead. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He lets out a long breath. “The guys helped.”
“I’m glad they did.”
“Me too.” He pauses. “Hey, Em?”
I doubt I’ll ever get over how much I love it when he calls me that. It’s ours. “Mmm?”
“I miss you.” The confession comes out quietly and quickly.
I don’t think everyone would have understood his whispered words, but I did.
Tragedies connect people in a way that isn’t possible otherwise. The bond is instant and deep, cutting straight through layers that otherwise might never be penetrated or would take a much longer time to work through.
Tanner’s incident did this for us.
It’s like he got this instant line to my heart, an express line, and boy, is he cashing in.
Now I can only hope there won’t be any obstacles in the way to get that bridge between us built more solidly. Even though it’s already built, it’s still new and fragile and needs to be treated with caution and care.
I’m also a big believer in honesty, which sounds incredibly hypocritical considering I haven’t told Jace about the audition yet.
Even though I’m suddenly not as excited about the possibility to move away for the show. Because how would this work out?
“I miss you too.” It’s easy to say the words back when they’re true.
“Lunch tomorrow?”
“Lunch tomorrow.” My confirmation fills me with anticipation of seeing him soon and being able to spend more than just a few minutes with him.
“Sweet dreams, ladybug.”
“Sweet dreams, Jace.”
With that we hang up, and it doesn’t take me long to fall asleep afterward, my heart happy and full.
Sometimes, all it takes is one mistake.
My mistake today was to run to the boutique mall next to the grocery store to get that shea body butter I like so much.
Major error on my part.
I didn’t expect to run into my mom when I walked out of the store.
Even worse, she’s not alone.
Her friend Clara—I use the term friend very loosely when it comes to my family since I’m not sure they’re capable of real friendships—is with her, their chins tilted in a way that always makes it seem like they’re looking down on you, even when you’re taller than them.
Sadly, I don’t have enough time to hide, and they spot me right away. Eye contact is made, which makes it impossible to pretend I didn’t see them.
“Hey, Mom. Clara.” I air-kiss them the way they prefer it, feeling stupid, as always.
“Hello, Emilia.” My mother looks pristine in one of her beloved blouse and pantsuit combination.
“Emilia.” Clara’s voice is just as nasally as I remember it, but I give her a big smile nonetheless.
Not because that’s how I was raised—maybe a courteous smile, yes, but not a real, genuine one—but because that’s who I am.
I’ve always tried to appease my parents, hoping they’d one day look at me with approval in their gazes like they do with my sister. Maybe I could have gotten there had I completely submitted to them, but I’m incapable of it. Instead, I usually did double loads like when I majored in business and music. It’s exhausting.
I’m exhausted.
My major contributor to our family drama is my occupation, of course. Everyone wants me to join the family business, which would pretty much be the equivalent of a death by boredom to me.
How they cannot understand that I would never fit into their world is beyond me. Not to mention, they don’t even seem to like me.
Clara’s gaze is stuck on my shirt, and I stiffen when I realize what she’s looking at. My Kinder Street shirt. My dream show. My dream job. I’ve been in love with that show for as long as I can remember.
Our housekeeper Amy, who doubled as a nanny when I grew up, let me watch it in the kitchen every morning before school when my parents were doing their “important” things.
My mom must have caught on to what Clara’s staring at, or it could be the elbow that Clara’s jabbing into my mother’s side.
Both their noses wrinkle identically, and it’s almost comical.
For a moment, I worry she might bring up our quick dinner departure, but then I remember it ended with my sister—who still hasn’t said a peep after telling me to mind my own business—and her cheating dick of a husband, and I know she would never air that dirty laundry in front of her friend.
I expected my mom to be on my case for our rude departure and the fact that she wasn’t impressed with Jace. Possibly some other insults thrown in for good measure. Usually, she doesn’t waste a chance to criticize me, but there’s been . . . nothing more. Clearly, I still don’t rate on their radar. Why do I care?
My mom sighs heavily, in that exaggerated way she likes to do so often when dealing with me and points at my shirt. “Do you have to wear shirts like this in public? Don’t you find that rather inappropriate for your age?”
“Why?” I swallow the acid burning in my throat at the tone she’s using with me. “You know I love that show. It’s got great content and is incredibly reputable in the industry.”
“Do you work there?” Clara’s voice reaches new levels of nasality.
My mom waves her away. “Oh please, Clara, don’t be ridiculous. Emilia’s done playing childish games after finally finishing that job at that other obnoxious kids’ show. She’s going to get a real job now.”
Clara hangs on to my mother’s words and nods enthusiastically before they both turn their gazes back on me. Like I’m a doll they can play with as they please.
I feel like a million stadium lights are directed my way. I start sweating, and the weight of this whole situation, the words my mother just uttered, pushes down on me with such a force, I feel dizzy.
Especially since I finally received my invitation to audition for Kinder Street this morning. I’d checked my email one more time before I left the house in a blissful bubble, now one step closer to my dream job, just to have these two trample on my joy like it’s nothing.
“Isn’t that so, Emilia?” My mother’s brow is raised as much as her cosmetic procedures allow. Her gaze is impatient, like she’s trying to talk to a child that doesn’t understand what she’s saying.
I continue to stare at her, trying to focus on my breathing before I lose my shit. I will not break down in front of these two and give them even more ammunition.
“I’ve got to go.” The voice that comes out of my mouth sounds far away, but I’m relieved to hear that the words sound strong and confident, not weak and crushed like I feel on the inside.
I turn on my heel and walk as fast as my feet can carry me without breaking into a sprint, my sandals slapping against the polished mall floors.
When I’m finally in the confines of my car—thank goodness I didn’t come on my moped today—I have to focus on my breaths for several minutes before
I’m calm enough to start the car and get out of here.
With one goal in mind.
Jace.
Because I can’t think about what just happened or it will ruin my time with him.
Instead, I want to forget.
I want a distraction.
And what better distraction is there than a six-foot-four, blue-eyed hottie whose smile is always on my mind?
Twenty
Jace
I’m just getting the lasagna out of the oven when a car door slams outside.
Perfect timing.
After placing the baking form on the stove, I take off the oven mitts, and make my way to the door.
A thrill of anticipation tickles my neck as I swing the door wide open, staring straight into Em’s beautiful eyes.
But something’s off. They’re duller than when I last saw her. She’s smiling at me, but the spark never makes it to her eyes.
Taking her by the hand, I pull her inside. “What’s going on?”
Her eyes widen for a brief moment before she shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”
Which means something.
“Nothing?”
Another shake of her head. “I don’t want to talk or even think about it. I want to forget.”
“You want to forget?” Apparently, I’m just going to repeat everything like a damn parrot, my brain busy trying to figure out what could have happened that’s made her so distraught. It must have been bad enough, or big enough, that she doesn’t want to tell me.
“Yes.” Something changes in her expression as she takes a step toward me. “Make me forget, Jace. Please.”
With my back at the door, I have no place to go when she closes the distance between us, not that I really want to.
A part of me rebels inside, demanding to know what happened to her before we take this any further.
But that part is quickly shoved away when her body presses against mine and her arms brush up my chest and loop around my neck.
I’m still a little dumbfounded when she goes up on her toes. A second later, her mouth crashes on mine.
Fuck yes.
Her lips are soft and warm, and it only takes me a moment before instinct takes over. My arms move around her body, one hand pressing into her lower back to pull her closer, the other circling around her neck, my fingertips gently massaging her silky skin.
Her mouth opens on a whimper, and I don’t need another invitation. I dive in, ready to explore. Ready to claim what I’ve wanted for so long. I suck on her tongue and bite her lip, and she meets me stroke for stroke, nib for nib. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s been as desperate for this as I am.
The sensation, the pure lust, is so overwhelming that I don’t even notice her hands have left my neck and instead found their way under my shirt until she lightly scrapes her fingernails across my stomach.
Shit.
My hard-on strains behind the fly of my jeans, painfully so, and I already regret putting them on in the first place.
Even though it goes against everything I want right now, we need to slow this down, or I’m going to take her right here on the floor.
Her hands on me, especially on my bare skin, it’s too much, more than my body can take.
But I’m selfish and can’t stop yet. I’m not even close to being done with her.
Taking things in my hands, literally, I pull her fingers away from my skin and spin us around, pressing her back into the door, with her arms pinned by her sides.
Her breathing is heavy, her chest rising and falling against my own as I peer down at her. With her lust-filled eyes, and flushed cheeks, she’s even more beautiful.
So damn hot.
Neither one of us says a word, and when I bend toward her, she tilts her head back eagerly, those swollen lips reaching for me until they get what they want.
This time, I try to turn it down a notch, keeping it slow and steady. Exploratory, deep, and sensual.
If her moans and whimpering noises are anything to go by, she’s enjoying it too. I let go of her hands, silently hoping she’ll behave this time.
A minute later, they’re on my ass, and I can’t help myself and chuckle.
Pulling back, I look down at her. “You’ve got some wandering hands there, ladybug.”
“Sorry.” She gives me a sheepish look, and I take her cheeks into my hands, cupping the contours of her gorgeous face.
“So beautiful.” I don’t give her a chance to say anything because I’m already busy devouring her mouth again.
When she pulls my bottom lip into her mouth and gently nibbles on it, I almost throw my earlier resolve out the window.
Who says I can’t have sex right here on the floor?
I groan, my cock pushing unhappily against the back of my fly.
When she whispers a demanding “Touch me” against my mouth, I know I either have to pull the brake right now or there will be no going back from this.
After one small taste, I know she’s like a drug to me. She’s already infiltrated my system, potent but so damn good. This is one addiction I can sign up for, one I want every damn day for the rest of my life.
Because this woman is worth it.
She might be a little odd and crazy, but I’ve come to like her odd and crazy. A lot. I’ve been craving her so badly that I have to look at her when she’s in the same room as me. She’s like a rare natural phenomenon—impossible to ignore, absolutely breathtaking, and one of a kind.
And . . . I can’t do this with her right now.
As much as I want this—and shit, I want to bury myself deep within her—this isn’t like her. I have no doubt she can turn into a sex kitten like this, but not today. Not the way she attacked me when I opened the door.
Make me forget, Jace.
Her whispered words from earlier slam into me like a sledgehammer, and I want to bang my head into the wall. I’m such an asshole.
There was obviously something wrong, something happened, and I wasn’t even able to turn off my dick for two seconds to figure it out first. Taking her excuse with merely a shoulder shrug.
That realization pushes through the lust fog, and I pull back.
I lean my forehead against hers, not ready to break all contact with her. Our labored breathing is the only sound in the house, and I close my eyes, trying to override my body’s wants and needs with doing the right thing.
Reaching down, I take one of her hands and interlace my fingers with hers before straightening.
“Let’s go eat.” I ignore her shocked expression and pull her with me to the kitchen.
While she’s still too stunned to say a word, I hand her a plate and start dishing out the lasagna. After placing a fork on both of our plates, I grab mine with one hand and use the other to gently push her to the table.
We’re quiet as we eat, and Em is doing her best to avoid my gaze. Using her hair as a shield, she hides most of her face from me, but I still notice the glances she throws my way when she thinks I’m not looking.
Whenever I catch one, her face flushes, color rising in those delectable cheeks that I want to hold in my hands, preferably while kissing her.
Let’s face it, I might be sitting here, casual as fuck, eating my lasagna.
But on the inside, I’m still hung up on that kiss.
Because it was one of the hottest kisses of my life. I’m not sure exactly why, but maybe it’s because it was with Em, my slightly crazy nanny. And of all things, she was initiating it too, practically jumping me.
I’m ready for round two, and then some.
Time to push though, because I need to figure out what happened, what caused such a reaction in her.
“So, you want to tell me what happened before you got here?”
Her fork stops mid-air to her mouth and she grimaces. “Do we have to talk about it?”
The sigh she releases is heavy and filled with discomfort.
I stay quiet and give her time.
Just when I think she m
ight not answer, she places her fork on the plate and leans back in her chair, fidgeting and squirming. “I ran into my mom.”
I grunt, not trusting myself to refrain from saying something I might regret.
“She was with a friend. And let’s just say, the conversation didn’t go very well.” She blows out a puff of air, the hair near her face lifting from the airflow.
“I’m sorry.” I swallow everything else I want to say, because it’s easy to tell by her slouched figure and the sad expression on her face how much this impacted her.
Family can be a real bitch sometimes.
I’ve gotten lucky in that department, but growing up, I saw enough times that family does not automatically equal a solid support system. It also doesn’t equal respect, kindness, or love. And it’s hard to let go of that ideal. It’s written all over Em’s face.
But there will be a breaking point when everyone hits their personal rock bottom depending on how much they can or want to take. Maybe she’s reached that today.
Secretly, I hope she did, because she deserves so much more than what she gets from her family. She deserves loyalty, compassion, and affection thrown her way en masse, just like she gives it to others.
“They said some things about my shirt.”
“Your shirt?”
“Yeah.” She sits up straight and pulls on the bottom of her shirt to smoothen out the bumps and wrinkles so the writing is easier to see.
“Kinder Street? Isn’t that the show you and Tanner love to watch?” Why on earth would they have something against a kids’ show? Even though, from the way they seem to handle everything else, they’d have something against others breathing the same air as them.
I’d never felt so judged in my life. Admittedly, I hung around a lot of athletes and athletes’ families, so my swimming profession has never been frowned upon. But to judge me presuming I didn’t earn a lot? It truly was ridiculous and laughable.
It wasn’t until I noticed the . . . shame and humiliation that crossed Em’s face that I grew angry. At that point, I knew I had to get her out of there. Did her mother ream her out about our departure?
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