Jake's View

2

The Carrero Effect

~ The Holiday: Part 1 ~

Jake strolled into his apartment and threw his bag down on the couch. It had been a long trip and an even longer week, but he suddenly felt restless at being back. Normally, getting home brought him all kinds of joy, but this time it felt slightly empty, and he actually wished they'd stayed at that damn dance just so he could still be with her right now. Pacing to the window and looking out across the New York skyline he ran his hand through his hair and cracked his neck in a bid to release some of the tension building up his spine. Flexing his arms over his head and straining the jacket holding him tight. He needed to get out of this monkey suit they called a tux and get comfy, maybe he just needed to feel less business-like and properly relax. Maybe he needed a drink.

He needed to stop fixating on Emma; it wasn't healthy, and the constant stream of thoughts he had about her was getting harder to control. She had been too alluring tonight, that dress had driven him crazy and dancing up close no longer felt safe anymore. He'd made them leave for her sake as much as his own. It was getting to the point he could no longer trust himself not to try kissing her again whenever he was drunk. He wished he had a memory of Chicago, the night she said they had kissed. He wanted to know what it felt like to kiss that sexy pouted mouth fully. Not just a second of brushed lips but a real, deep and meaningful, kiss. He already knew that was an awful idea, she had this much of an effect on him now, a kiss would seal his fate.

Picking up the remote from his coffee table he hit the stereo control and his iTunes playlist came to life, and he turned it up to consume the entire apartment before he headed for his shower; peeling off the bow tie and jacket as he walked into his room. Smiling as lyrics from a song Emma had sent him followed through and he couldn't help thinking of those blue eyes and quick smile and feeling a hint of longing to have her here right now.

God, he missed her already.

The thought hit him in the stomach and he tried to ignore it. They had literally separated less than an hour ago to come home and he was being unbelievably pathetic. He knew he was becoming too attached to her in ways that would make working impossible; always wanting her around and it bothered him because he could tell she didn't feel the same way. He had tried to convince himself a million times that it was because they were more than work colleagues, they were friends. Real friends, maybe even best friends. He was pretty sure he told her more than anyone he knew and that counted for something. He needed to realize what they had was already special. She was too special to him to fuck this up with sex or one-sided emotions.

That first kiss in the hotel had thrown him, had started all of this. He didn't fully understand all the feelings related to it at the time but he sure as hell knew that it wasn't as platonic as he tried to tell himself.

Emma had been shocked, non-responsive, and scared even, and as shit as it made him feel, he couldn't get the feel of her mouth out of his head. For a moment, he had kissed her, and it felt like nothing he had ever known before. His stomach had tingled, his heart rate accelerated, and he had just become zoned-in on everything about her as though time had stood still. He had imprinted every single detail of that night to memory. Her smell, her hair, the way she felt, that goddamn nightdress that plagued him and how it clung to her perfect body. Underneath all her tailored suits and precise clothing was a body made for seduction and she had him with one look.

Since then things had only got worse, every touch, every look, every smile, only served to torture him. It was long past sex, even he could admit that to himself. Right now, just having a chance at another night wrapped up together in a bed would be enough. He never wanted to forget what sleeping beside her had felt like; he had done something he never did with a woman. He had wrapped her in his arms and kept her close all night, unable to set her free even if she wanted to. He had thought that fucker Vanquis had been the cause, but that was a lie. He would always hold her that way given the opportunity. She brought something out of him that he couldn't explain, a need to shield her and keep her close.