“Yes?”
“I like this.” His fingertips skirt down the side of my stomach gently, causing me to inhale sharply in response. I flinch and move back, reeling, unsure. His touch feels so different … So not Jake! It makes my skin tingle and erupt, then crawl back in revulsion and fear. I don’t even want to evaluate whether it is good or bad. It’s wrong. It’s too intimate. He lifts his hands defensively because he knows he’s overstepped the mark.
“I’m sorry … Emma. I’m going to bed … I’m drunk as fuck.” He looks pained and uneasy.
“It’s okay. It’s fine. Go to bed.” I know I’m stiff and tense, I can hear the coldness in my own voice, my heart pounding erratically like a scared deer caught in headlights.
“Don’t say it like that.” He moves forward gently, lifting his fingers to trace my jaw, his
