The Truest Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 4)
And he’d pounced when she was at her most vulnerable. When she was shaken by the incident with his father. He knew her defenses were low, and he’d jumped on the chance to be with her.
Fuck, it was such an opportunistic thing to do. He tried so hard to be better than his father … but he’d dragged Jack down in the mud with him. He feared maybe a little too much of Ian had rubbed off on him.
Feeling sick with the guilt, Jack drank in the sight of Em. He needed to give her space. He needed her to know he wasn’t a total bastard.
But he was a total bastard because the primal urge to get back into that bed with her was so strong, he actually took a few steps toward her. Cursing inwardly, Jack caught himself and strode quietly out of her bedroom. He’d wait for her downstairs because staying in here with her was too much temptation.
Images from last night flashed through his mind, making him groan.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her. Mouth around him. Getting off on sucking him. Riding him. Getting off on riding him. Her hair brushing his chest, her breasts bouncing with her undulations. He could see her beneath him, her face flushed, her mouth parted to allow the moans to escape as he thrust into her.
Fuck, he was getting hard again.
Striding into the living room, Jack sat on the sectional.
He’d wait for Emery to wake up and he’d apologize, and he’d promise to never take advantage of her again. That he would wait. He wanted her to know her own mind. To know that she was ready to trust him. It wouldn’t last between them otherwise, and Jack wanted forever with this woman.
A half hour passed. Jack made coffee and fiddled around with a stupid puzzle game app on his phone, waiting for Emery to wake up. At around 5:45 a.m., his phone rang in his hand, and Rebecca’s name appeared across the screen. He answered quickly because (a) it was early for Becs to be calling, and (b) he didn’t want to wake Em before she was ready.
“Becs?”
“Jack.” His sister let out a shaky exhale. “Jack, I’ve been with Mom and Jamie all night. Mom’s not good. She’s … she’s a mess over what happened to me and she’s freaking out about being fodder for the town gossips. She’s locked herself in the bathroom and I’m terrified she’s going to do something stupid.”
Jesus Christ.
Jack pushed off Em’s couch. Rosalie Devlin had always dealt with life with a quiet dissociation. She bottled up everything. Jack had attempted to talk to her about his father and brothers, but Rosalie clammed up. He’d known that one day, all those bottled-up feelings would need a release.
“I’m on my way.” Jack hung up and glared at the staircase.
He didn’t want to leave Em like this. He didn’t want her to think he’d abandoned her. But his family needed him right now.
Jack searched for a notepad and pen. He eventually found one in the sideboard but he saw her Glock in there too. The memory of her facing his father, expertly clutching the Glock, hit him. Em had shot a hole through Ian’s hand with startling accuracy. The knowledge that she used to shoot competitively made Jack’s lips twitch. It shaved at his terror when he remembered the sight of Ian training his gun on her.
Em really was full of surprises.
He sighed as he leaned on the sideboard to write her a note.
Em, I wanted to stay but stuff with my family has come up that I need to take care of. I’ll explain later. Just know I’m really sorry. I feel like I took advantage of you last night. I’m a selfish bastard.
I’ll give you some space—
Jack’s phone beeped midsentence. It was a text from his sister.
Hurry, Jack!
Goddammit.
He scribbled his name at the bottom of the note that didn’t say all he wanted to say and left it on her island where she’d definitely see it. Regret, guilt, and worry pursued him as he hurried out and got into his car to race to the Devlin mansion.
23
Emery
Seven weeks later
* * *
My pulse raced as I lowered myself into the seat across from Jessica in her office.