Page 18 of Not Falling for the Forward
His heart is racing under my hands and it’s slightly comforting to know he is affected by me as much as I am by him. “Why didn’t you use my number?” He asks, yielding no space between us.
“I...” I feel a blush make its way up my cheeks as I avoid his eyes. “I don’t know,” I admit, suddenly very unsure as to why I haven’t contacted this man.
“You can use it tonight when you get home, to let me know you’re safe.” He winks.
He fucking winks.
And shit, if it is the sexiest thing I have ever seen any man do, ever. He’s so fucking gorgeous. Why haven’t I contacted this man before? What a perfect person to help me get back on the horse. He clearly wants me. He would know what he was doing. He probably looks incredible naked. Scratch that, he will one hundred percent look incredible naked. I don’t know if it’s his previous confession or the alcohol that gives me the confidence to reply, “You could always come home with me and then you would know.”
Jack’s head falls back, and I feel his groan rumble in his chest under my hand. “Fuck. I want nothing more, but I won’t be coming home with you tonight,” he grunts out through gritted teeth. He leans his head down and his lips gently brush mine. “You will let me know that you’re back safe. Or I might just turn up to check on you in the morning.”
I let out an incredulous laugh at his warning, like he would just show up at my house the morning after seeing me on a night out. Heleans further into me, crushing me against the bar. “Don’t test me, Em. I don’t break my promises.”
I don’t reply because it’s fucking ridiculous that he would even think about showing up at my house if I didn’t text him to say I was home. He’s probably going to forget this whole conversation in half an hour and find some other girl to do that couch thing he promised with.
Damn shame.
Jack doesn’t say anything else, but he also doesn’t move away. Neither do I. Our eyes are locked, chests moving together as we breathe each other’s air. It’s as if we are daring the other to make a move. Seeing how far the other will go. He’s warm and solid, his arms cage me in, making me feel as if this space is just for us.
His tongue sweeps out, wetting his bottom lip making it look delectable. Kissable.
I tilt my head slightly and raise on my toes to close the gap between us. Fuck it. I want to know what that lip tastes like. Just one kiss. He bends his head closer.
“OH MY GOD! Are you Jack Cartwright!!??” A very loud, very annoying female voice makes both of our heads snap up, saving me from my choice.
I drop my hands from Jacks chest as if he has burned me. We both look over to where the voice has come from, behind us at the bar. Theverypublic bar that I just almost kissed averyfamous person in.
What am I doing?
I blame the Sauvignon.
I push Jack on the chest slightly and he reluctantly steps back, dropping his arms to his sides. His eyes, still dark and wanting, don’t leave mine.
“It is you, isn't it! Oh my god!!” The woman is shouting now, and she tugs his left arm to turn him around.
He looks at me expression now pained and sighs through his nose, “Stay here,” He orders and starts to turn, only to double back and add, “please.” Then his whole face changes into cocky media Jack and he turns around.
So that one is the act then?
“Hi!” he says enthusiastically. “Yes, it’s me, would you like a picture?” he asks the blonde who has waved three of her friends over. I can’t help but admire how quickly he can change into his ‘man of the fans’ persona.
A small group forms around Jack, and they all have their phones out. I spin quickly to face the bar. I do not want to end up on some tabloid as Jack Cartwright's latest conquest.
I glance back and Jack is in full press mode. I don’t know how he does it, all the attention, the constantly having to smile and answer questions. Of course, it can’t sting too much when four stunning blondes want to get in close for a picture. I notice he has his hands firmly clasped together in front of him as the girls all but fight each other for his attention.
Movement at the bar takes my attention back from Jack and his groupies. Six glasses are placed in front of me. Ahh yes, the drinks I ordered and abruptly forgot about in favour of feeling Jack’s semi-erect penis rub against my hip. Man, if that was it only partially erect…
No.
No. We are done with that now. That was too close.
I put the drinks on a tray—HA, good luck drunk to Emily trying to balance these—and risk another glance at media Jack. He is surrounded by even more fans now, smiling, taking pictures.
I shake my head and smile at myself, who am I even kidding, thinking about fucking him? We are from completely different worlds.
Chapter eight
Emily
