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32
I wake early next morning, completely entangled in Jake’s limbs on my side of the bed, lying on my back. He’s wrapped around me possessively. One arm around my waist, pulling me into his abdomen so that his face is in the nape of my neck, the other behind me. His arm is bent so his fingers are entwined in my hair above. His legs looped through mine and twisted so I’m immobile in every way and I am stiflingly hot because he’s so naturally warm. I try to maneuver out of his grasp, but my efforts only cause him to pull me in tighter, making it near impossible to get out.
Who knew Jake was a cuddler in bed? More like a squeezer; suffocates all life out of you.Although part of my brain isn’t surprised because he’s so hands-on and touchy-feely in every part of waking life that I guess being this way in sleep is a given. I lay still, staring at the dark ceiling for a moment listening to the heaviness of his deep breathing. He seems so peacefulRelated chapters
The Carrero Effect 33
He’s dreaming and acting out in his slumber; sleep walking in a way. I’m confused, disappointed, but also relieved and yet conflicted. He’ll never know what we did, he’ll have no memory of it. I’m not sure if I want this or not. I have no clue what the hell I’m doing, or even thinking.I think about kissing him again, trying to rouse him properly, but don’t. Instead, I slide free and get out of bed, aware of how close I just was to screwing everything up with him. Despite being completely captive to how kissing him felt, as though I’ve broken some line of trust, that I abused him in his sleep, and it makes me feel disgusting and vile. No better than my mother’s perverted lovers and what they did to me. I climb out of bed and get up quickly, in a rush to put distance between us and cool my overheated senses.I wander to the sitting room, shaking. Unsure what to feel. I’m angry and so confused.Why would I kiss
The Carrero Effect 34
“I want a second take so I can at least say I remember that time I made out with you in my sleep.” His husky voice sends tremors through my stomach. I wriggle free and he lets me go, grinning wildly. He tilts his head boyishly. “At least this time you’re smiling about it, Bella.” I turn to look at him knowing my face is probably puce from top to bottom, met with the relaxed easy look on his face. I shake my head and tilt it to the side to match his. His mentioning the kitchen kiss in such a blasé way makes me feel calmer. I wish I had his ability to brush things like this off so easily. Make it all out to be nothing except forgettable misdemeanors. I guess when you’ve had more bedroom romps than hot meals, it’s easy. This really is nothing to him at all.“I can’t be mad about things you do while unconscious.” I lie, fully mindful that this is all on me. A secret I’ll never tell him. He stops for a mo
The Carrero Effect 35
Sophie spends a half hour in the room with my mother as we wait in the hall. Jake has asked me a dozen times if I’m sure about not going in and I glare at him coldly. He clamps his mouth shut and looks away. His jaw tenses in agitation, but he leaves it alone.He just doesn’t get it at all; he has no way to understand my relationship with her when his own mother is everything you could want in a parent. Kind, caring, protective, and loyal. She would move mountains for her sons and is an advocate for abused children across all states. He wouldn’t understand.My mother is the polar opposite. I spent my childhood being her carer, protector, and mother. Fighting off aggressive men she brought home. I bought my baseball bat with money from a news delivery job at eleven and I used it more than once to shield her from overly violent arguments with her current beau. Even at such an early age; my fire and rage uncontrollable. It saved me from advances so many time
The Carrero Effect 36
Everything Sophie owns is in the car with our bags, which isn’t much. She is, after all, a runaway from a poor town and impoverished parents. One grubby and torn rucksack that’s so full the zipper is coming undone.The trip to the airfield is short and silent as we all mull things over in our heads. Jake has glanced down at his cell a ton of times and I know he’s been waiting for his mother to call back with more definite plans for Sophie. In the meantime, we have agreed that we’ll both stay at his Manhattan apartment with her until she’s placed in a safe environment through the proper channels. He has more than enough rooms for all of us. Jake feels she needs me there to feel safe as having her with him alone just doesn’t feel right to him, considering her back story. It’s not appropriate.Sophie is sitting with eyes as wide as saucers; all of this so overwhelming to her and I think, realization, is finally dawning that this is th
The Carrero Effect 37
The day is tiring, and my hair has endlessly stuck to my face in this humidity. Vegas is hot and dusty and I’m still grumpy and tired. We flew out here right after Sophie was taken away by the care worker and Jake’s mother, Sylvana Carrero. The beautiful, kind goddess, who looks so alarmingly like her son, but in a very feminine way. I love her in every way; anytime I meet her, she has this easy charm and stunning green eyes and the ability to put you at ease, much like he does.I fought tears when hugging Sophie goodbye; our time together so short, yet she has come to mean so much to me. Jake bought her a new cell and pre-set both of our numbers and emails into it as a parting gift, that way we can always stay in touch and she knows we will be there if she needs us. We are to be her eternal guardians in life, and I know that from this day on, I will always be in Sophie’s story. We have a bond like no other. We understand each other.“Want to try th
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The casino is everything I imagined it would be; I’ve watched enough episodes of CSI to not be awed at the splendor of the vast red carpeted room, filled with machines and tables and noise. He tries his luck at a few tables and soon looks bored. He’s never been much of a gambler; he likes to have situations laid out in a way that he controls the players and always wins. It’s why he’s his father’s second in command with his inherited skills. Although after the Hunter merger, I’m beginning to think his skills surpass that of Senior, seeing he knew how to play him well.“You want to hit a club instead of this?” he’s close to me and I can already tell he’s fed up with the casino. I glance at a couple of women appraising him up and down and am mildly irritated. Maybe I should point him in the direction of the two leggy blondes and go back to the room. Have my quiet night after all. Seeing them look him over like fresh meat
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In the car he lays me down flat on my back and pulls off my shoes, cradling my feet in his lap with warm sensual hands kneading them softly, avoiding conversation or eye contact; I nestle my head against the door to stop the world spinning.His hands are exquisite on my ankles and feet and it feels better than good; no one’s ever taken my shoes off like this. No one has ever just run soft fingers over my feet at all, the way he’s doing now. He’s gentle and attentive, something most people would not expect of Jake Carrero. Handsy, but not in a sleazy way, not really, despite all his jokes and sexual innuendos. He just always makes me feel safe.“Why are you stealing my shoes?” I mumble playfully, trying not to squirm in case he stops. “I like those shoes.” I’m angling for humorous Jake, flirty Jake. I like arguing with him, he’s always funny; I don’t like this silent, pondering version, even though I’m sure h
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“Emma,” he breaths sharply. Jake hauls me toward him, trying to wrap his arms around me, but I don’t like it. I’m in memory mode and men’s unwelcome touch firing through my brain. I don’t want him to see me cry over this, not over these memories and those men. Not over that shit or Ray Vanquis. My mind is a chaos of rage and trauma.“Stop it … Stop it …” I’m resisting him, but he’s stronger and faster and I’m still drunk with slow reactions. The racking sobs making me weak and he’s determined to hold me.“Shhh. Shhhh. Emma. Shhh.” He captures me, cradling my head against his cheek, even though I’m still fighting, but I’m losing. I don’t like the noises coming from deep within me, like I’m spiraling out of control. I hate this. I’m not weak. I’m not vulnerable. The wails don’t sound like they’re coming from me and I push his hands
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