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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Emma…
I’m not sure how long I sleep on top of Jax, and I only have a faint memory of him pulling a blanket over me, an even fainter one of him powering up his computer and settling against the headboard next to me. The next real grasp on reality I have is when I wake to the roiling of my stomach. “Oh, God. This can’t be happening.” I toss away the blanket and roll off the mattress, that horrible sensation in my belly knifing deeper, promising a horrific result. I’m going to be sick.
Running through the shadows of the now dark room, only Jax’s bedside lamp as my guide, I stumble. Jax is suddenly there, catching me, helping me to the bathroom and flipping on the light for me. I want to tell him to go, that he can’t see me like this, but it’s too late. I all but dive for the toilet and go down on my knees. Jax is right there beside me, holding my hair. I heave and it’s all over. The price for drinking has been paid. Punishment that feels eternal before it ends, and I reach for the handle, flushing away the evidence. Jax hands me a towel, his other hand still holding my hair.
“I hate that you just saw that,” I say, accepting his offering and wiping my face before sitting down on the floor with my back against the tub. My shoes are gone. Wonderful. I made the man take off my shoes and he didn’t even get sex in return.
I press my hand to my face. “I can’t believe I just threw up in front of you.”
He moves closer, on one knee in front of me, his hand settling on my calves, his touch possessive, familiar in the way people in relationships are familiar. “How do you feel now?”
“Embarrassed, but better. I don’t understand why the whiskey affected me that badly. I didn’t drink that much though I did drink it straight up.”
“You’re one month off losing your father in the middle of hell,” he says. “Emotions beat at the body. That’s why you slept for hours, too, I’m sure.”
I blink. “Wait. I slept for hours? What time is it?”
He glances at his watch, and for a moment my eyes linger on the black and silver wrapping his wrist, an expensive Omega De Ville. I know this because, in an ironic twist, it’s York’s watch of choice, but on Jax, it’s classic. On York, it just felt like a scream for attention. Because they don’t just wear their watches differently, they wear their money differently.
“Ten,” he informs me, his free hand settling on my knee.
My gaze jerks to his. “Five hours? You brought me to your hotel and I slept for five hours and then threw up. Well, I guess I really know how to take care of the ‘just sex’ side of things, don’t I?”
“Good thing this isn’t just sex, now isn’t it?” he challenges. “Are you able to get up?” He offers me his hand.
“Yes,” I say, settling my palm on his palm, and letting him stand and take me with him, “but I need to brush my teeth before I get anywhere near you.” I try to step away from him and sway.
Jax catches my waist. “Where’s your toothbrush? I’ll grab it for you.”
“Pink bag in my suitcase. Thank you.”
He kisses my temple and sets me on the edge of the tub before he walks away, leaving me touching that spot where his mouth was just touching, contemplating the tenderness of that act. That wasn’t about sex. That was about affection. The man just held my hair when I threw up. He held me when I was sick and he didn’t make me feel bad about any of it. I’m affected by this realization. I’m affected by this man, but I’m also seeing Jax as a man dedicated to his family and if mine hurt his, I’m worried about my brother.
“This pink bag?” Jax asks, appearing in the doorway.
Oh good gosh, now I have the man digging for pink bags for me. He’s the CEO of a worldwide whiskey company, and now my hair-holding errand boy. “Yes.” I stand up, feeling steadier now, as I hurry forward to accept the bag. “Thank you, Jax. Sorry for all of this.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, baby.”
“Baby?”
“Sweetheart?”
I laugh despite being embarrassed beyond belief right about now. “Oh God. I’m remembering that conversation. Remind me not to drink again. Ever.”
Now he laughs, too, and the man has this low rumble of laughter that vibrates through me. I feel it, and him, everywhere, all over, tingling like I’m naked and sexy right now, not a mess of a person who just threw up. I step to the sink and unzip my bag, pulling out my toothbrush.
