The Carrero Effect Trilogy

Chapter 37A

At the hotel, he dumped me graciously in my room and ordered me to lie down. He then left me to stare at the quiet TV to 'recuperate.' There's now a tray of half-eaten food by my bed, and he has a doctor coming despite my protests.

He's being distant; as soon as I was settled, he pulled his cell out and stalked off, closing himself in his room. I know he's calling her, and despite his manner with her earlier, it still makes my heart constrict painfully. I hate the fact he's calling her. I don't know why, but from the moment I met her, I had this weird, gutsy clue that I didn't like her at all. Far more potently than any of his other bimbos, I can't explain it. Some female thing going off inside me makes me hate her more than the others.

On top of that, I hate that he's calling a woman; I cannot control my jealous pain, which sucks most of all.

***

He's back thirty minutes later as the doctor is coiling up her stethoscope after examining me.

"What's the verdict?" He sounds concerned, well, maybe. Bossy mainly.

"She's fine, Mr. Carrero. A little rest and she'll make a full recovery," the doctor answers, beaming at him confidently. Her lithe figure is enveloped in a fitted gray suit, and she has a lovely face. I like this doctor; she has gentle hands and a straightforward manner that relaxes me under her care. She also seems immune to Jake's charms. I'm glad because she's hot for a doctor and definitely someone I could see him bedding.

"Why did she pass out then?" He doesn't seem convinced and doesn't notice how attractive she is either, his eyes on me frowning. None of his schmoozing charm is evident.

"Miss Anderson informed me she'd skipped meals and was overheated; I'm guessing she wasn't drinking enough fluids and became a little overwhelmed. We need to take care of our bodies. She needs to acclimatize to Vegas weather, I think." She throws me a broad smile, and I return it.

How could you not? She's lovely.

He's frowning with his arms crossed, scrutinizing me closely. He doesn't look convinced, and I know he's inwardly cursing me about how many times he's told me I need to drink more water too. The man should have shares in Evian, with the amount he goes through daily.

"She's going to get enough rest; she's hotel-bound until tomorrow when we fly home," he points out rudely. The doctor smiles and nods. She approves.

What? This is news! Since when?

We're due to stay here for a week. I keep quiet as he shows the doctor out, then slide out of bed and march through to the living room purposefully to find him, to confront him.

"What do you mean we're flying home?" I accuse angrily as soon as she departs.

"Tomorrow morning. It's already arranged." He has an air of irritation, his green eyes simmering with a warning, but I ignore it. "Why? Because I fainted? We have stuff to do here, Jake," I fume at him in sheer agitation, throwing my hands around and gesturing like mad.

"Yes. No, partly because of that and because of shit I need to deal with, okay?" I pale as I take in his agitated tone and manner. He doesn't need to spell it out; I know him well enough to know 'shit' means Marissa!

"You're going to blow off this week's schedules?" I snap with a deadpan expression, hating that he dumps work for a fucking woman! This is not how he usually operates; this is a crappy way to run an empire, if you ask me.

"Sometimes life does get in the way of work, Emma," he says sarcastically, glaring at me and cementing my suspicions.

Actually, now that I think about it, this is precisely what he does. He takes off for personal time or vacations or blows off work for a week to go off and sulk. Abandoning everything!

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snap at him furiously.

Why am I so goddamn angry with him? I should be ecstatic. I hate Vegas, and I want to go home. I should be dancing my joyful dance at getting out of this place early. But I'm just pissed!

"It means what it means." He stalks away, only making me angrier and igniting my temper.

Oh, so we're fighting again? What happened to the happy-go-lucky PA and hot boss? When we used to flirt more than we fought?

I liked them. I wish they would come back and replace the constant arguments and anger between us lately, the continuous sizzling tension, and instant flare-ups of bad moods and hurt feelings.

What the hell happened to us?

"You think I'm all about my work, and I don't, what … let life ever interfere?" I snap accusingly.

"Take from it whatever you will," he says, being cryptic as usual. He's pouring himself a drink, a strong one. For no reason whatsoever, this action makes me more furious with him, his chilling and kicking back with booze whenever things get serious.

Screw him.

"I know how to have a life. I choose to work more than I fuck about with sex and parties." I know that isn't fair; he works harder than he plays, more than most in his business. I've seen it; that's why I'm always by his side and flying across continents. I'm being a bitch for the sake of being a bitch.

"Do you, Emma? I'm pretty sure that stick up your ass is well and truly lodged," he growls at me, and I blanche.

What the hell? Why is this 'attack Emma time' suddenly, and how did we get so goddamn mad at one another over nothing?

We're literally yelling at each other, tension crackling in the air as the atmosphere thickens. This constant, goddamn, weird, uptight pressure is always around us now.

"What the actual fuck? You chose me as your PA because of how I work. Now what? You're saying I'm too what … anal? You want a party buddy instead?" I yell at him, my body tense as I wave my hands around in frustration, matching steel glares on our faces.

"I want a fucking normal assistant! One who doesn't fucking make me feel like I want to beat the shit out of her one minute and screw her the next! This sexual tension between us, all the fucking time, is absolutely killing me!" he spits cruelly, looking me dead in the eye angrily, and it completely floors me.

Wow.

I'm frozen.

I mean what? That's what this is?

I gawk at him, wide-eyed and speechless, mouth slightly open with surprise as his words sink in.

"Fuck this shit!" he snaps and throws his glass at the sink rather dramatically. It smashes across the tiles sending shards everywhere, making me jump; his hostility reverberates around the room, and silence hits hard. Without another word, he stalks toward me, looking dark and crazy, sending a shiver of fear down my spine, immobilizing me for a second before sense has me backing up until I bump into a hard surface.

I've no clue what he's doing.

Jake comes right at me as I attempt to flee sideways; he pushes me hard against the wall behind me and crushes his mouth to mine like our lives depend on it. His lips ram against mine with such force it takes my breath away, and I'm too stunned to stop him. My brain is still in the middle of the room, floundering at his statement, and hasn't yet caught up.

I take a minute to pull in my breath. I respond in a way that shocks me to the core, some primal inner me taking advantage of the few seconds of shock. I latch onto his kiss purposefully, opening my lips to have his tongue and mine entwining. A groan comes from deep inside me, hot and wanton. Nothing about this is right, but I can't stop it; I've never known this surge coursing through my body, consuming me. I wrap myself around him, his hands in my hair and mine around his neck. He's kissing me with passion and pent-up frustration from weeks of weird vibes between us, making love to me with his mouth while his hands run over me and pin me to him forcefully, our bodies pulsing in unison.

This sudden overpowering need to have every inch of him joined with mine overtakes all sense and reason. A release from anger, fighting, and heartbreak bursts over me like a dam overflowing. The urge to let him devour me and take all the tension away overwhelms me. He lifts me against the wall and pulls me hard into him, my legs moving automatically around his waist, my skirt riding up, exposing my thighs.

His strength only pushes me further into this feeling of raging desire. I want this. I need this. I stop that little inner voice of fear and panic trying to wheedle in, and I push her down harshly with an icy shove.

No! You won't stop it this time.

After everything that's happened, everything I've felt these past few weeks in his absence, and feeling like we let a gulf open between us, I don't care about the consequences anymore. I want to lose myself in everything that's him and let my control, for once, subside. I need him.

He pulls me off the wall, and we're on the floor instantly, mouths still deliciously molded together, the carpet soft under my back as he cushions the transition. His attention awakens that deepest desire in me while the weight of his body on mine is sexy and turns me on so crazily.

He's on top of me, and we're pulling at each other's clothes without thought, every hard line of his body pushed against mine, grinding into me. He wants me as much as I want him, his erection crushing into my damp panties. His mouth knows no limits, and he's kissing me with all the expertise of a seasoned pro; he could make me tip over the edge with his kiss alone, and he seems to know it.

Why have I never wanted to be kissed like this? This is every fantasy come true.

There is nothing terrifying or repulsive about this; it's drawing me in, opening me up, and making my head go blank with desire. I suck on his lip the way he has on mine before, extracting a moan from him that pushes my fire higher. His hands slide over my body, exploring and ravaging me, feeling my breasts, waist, and thighs as he maneuvers me exactly how he wants me. I'm breathless and burning up with a feverish need. I've never felt this way or wanted it more.

There's a rip across my chest as he yanks my blouse open, tearing it like paper. I'm surprised, but I've never been so horny over something this primal; I grasp his buttons instinctively. I try to get them open, but I'm not as smooth as he is with his Hulk-like clothes-ripping ability, and I'm fumbling. He's all over me, caressing my curves and pulling me into him at new angles as he continues his possession of my body. His mouth runs over every inch of skin he can find while exposing more. We're frantic, panting, and lost in an intense heat leading to an explosion. I'm lost under his attentive hands, imploding inside with desire, my body clenching in ways I never knew it could, my core pulsating and throbbing for fulfillment.

It will happen this time, and I'm not going to stop it; neither is he. He's intent on tasting every piece of me, licking and sucking, then returning to my mouth to capture me again, pushing my surrender to him.

This is what it feels like to be Jake's focus and desire, and it's incredible.

He rips my skirt open, giving no shit about it.

Jesus, does he have to do that?

I'm sure it unbuttons easily, but it's making me crazy for him. It used to be my favorite skirt, I reflect fleetingly.

Who am I kidding? It's a turn-on, searing hot. It's crazy, erotic, and primal, and I love that he's literally tearing my clothes off with impatience to get at me.