Chapter 167

Jake stills over me, bracing himself on his arms, biceps straining impressively. His naked skin has a
soft sheen of moisture and is glistening at me from inches above my own nakedness. I’m heated,
tingling and tired and yet outraged he has stopped.

“What’s wrong, bambino?” His intense gaze dissecting my face, his breathing rapid. I wriggle
impatiently, unimpressed with his sudden halt.

“Nothing …What are you doing?” I stay nestled in the pillows watching him in confusion. My heart rate
still elevated and my breathing shallow.

“Baby, we have been having sex for the best part of a half hour and I haven’t made you cum once …
That’s unheard of for you … I’m starting to feel a little more than inadequate.” He pulls off me,
indicating he’s not going to continue.

“Jake, don’t stop … It still feels better than good.” I pout, trying to pull him down against me but he only
resists.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” He persists, his face serious.

“Nothing’s wrong.” It’s not exactly a lie, I have been more than enjoying what he was doing but my
head has been all over the place making it impossible to succumb to the growing waves of orgasm
every time they started.

“Are you still dizzy? From yesterday?” The concern etched on his face tugs at my heart, guilt rising
inside of me.

“No. I told you when we woke up, I’m fine today.” I bite my lip anxiously; I know he’s not going to let this
go. As sex crazed as Jake seems to be, he always seems honed into how I’m responding and feeling.
He’s an attentive lover.



“Is this about Marissa?” He leans down so he’s closer to me, his eyes locking fully on mine for any hint
of hesitation.

“No … Maybe.” I break. It’s true. All I’ve been thinking about is her and the baby since his mother
brought her up. The DNA test foremost in my head. A mass of confused thoughts eating away at my
brain and driving me insane.

“In general? Or more specifically?” Intuitive as always and straight to the point. I turn to look at the
bedside clock, uneasy at his intent gaze on my face. It’s after ten in the morning, most of the house will
probably be up now and I wonder if maybe we should go downstairs instead of this interrogation. He
catches my chin and pulls me back to face him.

“I can stay here all day, baby, and drag this out of you one letter at a time.” He threatens, and I know he
means it, no one has more stubbornness in them than him.

“I think you should have the DNA test done.” I blurt out then cringe, biting back on my lip in remorse.
His face tightens but he doesn’t fully react. I watch as his pale hue of green changes to a darker shade
with more brown flecks than normal and he narrows his eyes with a frown. It always mesmerized me
the way they could change depending on his mood. A typical green eye characteristic.

“You don’t think the baby is mine?” He questions flatly, face devoid of any expression, except a subtle
furrow. I can feel the ripple of tension, though, and my stomach lurches with the energy.

“I don’t know … What your mother said, Jake, the fact you say you don’t even remember sleeping with
her and I know you … No matter how drunk, you’ve never forgotten to use a condom.”

Didn’t I used to order your goddamn supply for you?

“You don’t think my lack of memory indicates just how drunk I was? That not using a condom in that
state is likely?” His voice has an edge to it but he’s still not giving much away.



“If you were that drunk then how did you even … You know.” I look away awkwardly, hating this
conversation, a deep pit in my stomach building up. My nerves tightening and nausea threatening to
take hold. Something prickling all the way up my skin and making me nervy.

“Get it up?” He replies sardonically and all I can do is nod mutely with a flush of shame and warming
cheeks.

“It’s never been an issue; even drunk enough to forget what I’ve been up to.” He points out and that
inner hope I have been starting to cling to, dies immediately. He rolls off me onto his back and stares
blankly up at the ceiling. “You really want me to do this?” He sounds almost exasperated. Maybe angry.

“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” I reply numbly, this shift in his position and mood throwing me. Ten
minutes ago, he was inside of me, breathing heavily in my ear as I groaned and writhed under his body,
mounting again to another wave of pleasure. Maybe I wouldn’t have cum, but I was certainly enjoying it
way more than this.

“You can’t just hit me with what’s wrong then say something like that.” He snaps. “Of course, I’ll take
the fucking test.” He gets up quickly and stalks off toward the en-suite. “I would do anything you asked
of me … Doesn’t mean I have to be fucking happy about it.” He slams the bathroom door as soon as
he’s inside and I well up instantly. A tremor of emotion running through me painfully. I didn’t want to
fight. I roll on my side and wrap my arms around myself, an effort to push away the threatening tears,
absolutely no clue what the issue with the test is.

Doesn’t he want to be sure? Why is he so against it? Why did he get so angry about it? I would want to
know if it was me. It’s not like he has reason to trust her, she’s proven that years ago.

He finally emerges wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, I can smell toothpaste and he looks like he’s
trimmed his stubble, his hair styled. I guess he’s no intention of coming back to bed.



He walks past the bed, hauling his running shoes from the bag on the floor that holds his gym clothes
and sits down on the edge of the bed to put them on. I say nothing, just watch him silently, hating the
atmosphere between us. He finally gets up, stretches out his arms over his head and flexes his large
shoulders, rotating them before throwing me a look.

“I’m going for a run … Stay here or go for breakfast … Don’t wait on me, I don’t know how long I’m
going to be.” There’s nothing in his tone, no anger yet no love and he doesn’t stoop to kiss me before
yanking the zip of his hoodie up and walking out. No backward glance or even a smile, he just stalks
out, emanating all kinds of anger and then he’s gone.

All the tension bubbling inside of me to epic proportions and I immediately burst into tears and bury my
face in the pillows of the bed to drown it out. Pulling them around me to blot out the world, I pull my
knees up to my stomach and let the full force of the pain run through me.

He’s no idea how he can make me feel, how little effort it really takes to hurt me. Especially about this,
he has no clue to the depth of insecurity it’s inflicted me with.

“Don’t cry, baby, please.” His sudden tone in my ear makes me jump as his arms come around me
tightly from behind. “I’m sorry, Emma … Please, bambino.” His tone is soft and gentle, his fingers
uncurling my grip in the cushions, so he can pull me into his body, encircling me with his face in my hair
by my cheek. “Shhhhhh, come on. Turn around.” He breathes, finally coaxing me to face him and
pulling me against his chest. “I’m sorry. Neonata. Stop. You’re making me feel even shittier than I do
already.” His fingers come down across my face, wiping away the dampness, his nose coming down to
mine so he can look at me. I’m nestled in his arms under him. I take a breath, stilling the onslaught,
sniffing back any more threatening to come. Confused as to why he’s back.

“I’ve stopped.” I sigh emotionally, sniffing again and suddenly embarrassed. “Why did you come back?”
I look up at him with wide eyes.



“I didn’t get far … This overwhelming guilt that after finally getting you to actually tell me how you’re
feeling, I just acted like a prize asshole and you would probably never open up again. You can’t help
that you feel that way, bambino. Being pissed at you for it is a sure-fire way to make sure you never
trust me to talk about it again. I can’t let that happen.” He regards me remorsefully, his brows lowered
in regret. “It’s a touchy subject … Do you forgive me?” He leans down as I nod and kisses me gently on
the mouth, soft and reassuring, his hand comes to curl in my hair. He breathes heavily and looks away
across the room over the top of me as though trying to find a focus. “I’m not mad about taking the tests,
Emma … I agree. It’s just Marissa can be a prize bitch normally and hitting her with this will set her off
again. She’s going to flip out and cause me all sorts of agro, miele. I can’t blame her though; it’s
doubting her honesty and probably going to look like I’m looking for a way out.” He sighs again. “From
day one she’s been accusing me of not being invested … This is just going to look like she’s
right.”


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