Chasing Rainbows

                “We are not sharing a room!” Emma announced once she heard her parents on the stairs.

Jacob laughed, “no, we’re sharing a bed.”

She shook her head vehemently, “this is not happening.” Her hand was still in his, and she snatched it free. “No way!”

With a sigh he leaned back in his chair, “what are you scared of? As two adults we can lie in the same bed, we can be grown up about this. I’m not going anywhere, you have to see that.”

Emma felt tears well behind her eyes, she didn’t want to cry in front of him, but she was so tired, so fed up with this pretence, with the subterfuge and the lies. She hated even thinking about Las Vegas, and she wished she’d never gone there that weekend.

                “Why are you trying to make this work? Flogging a more than dead horse. Can’t we just wait a year and get our divorce, then get on with our lives.”

He shook his head silently.

                “Jacob, we argue ALL the time, we can’t be in the same place without arguing.”

Shaking his head again he reached for his wine and took a drink, “that’s not true. At my home...Andy, that phone message. He’s my friend, he thinks we should end this as soon as possible, and I don’t know why, but I can’t go along with that. We’ve been dealt this hand through our own recklessness maybe, but I really want to go with it. Things happen for a reason.”

                “So we’ve got to tolerate a marriage because YOU believe in fate?”

He looked at her for a moment, all anger and passion and his body surged in pretty much the way it did every time he looked at her. Even that first time back in the shopping mall. Why did he want this? Did he believe in fate? He didn’t truly know the answer to either, the only thing he truly knew was that she excited him ALL the time, and that he wanted her in his life. A voice of question did try to break his thoughts, but he refused to listen, the fact that no one ever believed a beautiful woman would marry him was nothing to do with this, this wasn’t him proving a point. It wasn’t.

                “So why are you here?” She asked pulling him from his reverie. “I mean you turn up here in a suit, a flash car...””

                “So I want to impress my in-laws? Call me a fool if it helps. I’m here, now, because you are my wife, and I hate that we fell out. I wanted to apologise for throwing that magazine photo at you. I know nothing happened with Theo Samuel, and to retaliate like that when you were so obviously angry...well it was childish.”

She looked at him suspiciously, and he laughed, “Emma, I know you don’t trust me, and I can understand that, but I came here to tell you I was sorry, there’s no other agenda. I promise.”

She stood and turned away from him for a moment and it was only then that he realised she was crying.

Jumping up too, he tugged her, pulling her into his arms and she hid her face against his shoulder. He stroked her hair for a moment, wondering if he’d ever truly understand women, and more importantly THIS woman.

Wiping her eyes Emma pulled away, keeping her head bowed, not wanting him to see her upset. Her whole life had become traumatic and she hated showing him how much it all affected her. Taking a deep breath she swiped at the tears, then made for the house, but soon realised he was following her.

                “I’m here for two weeks Emma, and I want to stay with you.”

                “You offered me twenty four hours in San Francisco and I made my choice, I’m home here, without you.”

He laughed dryly, “you ran away, tail between your legs after an amazing twenty four hours...all because of a phone call. I’m here to show you there’s more to me than you imagine. And I’m willing to put in as much effort as is necessary.”

She had no answer to that, not one that didn’t involve kicking and screaming, so she just shrugged and walked into the house.

Upstairs she shut herself in the bathroom and took longer than was needed to clean her teeth, brush her hair and clean her face, she was hiding again, but it was her only form of defence. She had nothing to wear and was searching through drawers when Jacob joined her.

                “Have a t-shirt, I realise you weren’t expecting to stay. Can’t run to underwear I’m afraid!”

With that he tossed a grey t-shirt towards her, then left the room ignoring her scowl. She had a few seconds to act, either sleep in the garment or sleep in her clothes, and to think of the bigger picture her parents would be suspicious if she looked like she’d slept in her jeans and shirt. So she divested of the clothes, then pulled on the t-shirt, which the dressing table mirror informed her was emblazoned with ‘Play that Funky Music White Boy’. Classy!

Shaking her head she turned off the light, then dived under the duvet on the far side of the bed, resting as close to the edge as possible facing away from the side he’d occupy, just as the door opened. She could hear Jacob pad across the room, his feet quiet on the deep pile carpet, then felt the mattress dent as he sat down. If she could move further away from him she would have, especially as despite facing away from him, she felt him recline on to the pillows beside him, and hated it when he chuckled under his breath. Her attempts at feigning sleep had been as transparent as every other defence she had to him.

Then he started to snore!

Emma shook her head, typical! She was lying awake, a million problems and scenarios whistling around her head, and he was asleep. Already. With a huff, she punched the pillow and tried to focus on anything other than the man next to her, whose body heat she could already feel emanating through the gap between there.

She must have fallen asleep, as she woke in a warm and comfortable place, she felt secure, safe, and lips rested against her forehead. She wasn’t fully awake, that was her excuse as she leaned back, craning her neck so that her lips met his. Explosions erupted behind her closed eyes, as those lips familiarised themselves with her, the odd scratch of stubble to her sensitive skin was causing involuntary shudders down her spine. As she seemed to wake up a little more, she was aware of his body, pressed against the length if hers, when had their legs become entwined? When had she rolled to lie on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around her? And now that they were together, how the hell could she pull her lips from his now?

Every resistance that rose in her brain was beaten down by the physical effects his touch, his kiss; his body was having over her. Her breasts pushed up into his hands, her legs pulled him closer, all the time her lips meeting every challenge, her tongue every invasion.

When his mouth dropped to nibble her ear, to gently bite at her throat, she thought she’d explode all over again. He knew exactly what she liked, what she needed, and he aroused her beyond belief, and she was as pliable as putty when he finally thrust into her with a hunger that matched hers. She bit down on his shoulders, not wanting to scream in her parents’ house, and despite him describing how she moaned, now, this moment, it was a wail that threatened to pass her lips.

He was slumped over her, breathless and beyond control. He’d lied early when he’d talked cockily about how well he knew her, he was wrong, and the last few moments had proved that he’d not predicted his own reaction to her. Nor hers to him. She’d bitten him...hard! And that told him Emma was as wild as he was. He couldn’t describe what spread between them, he’d never needed anyone like he needed her, and he’d never had the interest to fight for anyone like this before. Her defence, her distance was a shield, and instead of walking away - the Jacob Coren way, he was determined to defeat her, make her realise that she couldn’t hide behind anything.

Rolling to his side, he took her with him, kissing her forehead, lifting the stray tendrils of hair that wafted over her face clear so that he could see her, eyes just visible in the darkness of the room.

                “Amazing!” He breathed, “and you wonder why I won’t let you go?”

She shook her head, not wanting his words to spoil the moment, she wanted to rest, head on his chest, hearing his racing heart, not listen to words that made her feel like a cheap sex toy.

So instead she placed a finger over his lips and sighed when he kissed it, pulling it into his mouth, running his tongue over the tip. Pleasure, and no thinking. That was the way to deal with this.

Emma opened her eyes, a chink of light coming through the window resting on her face the culprit for disturbing her. She was pressed up against Jacob, his arms holding her tight, hands possessively spread over her.

Her mouth was dry and her head hurt, not that she’d had that much to drink the previous evening, this was definitely a lack of sleep headache. She blushed as she tried to recount the amount of times Jacob had teased her, touched her, tasted her, and gave up. All she knew was that it had been an amazing night, and now lying beside him, she wished things were different, that she didn’t have to plaster a smile on her face and pretend that she was a happy newlywed.

Sliding out of his arms, she located her knickers - tossed into the middle of the room, and the t-shirt he’d loaned her, then made for the door. She needed a drink and a couple of pills, then she’d feel fine.

The clock in the kitchen told her it was only seven am, her parents’ were early risers but were nowhere to be seen. She filled a large glass with orange juice and was rummaging around looking for paracetamol when her mother burst in to the kitchen.

                “We’re going to the supermarket...your father wants to impress Jacob with a South coast BBQ, I’ve TOLD him that he’ll be an expert, but you know how he is when he gets something in his head! Is Jacob still asleep?”

Emma nodded uncomfortable in where this conversation had taken them, “he is.”

Her mother winked, “we’ll be a while...give you time to yourselves!” Then with a very girly wave, she disappeared.

Popping two of the pills into her mouth, she washed them down with the OJ, but was still unable to fight the groan that spewed from her lips, this was getting more complicated by the minute. She thought of the man upstairs, and how tired he must be. She’d planned to disappear back to London asap, with or without him, now her parents wanted to show off to him. She had no option but to stay. Taking another glass, she filled it with ice cold water, then returned to the bedroom.

She didn’t want to rejoin him in bed, but Emma was suddenly tired, so she moved around the bed to place the water beside him, then returned before almost falling on to the mattress.

                “Miss me?” Two arms grabbed her and pulled her close, and for a moment it felt perfect...then she felt as though she was drowning, suffocating. Pushing against Jacob’s chest, she freed herself from his arms.

                “I got you a drink,” she muttered, then turned away from him.

But no shoulder was cold enough to reduce Jacob’s ardour and his warm, hard body curled up behind her, “so I see, but I’m only thirsty for you!”

Her sarcastic groan sounded suspiciously like a moan even to her own ears, “my folks are planning a celebratory barbeque lunch, let me assure you we BOTH need all the sleep we can get.”

He chuckled against her neck, his hands sliding around her to cup her breasts, “perfect,” he breathed referencing his comments of the previous evening, then he nibbled her ear lobe, “I know the perfect way to encourage sleep!”

Why can’t I resist him? Was her final coherent thought until they both woke well after ten to the sound of a growing party downstairs.