Chapter 83

I’ve never actually been the focus of this version of angry Jake, not like this, not with this kind of rage. I feel sick, unbearably emotional, and I reel it back in, taking deep, heavy breaths, trying to still my hands, and not letting him get to me while my stomach ties itself in knots.

He returns to the car and slides in stiffly, making me jumpy and nervous. He’s not looking at me and doesn’t put his belt back on. I don’t know what to say. Angry, aggressive men as big as Jake are my worst nightmare.

Why is he reacting this way?

I’ve no clue what happens in his head sometimes, and I watch him warily, every nerve ending in my body on high alert.

“It’s not about sex, Emma.” He’s quiet and reflective, and his hands move back to the wheel, but he doesn’t start the car. “It’s about this eternal need in you to stay in full control, never letting anyone in, never letting yourself enjoy anything, and never letting your guard down. Always keeping me at arm’s length.