by Tina Martin
And then there was all this talk about Royal being in love with her. Gianna had tried convincing her that Royal loved her and now, Carson had reiterated those same sentiments. It all confused Gemma because since they were assuming it, now her mind wanted to believe that Royal was falling in love with her. But, what if they were wrong?
They probably were. Royal liked to flirt. He was a ladies man. He had started out being all touchy-feely with her. Even when she was lying in the hospital bed after her surgery, she’d wake up to him holding her, massaging her fingers or gently brushing the side of his face against hers to gauge her body temperature. That was normal for him, but everyone was interpreting it for more than what it was. They had to have been because if he was all that worried about her – and that much into her – why was he hightailing it to Paris?
She held her temples, then said, “Ugh, get out of my head.”
She stood up from the barstool and filled a glass with tap water. While she sipped, she looked at the box that Carson had placed on the counter. She frowned. What the heck is that?
She set the glass by the sink, then ripped off some of the packing tape from the box and after some tugging, she finally got it open, removing a round, yellow pillow. A sad-face, emoji pillow. If she wasn’t irritated and pissed at Royal at the moment, she would’ve found it hilarious. But since Royal was leaving in a few days, she wasn’t so much in a playful mood. She had to do something to get her mind off of him – hard to do since he was all she could think about. And now this pillow…
Do something, Gemma. Do something to get your mind off of him. She thought about taking a nap, but he’d probably pop up in her dreams somewhere – that’s if she could get to sleep. She sighed, looked at her phone and decided to call Gianna.
“The Boardwalk Bakery. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Gianna, baby,” Gemma said, trying to imitate Ramsey’s deep voice. “I want some cupcakes.”
Gianna laughed. “Why are you calling me on the business phone, Gem? You used to call me on my cell phone.”
“Okay, Drake,” Gemma quipped.
“Huh?” Gianna asked, not catching the Drake reference.
“Ugh…whatever. Anyway, what’s up? What’cha doing?”
“I’m super busy today…finally getting around to baking cupcakes for St. Claire Architects. Judy will be here any minute to pick them up.”
“Who’s Judy?”
“Ramsey’s executive assistant.”
“Oh.”
“What are you doing? Are you studying for your driver’s test?”
“Nope. I’m too tired to be looking at this complicated book. It’s too much. Left signal. Right signal. Yield. U-turns. Ugh. It never ends. And why do you have to stop for school buses?”
“So you don’t mow down people’s kids. That’s why you have to stop, silly.” Gianna laughed. “Look, you can’t be out here breaking the rules of the road. Your lil’ butt gon’ be sitting behind bars.”
“I feel like I’m already behind bars. I can’t go anywhere. I have to wait for people to come and see me.”
“People like who? Royal?”
“Don’t even get started on Royal. He’s all everybody wants to talk about. Royal, Royal, Royal, Royal, Royal—”
“Gemma?”
“Royal, Royal, Royal, Royal, Royal.”
“Gemma Jacobsen?” Gianna said trying to get her attention again.
“What?”
“Okay. I won’t talk about Royal, but when you say you have to wait for people to come and see you, who are you referring to?”
Royal. She wasn’t about to admit that, though, so she said, “I just want to be able to go when I want to go. Right now, I’m stuck.”
“Okay, Gem…first, you have to take your health into consideration. I know you’re feeling better and all but you had a major surgery, baby girl. You don’t need to be running all around town. And that reminds me—you have the appointment tomorrow. Is Royal still taking you because—?”
“No. I want you to take me.”
“You cut me off before I could finish. I’ve already made commitments for tomorrow since you said Royal was taking you to the doctor. I have four catering orders and—”
“Okay. Okay. Fine.”
“Why don’t you want him to take you?” Gianna inquired.
“I just don’t—I…nevermind. Get back to work. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”
“Yep. Bye.” As she hung up the phone, Royal was calling. Gemma just stared at the display and said, “Nope. I’m not going to do it,” she said. After the intense conversation they had on the phone last night, she didn’t want to talk to him just yet. She was still irritated. During the last ring, she mumbled, “Just go to Paris and leave me alone…you and your stupid emoji pillow.”
Carson walked by when she made the statement and said, “Young love.”
Gemma rolled her eyes, then got up off of the stool and snatched the driver’s handbook off of the counter. She went upstairs, to her room and closed the door. She yawned as she tossed the book onto her nightstand and fell across the bed, long overdue for an afternoon nap.
Chapter 15
“Not eating in the dining room with Ramsey and Gianna today I see,” Carson said.
“Oh, don’t start with me, Carson.”
“Just making an observation,” Carson said after noticing she’d been in her room for the entire afternoon and didn’t bother coming out, even when she knew Gianna was home.
“Yeah, I figured I’d eat in the kitchen to give Gianna and Ramsey time to talk about their married-life stuff without third-wheel-Gemma awkwardly rolling around.” She propped her head up on her hands.
“I’m sure they don’t see it that way,” Carson said preparing a plate for her.
She didn’t care if they did or didn’t. She wasn’t in the mood to be around the mushy love that always accumulated in the air whenever Gianna and Ramsey were within a few feet of each other. Not this evening.
“Here you go, madam,” Carson said sitting the plate down in front of her. “Beef tips over rice with steamed broccoli and a yeast roll.”
“It smells good, Carson. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Eat up,” Carson said, and then he quickly left the kitchen, hurrying to the front door since the bell had chimed, its orchestra-like tone filling the house as thoroughly as the food aroma had.
Gemma got up, walked over to the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice. She filled a glass with ice. Then she sat down again and poured herself a full glass of juice. After taking a long sip, she tasted the beef tips but soon lowered her fork. She could’ve sworn she heard Royal’s voice coming from the dining room, but then again, he and his brothers sounded alike. Maybe it was her mind wishing it was him while at the same time dreading seeing him. How twisty was that? To wish to see someone, yet not actually want to see them?
“There’s my girl,” Royal said with confidence as he stepped into the kitchen.
Gemma glanced over to the sound of his voice. Dang. It was him! Had she known he was coming over, she would’ve taken her dinner to go – and by to go, she meant locked inside of her bedroom. Instead, she had her tall, bearded, wildly exotic friend walking toward her, dressed in a pair of blue, ribbed-panel, distressed fabric jeans that fit his laid-back, off-work swag perfectly and a white T-shirt. He wore a Carolina blue baseball cap turned to the back that made him look more like his age although the beard offset it with a more mature look.
She hoped he wasn’t coming directly for her – like for a hug or some other display of affection that he took it upon himself to take from her. Maybe he’d just sit down. And stare. Crap. She didn’t want that either. That would be much worse. She couldn’t handle much more of his staring or nothing else, especially tonight. Why did you have to come here tonight?
Sure enough, in true Royal fashion, he walked right up to her and leaned down to place a kiss at her
temple, but Gemma ducked away from his lips. This time.
He frowned but quickly shook it off since he already knew she was upset. Dealing with a woman and her feelings would take some getting used to. He certainly wasn’t comfortable with her mood swings to something he considered to be minor. But what was minor to him could’ve been something major for her. Was she really upset about him going to Paris, or was it something else? And why did she have to look so pretty when she was mad with her cute, little pouty lips and flushed, freckled cheeks?
“So, you’re still mad at me, huh?”
“I’m just trying to enjoy my dinner,” she said curtly.
Royal stepped behind her, authoritatively inspecting her plate.
She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence looming over her. And she smelled his cologne – that all too familiar scent that before she hadn’t paid much attention to. Now, it had her high. Floating. Remembering…
Remembering all the times she’d laid against his chest – a chest so broad, it needed its own zip code. She recalled all the time they spent together. Laughing. Enjoying each other’s company. She was starting to feel for him more than what she wanted to feel. More than he probably wanted her to feel. There was nothing more confusing, more mind-boggling, more agonizing than trying to determine whether or not you were worthy of someone else’s love, especially when that someone was only supposed to be a friend.
Deciding that the food was okay for her to eat, Royal picked up her glass of orange juice and the carton, then walked toward the sink. He dumped out the glass of juice first, then he poured the entire contents of the carton down the drain.
“What are you doing?” Gemma asked heatedly.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he refilled her glass with ice and water. He walked back to the island, set the glass next to her plate and took the barstool next to her. Not across from her, but next to her, sitting in a way that afforded him a good side view of her face while his knees touched her left thigh. “There. That’s better.”
Gemma looked at him, narrowed her eyes and grew even more irate when he met her obvious irritation with a closed mouth smile. “Why’d you do that?” she asked.
“I told you I didn’t want you drinking orange juice.”
“Okay. You’re not my doctor or my daddy.”
“Nor do I claim to be. And since you’re already mad at me, what do I care if you get mad over some orange juice?”
She held his stern gaze for a few moments before she turned away from him, determined not to let him get under her skin but it was a little too late for that. She stirred around rice in her plate, feeling legitimately confused right now. Why was he here tonight, anyway? He was already coming by tomorrow to take her to the doctor, so what made him show up early? And why was he just sitting there staring at her, his eyes boring into the side of her face? He wasn’t saying a word. Just staring.
Gianna took a fork full of rice and a little meat to her mouth.
Royal watched her chew then stole a piece of broccoli off of her plate and tossed it into his mouth.
“Why are you so mad at me, Gemma?” he asked, chewing.
With a closed mouth, she released a long breath through her nose. Steaming. “You did just pour out my drink.”
“Don’t give me that. This has nothing to do with orange juice. You were already mad at me and quite honestly, I should be the one who’s upset,” Royal said. “After all, you did hang up on me last night after I specifically asked you not to.”
“I didn’t hang up on you,” she snapped.
“You did,” he said evenly, his temper more controlled than hers.
“You said goodnight to me, did you not?” she asked him. “I said goodnight back to you and that was the end of that.”
“You hung up on me,” he said, raising his tone.
“So what?” she said, matching his tone. “I didn’t want to talk to you anymore and quite honestly, I don’t want to talk to you now.”
“So what?” he said back.
“Sooo, leave me alone,” Gemma told him.
“Umm…I think not,” Royal said. He took another piece of broccoli from her plate and tossed it into his mouth. “Why are you mad at me, Gemma?”
Gemma chewed slowly, still annoyed – her appetite fading away with the constant stares of Royal.
“Is it the Paris thing? Is that it?”
She glanced over at him again, her heart fluttering just off of his good looks alone. She hadn’t seen him at all yesterday and apparently, he hadn’t shaved. His beard was growing in thick and she loved the look of it – made her fingers ache to feel it. Today, however, she wanted to choke him rather than play with his facial hair.
He raised two dark brows. “Is that it?” he asked since she still hadn’t answered his question.
Gemma dropped her fork on her plate and took a sip of water. She’d rather have orange juice, but…
“Okay, since the cat got your tongue, I’ll just make assumptions.,” Royal said. “What would make you think I wouldn’t come by and say goodbye to you before I left for Paris, Gemma? You act like I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I don’t care when you’re leaving. Just leave me alone, Royal.”
“I’ll leave you alone when I’m ready to leave you alone.”
Her glare was as sharp as broken glass when she looked at him and said, “Yeah, because that’s your thing, right? Entertain me until you get bored, then it’s on to the next woman to keep you on your toes because you’re done with the sick girl.”
To Royal, her unwarranted words actually stung like a bullet to his heart. Suddenly the man who never let words bother him knew what it felt like for words to actually stab him deep within his soul. And they hurt because they came from her.
“And you know what else, Royal?” she asked, pushing her plate away. “I don’t need you checking up on me. I don’t need you telling me what to eat or drink. I don’t need you, period, so leave me alone.”
Royal frowned. “You’re talking to me this way?”
Gemma stood up. “I don’t see nobody else in here.” She walked away from the table, heading out of the kitchen.
“Everything alright in there?” Ramsey asked from the dining room.
Their voices must’ve carried there. Royal hadn’t realized how out of control the conversation-turned-argument with Gemma had gotten. In the heat of the moment, things had gotten out of control. “Everything’s fine, Ram,” he said, hot on Gemma’s trail.
She was halfway up the stairs when he began jogging to catch up to her. He grabbed the doorknob to her bedroom at the same time she had. With his body cradling hers and his hand on top of hers, they opened the door together as if it was a two-person job. He wrapped his arms around her wiggly body from behind and lifted her up just high enough so her feet weren’t touching the floor, stepping into the room, then closing the door behind them.
“Put me down right now,” she demanded.
He lowered her to her feet and caged her right there up against the door. “This is how you talk to me, now?” he asked. He was so much taller than her, he only saw the top of her scarf when he looked down at her. “Look at me,” he told her.
“Move, Royal.”
“Look…at…me,” he requested more firmly.
She did as he asked, tilting her head upward to meet his dark gaze.
Still frowning, he asked, “This is how you talk to me now?” searching her eyes for answers. And when he felt her hands push against his torso, he secured her wrists and extended her arms above her head. He was upset but still, he had enough compassion and self-control not to hurt her.
“Stop,” she said, staring deep into his dark eyes, completely at his mercy.
“This is how you talk to me now? After everything we’ve been through?” he asked, his chest rising and falling in and out in rapid succession.
“Let go of me, Royal,” she told him. With his body pinned to hers, she could barely move despite her efforts to wi
ggle out of his hold.
“No,” he said, trying to connect his eyes to hers again, but she’d turned away from his intense, angry gaze. “Look at me,” he said.
With misty eyes, she connected her gaze to his again, but where was Royal? This guy, the one who was breathing heavily and looking at her with fire in his eyes certainly couldn’t have been her friend Royal. This guy looked like he could devour her. “Royal, let go of me,” she said nervously.
He leaned down, so close to her face that their noses Eskimo kissed. He released her arms, then used his hands to cradle that beautiful face of hers like he was holding something delicate. He was holding something delicate. That’s how much she meant to him.
Using his right thumb, he traced her lips and kept his gaze locked on her eyes as if this was his first time ever seeing her. He felt her lips quiver beneath the pad of his thumb and saw the confusion on her face as he touched her this way. Confused because she thought they were just friends. She couldn’t see that he wanted more, but she would see and feel it now.
He pried her mouth open using that same exploratory thumb when he said, “I will never let you go, Gemma.” Then he slipped his tongue inside of her mouth, feeling her body lock up as he did so. He couldn’t wait any longer. His taste buds had been watering for the taste of her for the longest, so he took the plunge deep inside of her mouth. He wanted to kiss her so badly, the kiss turned into a feast by the way he was going in, pulling her tongue into his mouth and savoring it greedily with long, powerful strokes – letting her feel the full power of what a man’s tongue was capable of. He licked and stroked every part of her mouth that his tongue could reach, determined to kiss her into oblivion.
He knew he was on the right path when he felt her cave in and loosen up to his aggression. Her arms closed around him easily as she pulled him in closer – so close that he could feel the tremors running through her body at the intensity of the kiss. Relentlessly, he rolled his tongue inside of her mouth, alternating with gentle biting on her baby-soft lips. And he pushed his body closer to hers while his hands stroked her waist, causing her body to jerk even more. And then those hands traveled to that apple bottom he loved, squeezing, while his tongue stayed lost in her mouth. Rolling and tasting.
