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“Why?” He soaps over my shoulders, kneading the muscles until my head falls back. “What’s wrong with your apartment? It told me more about you. And I got to chat with your dad.” He makes a considering sound. “It was a little weird that he didn’t ask why I was there.”
“He’s just…not that kind of dad,” I finish lamely.
“Explain.” Jonah’s voice is hard.
“He’s not a worrier.” I sigh. “He never has been. Most dads would have oiled the shotgun the very first time Eric was photographed with his arm around another woman.”
“Fucking Eric,” Jonah bites out.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “That’s just my dad. I love him, but living with him isn’t easy.”
“You’ll be a millionaire soon. You can move.” Jonah presses his fingers to the sides of my neck and strokes. I sigh at the delicious strength of his hands, at the way he’s caring for me.
“That’s not apartment money. My dad doesn’t have any retirement savings, and who knows what will happen to the paper?”
“You should be more selfish.” His voice has an edge to it, like he’s annoyed.
“You sound like my friends.”
“They sound intelligent,” he grumbles. “No sense of self-preservation. That’s you.”
“You can bother me tomorrow about it.” I yawn.
He lathers my hair with strong fingers. The shampoo smells like him. Citrus and eucalyptus. Manly, expensive. He scratches his nails over my scalp and I moan.
“I’m going to smell like you tomorrow.”
His lips brush over my pulse, his breaths steady in my ear. “I know. Is it fucked up that I like it?”
“Possessive,” I murmur.
“I told you, Thompson. I don’t share.”
“What does that mean?”
His arm tightens on my stomach. “All your pleasure is mine. No touching yourself, and definitely no touching others. No more dates.” He spits the word. “Understood?”
You’re mine. His words from the other day echo in my head. And instead of being alarmed, like I definitely should be, I smile and nod my head.
41
Callie
On Tuesday, Jonah tells me I’ll finally get a chance to spar with him.
“I’ve been waiting for this.” I grin at him and he raises a haughty brow.
“You think I’m going to go easy on you?” His voice is arrogant, as usual. Jonah might soften sometimes for me, but he is still so unabashedly himself. I love it. I loved the anger in his voice last night when he told me I needed to be more selfish. He’s selfish. And I think he would be selfish for me too, if I let him. His cold exterior is better than any nice guy.
I smile at him and his eyes widen before they narrow on me. The planes of his face are brutal in the overhead lights of the ring, but he’s handsome. So unbearably handsome. I want to trace his face with my fingers, not punch it.
I take a step forward to do just that, but he barks, “In the ring.”
I clamber in, under the ropes, and Jonah follows me. He drops his gloves on the ground and pulls off his sweatshirt.
“Not fair,” I breathe. My eyes roam his body. I may never get tired of looking at it. Golden skin, that vee of muscles leading in to his shorts.
“What’s wrong, Thompson? Distracting you?”
