Then, smoothly, he pulls me across his lap beneath the blankets. A breath catches in my throat as I end up straddling him.
Jonah looks up at me, dark hair messy from my fingers, mouth already kiss-swollen, and the expression on his face almost undoes me completely.
“Is this okay?”
The fact that he asks while holding me like this nearly melts every remaining coherent thought in my brain.
“Yes.”
His mouth crashes back into mine before the word is fully out.
The kiss turns deeper immediately. Hotter. My good hand slides into his hair while Jonah’s grip tightens at my waist, like he’s trying to keep himself under control and failing a little more every second.
And then I feel him. Hard beneath me.
Jonah must notice my reaction because he goes still for half a second, a faint flush climbing his neck.
“Lila—”
I kiss him again before he can start apologizing for wanting me. Because that’s exactly what he’s about to do.
His hand slides up my back beneath my shirt instead, fingers warm against my skin, and I swear the man shudders when I press closer. His control is slipping. The kind of control that makes me think if Jonah ever really let go, it would ruin me in the best possible way.
I drag my mouth slowly along his jaw, feeling the sharp intake of breath he tries—and fails—to suppress.
“You’re blushing again, Professor,” I murmur against his skin.
Jonah lets out a shaky laugh, his forehead falling briefly against mine. I grin against his mouth before kissing him again. He’s trying very hard to stay in control and losing ground by the second.
Every time I shift against him, his grip at my waist tightens , fingers pressing into my hips through the thin fabric of my shirt. The heat of him beneath me is impossible to ignore now—solid and hard and very clearly affected by this as much as I am. My pulse jumps when I feel him exhale sharply against my mouth.
“Careful,” he murmurs, voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it.
I pull back just enough to look at him. “Why? You seem to be handling this fine.”
Jonah lets out a breathless laugh that turns into something else entirely when I roll my hips against him experimentally.
His eyes close for one dangerous second.
“So that’s what breaks the professor,” I whisper.
“You are enjoying this entirely too much.”
“Absolutely.”
His hand slides higher along my back beneath my shirt, warm palm spreading against bare skin carefully—always careful because of my shoulder—but there’s nothing cautious about the way he’s looking at me now.
The restraint is there. But barely.
Jonah kisses me like I’m something to be treasured rather than taken, and somehow that’s more devastating than anything I’ve felt in years. His hands are impossibly gentle on my skin even as his body tells a different story beneath me—hard and wanting and holding back with every ounce of willpower he has left.
“Lila.” My name comes out strangled against my mouth. “We should stop.”
“We should,” I agree, not stopping at all.
His forehead drops against mine again, and I can feel the effort it costs him to pull back even that much. His breath comes ragged, warm against my lips, and his hands settle carefully on my hips—not pulling me closer, but not letting go either.
“You’re injured,” he says, like he’s reminding himself as much as me. “And we’re both sleep-deprived and emotionally compromised and?—”
