Page 139 of Jonas

Jonas’s hands came up, carefully cradled my face, and kissed me.

This wasn’t one of his hot and heavy, claiming kisses. It wasn’t deep and commanding. It was soft and gentle and just right.

When he was done with my mouth, he broke the kiss to whisper, “Shirt off, Dee Dee.”

I scrambled to do his bidding and tossed the shirt over my shoulder.

“No need to rush, baby, we got all night.”

We totally had all night. But still, Jonas didn’t delay getting me ready, though like his kiss, his touches were slow and reverent. Caresses and glides instead of urgent and desperate.

By the time Jonas was done playing, I was panting, but still when I guided him where I needed him, I whispered, “I love you.”

When I was fully seated with him inside of me, he whispered back, “I love you, too.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“Honest to God, brother, that’s the fifth time I’ve seen you wash your hands in the last hour. Have you developed OCD?” Easton asked.

Cash shot him a scathing look. Derrika looked over at me with big questioning eyes. When I had no answer, she glanced across the table at a smirking Lore.

“Can we just finish this shit up, please?” Cash griped.

“Zane and Nebraska will be down in a few minutes,” Kira reminded him of something she just told to us all not even three minutes ago.

And yeah, in the last ten minutes we’d been in the basement, Cash had gone up twice to wash his hands.

“What’s your problem?” I asked.

Cash’s head snapped in my direction, and he aimed his scowl at me.

“Oh come on, stop being such a baby,” Lore taunted.

Oh fuck, this couldn’t be good if Lore knew or was the source of Cash’s uncharacteristic bad mood.

“Tell me, Stella, how many dicks have you touched in the last twenty-four hours?”

“Not as many as you,” she shot back with a smile.

Cash growled and flipped her off.

“What the fuck?” I half laughed, half choked out.

“That’s why you keep washing your hands?” Easton asked. “You were wearing gloves.”

Derrika sounded a lot like I did when she requested, “I’m sorry. Pause. Rewind. Why was Cash touching penises? No, back up, whose penises was Cash touching, then explain why.”

Cash crashed into a chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and with a ferocious scowl looked at Penny. The poor woman looked like she was going to faint with Cash’s anger aimed her way. “I hate all of these people,” he told her.

“Um. Okay.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Cash,” I warned when the woman flinched.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I could offer you a cup of tea, and you could tell me how touching a penis made you feel if you need to talk about it?” Penny offered.

“No, I don’t want to talk about how touching dick made me feel. Though for the record, it made me feel pissed off, not turned on.”