Page 147 of Jonas

He didn’t answer me until we were in his bedroom.

“If we need more space, we can add a second story or blow out the side of the house with the other two bedrooms.”

That was so out of left field I wasn’t tracking.

“What?”

“When we have kids,” he announced.

My belly fluttered and I was reminded that with all the unprotected sex we were having, those kids might start coming sooner rather than later.

“Six months?” I went back to his previous declaration.

“We’re giving it six months, then my diamond will be on your finger and I’ll have your gold on mine.”

My heart joined in on the action, but instead of fluttering, it started pounding.

“We are?”

He tossed me onto the bed, grabbed my ankle, pulled me to the edge, spread my legs, and before he dropped to his knees he confirmed, “We are.”

And then his mouth was on me.

But before he could get down to business, I reached out and fisted his hair.

When his eyes tipped up, I told him, “I love you.”

He lapped at my center before he pulled back and said, “I know you, Derrika. You were made to love me.”

With that, my man got down to business.

I didn’t need the words back.

Because I knew he was made to love me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Stella Eloise

By my count, Cash Phillips fucked me no less than five times.

And he had yet to lay a hand on me.

This was a ridiculously stupid mistake. And I didn’t make mistakes, especially not ridiculously stupid ones. Missteps left you vulnerable. Slip-ups could get you killed. But mistakes like this had far greater ramifications.

Yet there I was, fully participating in the madness.

It was like a compulsion, and those were bad, too.

He was a compulsion.

An addiction.

One I both hated and couldn’t get enough of.

It wasn’t that Cash oozed sex—or at least that wasn’t the only reason. I’d known plenty of good-looking men, all suffering from varying degrees of inflated ego. And I’d enjoyed those men and their arrogance—that was, if their skill actually measured up to their conceit. What I had never enjoyed or partaken in was throwing barbs and banter.

There was flirting with the intent of seduction, then there was verbal fucking. Cash had the first down to a science, but the second he understood better than any male I’d ever met. He was so well-versed in the art of conquest I feared if I wasn’t careful I’d do what I’d never, ever done with a man.