Page 69 of Jonas

I felt heat hit my cheeks and prayed he couldn’t read my mind.

“Dee Dee?”

“Yeah?”

God, he really was gorgeous.

“Baby?”

“Huh?”

I felt my body sway forward, such was the magnitude of his pull.

His hand slipped back up to cup my cheek.

“You sure?”

I was too caught up in the way his gritty palm felt on my skin, not to mention the way his eyes had lost the humor, and in them now was something that looked a lot like lust. Therefore, I was multitasking—sinking into the feel of him and praying I was right about the look, too distracted to completely comprehend what he was asking, but I still replied, “Absolutely.”

When Jonas’s lips touched mine, the world melted away. When his tongue touched mine, I lost the last vestiges of rational thought, and as I suspected, he tasted magnificent. With each stroke of his tongue, my future came into sharp focus—what I wanted, what I needed, what I was going to have. And the effort I’d need to put in, to keep him. Bottom line, my soul had recognized Jonas, my body had fully engaged and was on board. My heart was the holdout, but I didn’t think it would take long for it to catch up. Not with the way Jonas was kissing me.

The dichotomy of possessive and soft was life-changing. The way his hand gripped the side of my face, keeping me where he wanted me while his lips remained gentle, was life-affirming. The way his tongue coaxed instead of demanded submission wasn’t magnificent—it was out-of-this-world phenomenal.

Despite my upbringing, I was a believer. I just didn’t believe the way my father and brother did, with an ugly, warped, bigoted view. I didn’t strongly disagree with how they used The Word to subjugate and discriminate—I loathed how they did. They bastardized and weaponized scripture. Like they did with everything, they turned something that was meant to be about love, kindness, good works into something horrid and mean and disgustingly malicious. But if I wasn’t sure, that kiss would’ve proven there was a God and He’d sent me someone to erase the teachings my father had beaten into me.

Yes, the kiss was that good. It was everything I needed it to be. It was full of desire and seduction and need, yet it was tender and slow and languid.

In other words, perfect.

So perfect, I squirmed to get closer. My lower half—this mostly being the area between my legs—wasn’t paying attention to the pains Jonas was taking to keep the kiss under cover. That part of me had a mind of its own and that mind was drenched in the need for more.

Unfortunately, my rocking had the undesired consequence of Jonas slowing the kiss to soft flicks of his tongue, which slowed even more to soft, gentle glides of his lips over mine before it morphed again to a softer peck to the corner of my mouth before he ended it altogether.

As endings went, it was just as fabulous as the kiss.

Still, I whimpered my protest.

Jonas growled his response.

My lady parts contracted.

That’s when Jonas smiled, and damn if that grin didn’t make my heart skip a beat.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Dee Dee.”

Her hips swiveled over my erection, her eyes went hazier, and lastly, she arched, pressing her tits harder against my chest.

This had to stop.

“Baby.”

Before I could stop her, she rocked again. My cock was so onboard with the rocking I had to clench my teeth to stop myself from jacking my hips to meet hers, or worse—tear her jeans off and fuck her in a mud hole.

With no other choice, I dropped my hand from her face and used both arms to hold her still. This meant her tits were crushed against my chest, her pussy was tight against my crotch, and her lips were once again within kissing distance.

“Derrika.”