Page 71 of Jonas

“Right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

When her right eye narrowed, I crushed her tits to my chest and buried my face in her neck and laughed.

“What?” she snapped as my laughter waned to a chuckle.

“I’m not afraid of snakes,” she reiterated.

“I believe you,” I fibbed.

“Then why are you laughing at me?”

Laughing at her.

Hell no.

Reluctantly, I pulled my face out of her neck and caught her eyes.

“I would never laugh at you, baby.”

“Then what are you laughing at?”

I had never heard so much vulnerability packed into one question. Her tone, coupled with the somber look in her eyes, made my gut clench.

“I was laughing at the one-eyed pirate squint you had going on,” I told her.

At my honesty, her body turned to stone.

“So, you were laughing at me.”

Yeah, that was vulnerability I’d heard. But I’d missed the fear lacing the rejection she’d been preparing for.

With another squeeze—this one not loosening—I kept her as close as I could.

“Mark this, Dee Dee; the pirate squint was cute as fuck—that’s what I was laughing at.” When she started to pull away, I tightened my hold. “I do not lie. I do not bullshit. I do not play games. I do not make promises I cannot keep. I do not say shit I don’t mean. So you can take it as the God’s honest truth when I tell you, I would never laugh at you. Not ever, Derrika, and you can take that as the promise it’s meant to be. That doesn’t mean I won’t laugh when you do something cute, something out of character, something I find endearing or sweet or when we’re sharing a moment after I carry you out of a pond—this after the best first kiss of my life—and you’re trying to convince me you didn’t climb me like a pole because you’re not afraid of snakes.”

I didn’t miss her eyes going lazy when I admitted our kiss was phenomenal. That also meant I didn’t miss it when the laziness evaporated and the twitchy right eye squint came back. I managed to hold back my laughter that time, but just barely.

“I didn’t climb you like a pole.”

“You’re right. My bad. You must’ve been trying out for the Olympic hurdle team. Either that or you were angling to ride my face the way you were attempting to get your legs over my shoulders.”

“Maybe I wanted a piggyback ride?”

Christ, she was being cute again.

“A piggyback ride, with your crotch in my face?”

She lifted a brow and continued to fight her losing corner.

“I was trying to climb over you to get to your back.”

“Right,” I muttered my disbelief.

“I was.”

“I believe you,” I lied.