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I couldn’t make sense of what I was feeling around the younger man. Jonas’s touch wasn’t exactly sexual but if a woman had been touching me in the same way, I wouldn’t have hesitated to act on the curiosity that was flooding through me now. Was what I was feeling about attraction or was it about just needing to connect with another person in a way I hadn’t in a really long time? I’d never once in my life even looked at another man in the same way that I had women.
It had to be the stress. There was no other explanation. And my body was reacting to Jonas because we had a connection that was born of terrible circumstances. If I’d met Jonas on the street, I wouldn’t have given him a second thought.
What about Mace?
“I should probably get back to the guests,” I muttered as I pushed back the memory of the sensation that had rushed through me when Mace had had me in his grip.
It’s fucking stress.
Jonas nodded and removed the ice pack.
“Jonas, can I ask what you put on Carrie’s casket?”
The younger man was in the process of reaching for a towel when I asked the question and I didn’t miss the way he stiffened.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” I said.
“It was a picture,” he said as he began drying off my hand from where the condensation from the ice pack had dampened it.
“A picture?” I prodded.
“A drawing,” he clarified. “Of you,” he admitted, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “I would have done your entire family if I had known what your parents looked like,” he added. “I’m pretty good at remembering faces,” he said quickly. “I didn’t sneak a picture of you or anything.”
I smiled at that. “Thank you for doing that for her.”
“I, um…I did one for you,” Jonas said softly and then he reached for a sketchbook that I hadn’t noticed sitting on the edge of the sink. I could see his fingers trembling just a little bit as he pulled a loose piece of paper from between the pages of the pad.
It seemed to take Jonas a moment to work up the courage to hand it to me. I’d prepared myself for a simple sketch of Carrie’s features which would have been undoubtedly distorted considering how much time had passed since Jonas had last seen her. But the girl I saw looking back at me was exactly the Carrie I remembered. Jonas hadn’t just gotten her features right; he’d gotten everything right. The way her eyes lit up from the inside, the slight lift in her smile that made you wonder what she was thinking and the coy way she tilted her head as if she knew exactly what you were thinking.
“She looks exactly like the last time I saw her. We played cards for hours and hours on Thanksgiving night during my last leave before she disappeared…It’s perfect,” I whispered and then I did what I’d wanted to do since the day I’d gone to Jonas’s studio to apologize. I enfolded Jonas in my arms and I felt a big breath escape me as his arms wrapped around my waist. We were still both sitting so the angle didn’t let me pull him up against me the way I wanted to but I still reveled in how at ease I finally felt. I tried not to think on it too much that I liked the soft fragrances of aftershave and man teasing my senses, or the way Jonas’s hard body flexed beneath my palms. Or that the feel of his jaw brushing my neck felt insanely good. And I definitely did my best not to dwell on the fact that it would be so easy to turn my head just a little so my lips could taste his skin, flutter over his pulse, skim over his full lips.
I was lucky that Jonas finally pulled back on his own because I was struggling to be the first one to end the contact. But then Jonas sent me a tremulous smile and I knew I was fucked. Completely and royally.
Chapter Nine
Mace
The first thing I noticed as I pulled the van into an open spot in front of Jonas’s gallery was a gorgeous ass in a tight pair of jeans sticking out from beneath the hood of Jonas’s car. I had no doubt who the ass belonged to, since I’d caught myself looking at it more than once. The last time had been the day before when I pulled Cole off the unlucky bastard he’d decided to let his rage loose on. Jonas and I had arrived at Cole’s house just in time to see Cole shove the skinny, stringy haired guy down the porch stairs. I hadn’t actually heard anything the two men said to each other so I had no idea what had caused the fight, but a part of me had enjoyed seeing someone as cool and collected as Cole lose it. But I hadn’t liked the crowd that’d gathered around to watch Cole’s meltdown.
