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Still, Jonas glances over his shoulder at her. She flips the page of her book and points out a picture on the page to Spartan. Oblivious.
“Anything in particular?”
“No. Just the room itself.” I tuck my lips between my teeth. “What might look good in there.”
Jonas blends the pasta and sauce together, then takes the meatballs out of the oven. He sets the pan on the stove, then steps my way while they cool. “Throw some ideas my way.”
He tosses me a wink. A wink. Have I ever seen him wink in my general direction? Not so much. Smile? Yes. God, I love his smile. Especially when his dimple makes an appearance. But winks are not a Jonas thing.
I narrow my eyes. “What are you up to?”
“Just making dinner,” he says, a wide smile plumping his cheeks and displaying my favorite dimple.Way to distract me—for now.
We plate up dinner and eat earlier than usual. Spartan crunches on his kibble and tries to get Clementine to sneak him pieces of meatball. Thank goodness, she doesn’t give in to his cute whines and grumpy groans at her feet.
Once we finish dinner and clean up, I check my email while Jonas grabs his things. An email from Theresa is the bearer of good news.
“Guess what,” I say as Jonas walks back out to the living room.
“What’s up?”
“The hearing has been moved up. Monday, the twenty-fourth.” I smile, glad to have some form of happy news.
“This month?” I nod and Jonas pulls me in for a hug. “Thank god. That’s less than two weeks.”
His realization swirls in my head.Less than two weeks.Before the end of the month, all this will be over. I hope.Please, let this be over.
Maybe the hearing adjustment is the reason for all the quiet. No more signs of Leo. No threats or unannounced appearances. I have no plans on jinxing this, but I will take all the good news and positive energy I can get.
“Come on, let’s go.”
We file out to our cars. Although Operation Don’t-leave-Autumn-and-Clementine-alone is still in full swing, it has been deemed safe for me and Clementine to be in my car if someone in the trusted circle follows us. A smidge more freedom while remaining safe.
At the apartment, we crash on the couch and settle in to watch a movie with Clementine. On the nights we stay at the apartment, Jonas sleeps on the couch. Initially, I protested and said he could sleep in bed with me. The gentleman his father raised him to be, he refused to uproot Clementine’s normal bed space. It wasn’t fair to her.
In the same breath, he also said if she fell asleep on the couch curled up with Spartan, he may reconsider my offer. I don’t believe him.
While Clementine watches the movie, Jonas and I watch each other. He lays on his side—back against the cushions—while I lie on my back. With the softest touch, he slowly traces his fingertip over my skin. Following the motion with his eyes.
Over my collarbone, from shoulder to sternum. Up the column of my throat before brushing my hair aside. Along the sensitive skin beneath my ear. Around the shell of my ear. With each direction change, a shiver rolls through my body. When he reaches my temple, he draws small circles there. Drags his finger down my cheekbone. Encircles my lips, then presses the single digit in the middle before bringing his gaze back to mine.
Have you ever watched your lover as they intimately touch you non-sexually? I have never been so enamored with another person.
Without effort, Jonas loves me. Gives me every non-materialistic gift a woman desires and needs. Worships me. Cares for my daughter as if she were his own.
And he does all this without a single word said. His love is in his actions. The way he cannot keep his eyes off me. How he reveres me as a woman and a mother—strong and capable and exceptional. How he touches me—gentle and rough. The way he kisses me—as if every kiss may be our last. The way he breathes me in and hugs me close.
He leans down and I close my eyes as he presses his lips to mine. Slipping a hand behind my neck, he presses more of his weight into me. I pant when he sucks on my lower lip. Roll my eyes back when he dips his tongue in. Fist his hair when our bodies tangle like wild teenagers.
I really want to take him to bed. Strip him bare. Feel his steely-soft erection between my lips. Taste him on my tongue and swallow every drop when he releases down my throat. Grind my hips against his face and scream his name as I gloss the stumble on his jaw. Kiss him like a savage and taste my saltiness on his skin.
I want to do all of this and more. But not tonight. Not here.
In my apartment, we exchange simple touches. Touches that imprint your skin more than any tattoo ever could. Touches that express our fierce connection in other ways. The emotional and mental and spiritual.
Reason says all things never stay. But reality gives a swift kick in the ass to reason, telling her to shut the hell up. Because Jonas… he will always be around.
TWENTY
