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His eyes widen before a soft smile curls his lips. “Yes.”
Nodding, I turn and head upstairs, feeling all eyes on me and not minding one bit.
TWENTY-NINE
“Bert, I said I’m sorry!” Jonas whines as I step into the kitchen. My hair is still wet and hanging over my back, and I’m dressed in skintight black yoga pants and a crop top. I lean into the door and watch as Jonas follows an angry Bert around like a kicked puppy. With his lips pursed, Bert sniffs, ignoring Jonas as he cooks.
“Please, my man, I just want those epic pancakes you made,” Jonas begs. “I’ll go and clean up the vase. I’ll even get you a new one!”
Shaking my head, I stride to the table and take a seat next to Dimitri, who smiles at me. I grin back and knock my shoulder against his as we turn to watch the show, but then Nico comes in and steals all of my focus. My mouth becomes dry, and my thighs clench together as desire pounds through me.
He’s shirtless, wearing low-rise grey joggers that do nothing to hide his thick thighs and slightly hard length. I scan his impressive abs and Adonis belt, leading down to the joggers and then back up to his huge pecs. I get lost in his muscles before there’s a whisper in my ear.
“You’re drooling,” Dimitri teases.
“And you wouldn’t?” I mutter.
“Oh, I do,” he purrs.
I throw him a mock glare and wipe my mouth, even as my eyes jerk back to see Nico grinning at me, flashing straight white teeth, as he purposely heads over, leaning over the table to kiss my forehead. “Good fight. Next time, don’t hold back so much. You can’t hurt us.”
I swallow and nod, not trusting my voice when his man boobs are so close and I have the irrational urge to flick his nipple. Fuck it. I tweak his nipple, laughing when he jerks back. “Same goes for you.” I ignore the looks thrown my way, especially the dark, hungry one Nico gives me as I grab a plate and start to load it with fruit and pastries, whistling happily.
“Fucking hell,” Nico finally mutters as he sits opposite me, bringing his pecs back to my line of sight as I munch on fruit. There is a crash, and I jerk my gaze up to see Jonas on his knees before a shocked Bert, who dropped a pan.
“Please, Bert, I’m not into guys, but I’ll blow you if that’s what you want.”
I frown at the panic winding through Jonas’s tone. Looking at Louis, I see him sigh, scrub at his face, and nod at Dimitri.
“Dr. Davis used to starve him as an experiment and withhold his favourite foods as punishment and to taunt him,” he whispers sadly. “When we found him, he was half dead and crazed. He panics about food.”
“Fuck.” I climb to my feet and head over, my hand going to Jonas’s shoulder. He looks up at me sadly with haunted eyes, completely broken. Getting to my knees, I lean into him as I stroke his face, comforting him as tears fill his eyes. He’s terrified that someone will let him starve again and tease him with what he wants but can’t have. “Go sit down, baby, okay?”
He still seems concerned, but he stands, and with sagging shoulders, he heads to the table, not meeting anyone’s eyes. I look at Bert who tracks him with a shocked, saddened gaze.
“We all have our issues from my father. Do not ever withhold food from them again, do you understand me? I know it wasn’t meant as a punishment, but we’ve been treated as lesser humans since we were kids. Everything you can imagine was used as punishments. Don’t do that to us, please,” I beg when he looks like he’s about to cry.
“I swear, Miss Nova, I didn’t—”
I grab his hand and squeeze. “I know, my friend. I’m just explaining. Now, how about some pancakes?” I say happily. I meet Jonas’s eyes. He looks hopeful, like a child perking up.
“I will fill the entire house with them whenever you want, sir,” Bert tells Jonas, his back straightening and eyes determined, as if he would cater to his every whim to not see that look again. Turning, I sit next to Jonas, placing my hand on his thigh under the table. He jumps but settles into my side as I fill his plate.
“Eat for me,” I murmur, and he quickly dives into it as I meet Louis’s grateful gaze.
Not ten minutes later, a plate stacked so high with pancakes I can’t see Bert over it is placed before Jonas, who looks lost for words. Tears actually well in his eyes. “The doctor was a cruel man. I am not him. I’m sorry, Master Jonas. I meant no disrespect. You are always welcome in this house and in my kitchen, so never hesitate to ask for what you need. A friend of Miss Nova’s is a friend of mine.” With that, he bows to Jonas and goes back to making more pancakes, as if he truly will fill the house with them.
Jonas just stares at them, so I lean in and break the moment, knowing he will hate that we all saw his weakness. I would. “Are you just going to stare at them, or are you going to eat them before I decide I want them?” I tease.
He blinks when he turns to me with a bright, unguarded smile on his lips. He looks so innocent for once that it stops my heart. “Thank you,” he tells me, squeezing my hand before taking a pancake. I stare as he eats, and something shifts inside me. A barrier falls before this equally damaged, crazed man, and a sense of protectiveness roars through me, the force of it scaring me. I return to eating but make sure to watch him as he carefully eats and treasures the pancakes as if they are a gift.
And in a way, they are from Bert, to show Jonas not everyone in this world is the same.
When Jonas sits back with a groan, I see the usual mischievous sparkle in his eye and relax a little. He’s back, and he’s not lost in the past anymore. “Next time, I’m going to cover your entire body in them and eat them from you,” he warns, closing his eyes before he cracks one open when I laugh. “Hell, maybe I’ll even fill your cunt with syrup and drink it from you.”
“Jesus,” Louis mutters, making us all laugh, but mine is tense and filled with desire.
Jonas hears it, his grin knowing as he strokes my thigh under the table, heading higher and higher until I scoot my chair back suddenly. I am not ready to go there, not with him. I fuck for fun and never remember them. I know it wouldn’t be like that between us, and I don’t want to lose them.
