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“Hmm, not here.” Brontë shook her head, as though the idea of staying in the room with him appalled her.
“Downstairs, in the bar, then?” Jonah stretched out his hand, pointing to the door. With a quick glance behind her, she strode through it.
As they walked to the elevator, Jonah tried to refocus his energy. He had made the mistake of allowing her to walk ahead of him. The sway of her hips and the ripeness of her ass almost had him tripping over his own feet. “Are you attending the reunion?”
“Mm, I thought I’d pop in and say hello. I’ve missed the previous ones.”
“Well, you have been busy building an empire.” Brontë had taken the business world by storm. What started out as her making some hair products for friends had turned into a lucrative company. Her products were household names and lined the shelves of major retailers everywhere.
The elevator arrived, and they entered. “I’m not the only one. Your company is publicly traded. You must be proud.” Hell yeah, Jonah was. He nodded in agreement. From an immigrant who had to share his room with his brothers and sisters, to a billion-dollar company. He’d made many sacrifices along the way to get to where he was. Didn’t he deserve to have one thing that he desired? Solely because it could bring him immense pleasure.
Jonah glanced at her in his peripheral. The woman exuded confidence. She always had. While he had always found her attractive, right now she was downright delectable. He had to make the biggest sales pitch of his life. Convince Brontë to come back up to that room, so he could give her exactly what she had signed up for. She turned slowly, giving him a knowing look. It was like she was in his head. The feeling was surreal; it had been a long time since he felt like he was the prey.
Jonah followed her off the elevator. Allowed her to take the lead to the bar. She found a quiet table away from traffic. They sat and waited for the server to come to take their order. Well, let the games begin.
ChapterThree
All the better to eat you.
Never one for pretense, Brontë refused to be anything but herself. She ordered a draft on tap, sat back, and observed Jonah. The wheels turning in his head were practically visible. He wanted her back upstairs in that room. She wasn’t opposed to the idea. It had been a couple of months since she found relief from anything other than a battery-operated friend. To prepare for tonight, she hadn’t even used the relief of one of her silicon helpers. It would be fair to say she was wound tighter than she would have liked to be.
Brontë toyed with the idea of playing coy. Pretending that she didn’t know what Jonah was after. She just didn’t have it in her to be anything but direct — even given their history. Coming to a new school had been difficult. Especially because she was so different. At first, she had considered Jonah a godsend. She thought they were kindred spirits. That was until she noticed that their friendship didn’t extend to prying eyes.
“You have ten minutes to convince me why we should head back upstairs together.” There. She had ripped off the Band-Aid.
His eyebrows arched upward. Then his face morphed from poker straight to rakishly devastating as his smile emerged. “There she is. You haven’t changed.”
“In some ways… no,” she countered.
Brontë took that moment to really assess Jonah. Time had been good to him. His inky black hair was perfectly coiffed, not a strand out of place. He had a sliver of silver at his right temple. It was clear he was in amazing shape. Wealth clung to him in an understated way that she recognised. Long gone was the handsome kid in hand-me-downs with the heavy accent desperate to fit in.
“I’m not sure if that is beneficial or not.” Jonah’s demeanour changed from almost jovial to business savvy. It should have been a turnoff that he was about to turn this into a deal he needed to close. However, there was something sexy about it to her.
“First, I feel I owe you a long overdue apology. Our friendship wasn’t something that should have been hidden under the guise of a tutor/tutee relationship. This isn’t an excuse, but I hope my explanation helps. I was desperate to fit in, and as a result, treated you poorly…” It was an interesting way to start his negotiations. She hadn’t expected him to go that route. It had bothered her to be treated that way by someone she genuinely liked and connected with. Eventually, she shrugged it off and moved on.
“I appreciate your apology.” Brontë sipped her beer. She noticed that he hadn’t touched his whisky neat. Hadn’t even given it a second glance since the server had placed it on the table.
“That’s gracious of you.” She nodded in acknowledgement of his sincerity. His gaze was direct, holding her captive in a way that made her belly flutter. She couldn’t help but wait with bated anticipation as to what he would say next.
“Listen, we both had expectations for tonight. I don’t see why our previous history should prevent us from going back upstairs and having a night full of passion.” Jonah leaned forward as he said ‘passion.’ Did he realize that his tone deepened, and his eyes darkened? She squeezed her legs together in expectancy.
Despite her feelings, she countered. “Yes, but I wanted to have my experience with a stranger.”
“Why is that?” Brontë knew the answer but wasn’t sure she wanted to divulge her reason, so she shrugged in response.
Correctly sensing she would say nothing, he continued. “It’s been well over twenty years. I think it is safe to say that we fall into the category of strangers. But if you tell me why you requested one, I can make sure I give… you… exactly… what you need and… want.”
Well, damn if that didn’t sound like a promise. “The thought of giving control to someone I don't know seemed easier. I am responsible for many people. For once, I decided that I would lie back and let someone else take care of my needs without having to directly express them.”
“Hmm.” Jonah looked around and called the server over.
“Hey Dan, can we have two bottles of distilled water?” Turning to her, he asked, “Prefer it cold? Do you need ice?”
She quirked her perfectly arched brow at him. “Room temperature please, no ice.”
“As the lady requested.” Dan nodded and was off.
“I’m fine. I don’t need any water.”
