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His face softens. “Yeah?” His lips curve in a lopsided smile.
This is love. That feeling of stars bursting in my chest when he smiles. The quiet comfort of knowing I have someone by my side. Am I brave enough to tell him? Am I brave enough to go down this road and not lose myself along the way?
“Yeah.” I confirm.
* * *
“Stay with me,” Jonah insists when we get back to the city.
“Stay with you? Really? You don’t want your privacy?”
“I just want you.” His eyes are serious, his expression determined.
So I agree, and staying with Jonah turns out to be magical. He eats his meals in the dining room inside the atrium, which functions like a greenhouse in the winter. Vines cascade from the ceiling down three stories and dangle above our heads. That night, his chef makes us steak salad and serves a light red that I’m sure costs more than I want to know.
Jonah has clothes delivered for me from Katie and her team. Pajamas, sexy underwear, comfortable clothes, slinky dresses. Every night, I try on a new set of lingerie and distract him from reading in his bed. To my delight, he pops an arm behind his head and lets the sheets pool around his bare stomach while he reads. On Tuesday, I wear a lacy red set, and he groans like a man undone before he pounces on me and goes down on me with luxurious slowness. The brush of my hand on his cock has him spilling into it with his teeth clenched. Watching him come apart is without a doubt the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
On Wednesday, he tells me we can play hooky from the office. His mouth is on my neck, his erection digging into my back. This is how I wake up most mornings. Jonah might start on his side of the bed, but he migrates to mine in the night, like he doesn’t want to stop touching me.
“Hooky again? Are you okay? Let me check if you have a fever,” I tease.
“Let me show you how fun I can be.” He nips at my ear and rolls me onto my stomach before stretching me deliciously around his thick cock. We watch movies on his massive couch, and I find out that while he might be a ruthless asshole when he wants to be, he loves comedies. The dumber the better.
“Wayne’s World? That’s one of my favorites.” My legs are slung over his on the low couch. It reminds me of a giant marshmallow. A bit silly, but damn comfortable.
In response, he quotes the famous line about being frank, and I laugh.
We work out every morning and every night we use the sauna in his home gym. He shows me what he learned from his masseuse, and I force him to let me massage him back.
The very best part of being with Jonah is his undivided attention. When he speaks to me, it’s like I’m the only person in his world. He makes eye contact when he speaks, he mulls over what I say before responding, and he always cares about my answers to his questions. The nice clothes and the big house are fine, but what I could get addicted to is him. His intensity, his single-minded focus on everything, from my past to my pleasure, his raw honesty, and his ambition.
I watch him work at all hours and realize that he does it all for the people around him. His company, his employees, his family. The weight of everything is on his shoulders and he carries his burden proudly.
I could love him just for that. I’m watching him type out an email at his kitchen counter. When he finally finishes, he shuts his laptop with a sigh.
“What?” he asks, seeing me watching him.
“You care. A lot.”
His brows go up.
“You pretend not to care.” I point a finger at him. “But you do.”
“I like money,” he says nonchalantly.
I shake my head. “It’s more than that. You’re a good man, Jonah Crown.”
He stands and stalks toward me, still in his green suit from today. So handsome, especially with his hair gelled back and his jaw stubbled with five o’clock shadow. His gaze goes predatory. “Trying to change me, Thompson?”
“Just calling it like I see it.” I tip my chin up.
He nudges me back against the wall until I’m pinned there with my wrists in his hand. His thigh is between my legs. Just the barest motion has need cascading through me.
“I’m not good. Take it back,” he growls.
I nearly laugh. “You are for me.”
“True,” he murmurs, dipping his lips to my neck. “Only for you.”
