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As if he can hear my thoughts, Jonah says, “We shouldn’t. Once was a fluke. Twice is the road to perdition.” The pad of his thumb moves over my skin, making my breath hitch.
“We shouldn’t,” I agree.
“I’m your boss,” he mutters. He skims a finger under my jaw, like I’m precious to him.
“You want to destroy me,” I whisper. He’s so close. His eyes are slumberous with desire. I can make out every lash, the tiny flecks of lighter brown in his eyes, each hair on his stubbled jaw.
“And you want to destroy me.” He doesn’t look like he cares, though.
I tip my head up to his. “Right now, I just want you.”
He draws in a sharp breath. He dips his head down. His breath whispers over my lips, smelling faintly of whiskey. I sway toward him.
“I don’t kiss,” he mutters. “But I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. I can’t stop myself.”
“So don’t.”
He groans low in his throat, like I’ll be his undoing, and seals his mouth to mine.
Jonah kisses me like he’s imagined doing it a hundred times. Unyielding, drinking me in, like this kiss is as necessary as his next breath. He pulls back to murmur, “Callie,” in that broken whisper, before kissing me again. The sound of my name in that low voice makes me shiver.
His lips are plush but firm as he tastes me. Hesitantly at first, until I kiss him back, and then he makes a needy sound in his throat and spears his hand into my hair. His lips move over mine, teasing, licking, until I can’t help but fall against his chest.
He wraps his arm around me and bands me to him. I’m on my tiptoes and he’s holding me up, but god, this is the best kiss I’ve ever had. Free-falling was right. My stomach is tight with desire, the way he grips my hair only stoking it higher.
The stroke of his tongue along the seam of my lips has mine parting. His tongue slicks against mine, heady and delicious. I want to fall into him and never come up for air. I think he’d let me. He kisses me like he wants to meld our bodies together, and I love it. I tentatively pull his bottom lip into my mouth, and he makes a feral sound. His other hand drops to my hip, kneading, pulling me against his hard body.
He wrenches his mouth away and sucks on my neck. Goosebumps follow, my nipples coming to points. I press closer, like I could climb him, and he growls his approval. Need is rushing through my veins, like I’ve chugged a bottle of whiskey. My head spins as he pulls my stomach against his erection. He’s running his lips over my throat, and damn him, I want more.
“Jonah.” I pant. “More.”
“You’re drunk.” He stills, his lips pressed to my throat, his heart thudding against his jacket and my hand.
“Not that drunk.” I’m pretty drunk, but I’m definitely not telling him that. He’ll stop and I want more of what I know he can do with that tongue.
“I don’t want a drunk fuck.” He pulls back. His lips are swollen, and his breath comes in harsh gusts. “If we have drunk sex, you’re going to regret it on Monday.”
“That’s not true.” But I don’t sound certain. I sway a little in his arms, and his face softens.
“I don’t want you to hate me in the morning. And you will hate me.” He brushes his thumb over my lips, and I chase his hands with my mouth. “Behave, Thompson. I’m taking you home. Lou will pick us up at the exit. You need sleep and I need to deal with this.” He gestures down to where his erection presses against his wool slacks. Heat flashes through me at the thought of him dealing with it. That veined bicep and his hand around his shaft. The way his lids would flutter closed with pleasure as he worked himself up.
“Will you think of me?”
“Fuck.” His eyes close briefly. “I will. I definitely will.”
35
Jonah
Callie is practically weaving on her feet by the time we exit the High Line.
“Tired?”
“No way.” She yawns. “That wasn’t a real yawn. Ignore it. I want to keep walking.”
“Come on, tiger. I’m taking you home.” Lou is already idling at the exit. I texted him when Callie insisted on opening the beers I got.
She protests a little but lets me pull her into the car. The dark interior closes around us, and I sigh with pleasure.
