And although we have been seeing each other almost nonstop for the last two weeks, we have yet to do anything beyond some serious kissing and light petting. Not that either of us doesn’t want to do more. The perfect opportunity just hasn’t presented itself yet. But it feels fast approaching.
Tonight, we are having dinner at Jonas’s house. Clementine is bringing her favorite movie with her for us to watch afterward. This tends to be the trend with each dinner we share. The only night we don’t see each other is when he goes to his parent’s house for their weekly family dinner. It gives us both a night apart to do anything we want.
I park in Jonas’s driveway and cut the engine. As soon as I do, Clementine unbuckles, grabs her purse with the movie tucked inside, and hops out of the car.
“Sparty,” she hollers as she runs for the door. “I’m here, Sparty.”
Her enthusiasm to see Spartan cracks me up. But what’s even funnier is Spartan on the other side. Jonas has told me each time we pull up, after our first visit here, Spartan sits at the door and whimpers until Clementine walks in. Their instant connection is so freaking precious.
Clementine bolts up the three steps and turns the door handle, walking into Jonas’s house as if she lives there. I laugh and shake my head.
As I step up to the front door, Jonas greets me with a chuckle. Both of us bewildered by his fur-child and my human one. “Hey, scarlet,” he says, kissing the hell out of me as I shut the door.
Sometime over the last two weeks, Jonas started calling me scarlet. The first time he said it, I cocked my head in question. Wasn’t sure if he was calling me someone else? Then, he explained between my lipstick, nail color, and my overall fashion sense, it fit. It didn’t bother me. If anything, I loved it. Quite a bit. The term of endearment made my cheeks heat. Scarlet, of course. And since, he says it more often.
When he breaks the kiss—because let’s be honest, I will never break our kisses—I sigh and lean into him. “Hey. What’s for dinner?”
We wander from the living room—where Clementine and Spartan sit on the couch and cuddle together as Clementine tells him about her day—to the kitchen. I could easily stare at the two of them for hours and not tire of how darling they are. Two peas in the cutest pod.
“Thought we’d have homemade chicken tenders with macaroni and cheese and corn on the cob.”
“You really are domestic,” I tease as I hug his middle and stare into the large pot of cheesy noodles. A girl could really get used to this. Her guy cooking dinner nightly. And if I get lucky, he will let me help with the dishes.
“My momma taught me right. Wanted to make sure we were all self-sufficient. Either that or so we could pull our weight in a relationship.”
When I get the opportunity to meet Jonas’s mom, I plan to thank her. She raised a wonderful man. No doubt his sisters are equally amazing. From what he has told me, during their weekly dinners, Jonas and his sisters usually make most of the meal. The only exception is when they have something which takes more time to cook.
“Look forward to meeting her,” I say.
He stops stirring the pasta and I stop breathing. Did I go too far? Suggest meeting the parents a little too soon. Meeting Jonas’s mom—since already meeting his dad—seems inevitable, but I don’t expect it by any specific time.
Jonas sets the spoon on the rest and spins to face me. He clasps my hands and wraps them around his waist, drawing me near. My hips press to his upper thighs. He sweeps my long flowing hair off my cheek and tucks it behind my ear before cupping both my cheeks in his palms. Slowly, he closes the space between us and kisses me.
Fevered and intense. Lips smacking. Tongues tangling. Hips grinding. Moan emitting.
His fingers slip into my hair and curl in my locks. He draws me closer. Kisses me deeper. Kisses me as if I am his oxygen.
Over the last two weeks, I learned to wear my hair down more with Jonas. Otherwise, it ended up looking like a hot mess in less than an hour. At least with my hair down, I didn’t spend every five minutes trying to fix it. And Jonas really loved my hair down. A lot. Oftentimes, his fingers toyed with the strands. While we cooked dinner. During movie time, while we spooned on the couch. Every possible chance he got.
When he breaks the kiss, I gasp and work to catch my breath. He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed. We stand absolutely still for a moment, absorbing our exchange.
“Can’t wait for you to meet her, and my sisters, too. Think they’ll love you and Clementine. Plus, Clementine can play with Lex and Spartan. Whenever you’re ready, of course.”
I nod. “We should talk about it. Everything you’ve told me about them, it feels as if I already know them.”
An angry beeping fills the room as the timer on the stove interrupts our little moment. In the living room, I hear Clementine tell Spartan dinner is ready. And just like every other time she says this to him, he yips and bounces around the house. Because Spartan is trained to know the word dinner equals food. Same goes for breakfast. Clementine giggles every time she says it and Spartan flips out.
Jonas presses the buzzer and shuts it off. Then removes the lightly breaded chicken strips from the oven and sets the tray on trivets. After they cool a minute, we portion our plates then feed Spartan.
Just like we have several times over the last two weeks, we sit at the breakfast bar and eat our meal. When we finish, we settle on the couch and watch Clementine’s movie. She lies on the end of the couch with a chaise—Spartan sprawled at her feet and facing the television. Jonas and I lay on the longer section of the sofa. Him behind me, his front to my back. Hand on my abdomen, toying with the hemline of my shirt. Knuckles brushing back and forth across my skin just beneath my navel. His breath hot on my neck below my ear. On occasion, he lightly kisses the sensitive skin there.
And every time he does, I groan as quietly as possible while grinding back against him.
As big a fan of foreplay as I am, this level of teasing may soon be my demise. Weeks of titillating torture. I love it and hate it at the same time. All I know is, is when we eventually have sex, it will be mind blowing.
Slowly, I turn around so Jonas and I lie face-to-face. I brush his fallen hair off his forehead and lean into him. As I weave my upper leg between his, he draws me closer and throws his leg over my hip.
Weeks ago, it would have freaked me out to do this with Clementine in the room. But now, things have become more comfortable with all of us. One, her eyes are on the movie as she combs her fingers through Spartan’s fur. Two, she has seen Jonas and I kiss so many times now, it is normal. Natural. Nothing to bat an eye at.
I brush my lips over his then retreat. “God, I want you,” I confess. His hand on my lower back holds me in place as he slowly rocks his hips forward. My eyes roll back then close.
“Right there with you, scarlet. Not tonight, though,” he whispers. “But soon.”
I nod and bring my lips back to his. For the remainder of the movie, we make out like teenagers. Jonas tucks his hand between us and explores my skin beneath my shirt. He doesn’t dip beneath my bra or push it to the side. And hell if I don’t have lady blue balls by the time the movie ends.
As the credits scroll up the screen, neither of us moves. Clementine doesn’t say a word about the movie being over, which means she recently fell asleep. But the moment we move, she will wake. It happens every time.
So, we stay right where we are. Cuddled in each other’s arms. Lips locked and tongues a tangled mess. Hands traveling the others’ body. Squeezing and groping. Taunting and teasing.
When Jonas’s fingertips graze the elastic band of my panties, I gasp and tip my head back. He trails his lips and tongue down the column of my neck. I rock into him, needing to feel him against me. Even if we are both still completely clothed, I need the friction.
“Oh god,” I whisper-moan.
Jonas’s hands are in a frenzy—kneading my hips harder, driving us together over and over. He sucks at my skin, at the dip bel
ow my collarbone—from sternum to shoulder—nipping my skin when he reaches the end point. He rocks our hips together, again and again. The friction rubs me in all the right places. Sparks fire beneath my skin. A light sheen of sweat coats my skin. Energy swirls throughout my body, like a river from head to toe, and slowly converges beneath my navel.
His lips travel up my neck, across the line of my jaw, then return to mine. He devours me as if I am his last meal. Hips rocking in time together as his hand trails along my abdomen and lightly scrapes my flesh.
I moan against his lips, fist the fabric of his shirt, just before my body stutters and releases. He sucks on my lower lip as my orgasm consumes me. Swallows me whole.
“Fuck, that was sexy as hell,” he whispers against my lips.
Clementine groans and I stop breathing. “Mama,” she says, her voice thick with sleep.
“Yeah, pumpkin,” I answer, hoping I don’t sound too far off from normal. Jonas smiles wickedly in front of me and I resist the urge to slap him.
“Are we going home soon?”
“Soon, pumpkin.”
She doesn’t say anything else for a minute and I wonder if she dozed back off. When I lift up and glance over at her, her eyes are closed but her fingers are moving in Spartan’s fur again.
“I feel bad,” I tell Jonas.
He furrows his brow. “Why?”
Glancing down between us, I rock my hips against him and hear him groan. “Because I can’t return the favor now.”
He nods and kisses the tip of my nose. “Please don’t worry about that. I’m a saint in the patience department.”
“Still feel bad.”
A wide, toothy smile spreads across his lips and his dimple makes an appearance. “Just remember it for when you can make it up to me.”
I lean back in and kiss him, but he breaks his lips away far too soon and leaves me wanting. “Fine. Guess I better go. Not that I want to.”
Jonas softly brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “More than anything, I want you to stay. But not tonight.”
Pushing out my lip, I pout and laugh when Jonas drops his face in the crook of my neck and grunts. “Please stop pouting. You have no idea what that does to me.”
“Oh really…” I kick the corner of my mouth up in a devilish smile. “Note to self. Pouting is my weapon.”
“Yeah, that may be true. But I’m sure I have a few up my sleeve too.”
I narrow my eyes at him and he laughs quietly. When he doesn’t budge or say anything else, I shift to roll off the couch, but Jonas stops my momentum. Rolls me back to him and proceeds to tickle the sides of my abdomen. I shriek and twitch beneath his hands. Clementine wakes up more at the other end of the couch and sits up, watching as Jonas tickles me.
“Tickle Mama party!” she announces, way more awake than she was a minute ago.
And then Clementine crawls over and drops on top of us both. Her little fingers dig in near my belly and wiggle around. Jonas laughs as he and Clementine continue to torture me.
“Stop,” I shriek. “P-please. Pr-pretty please.” No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop laughing.
Eventually, Jonas stops tickling me and suggests they give Mama a break to breathe. As much as the whole tickle fest made my abdomen sore and my throat dry, I wouldn’t trade out this moment for anything. Jonas and my daughter tag-teaming me in the name of fun. Joining forces to make me laugh. Seeing Clementine jumping in the game with Jonas, it jolts something in the center of my chest.
My little girl has a father-type figure in her life. Someone she is fond of and loves spending time with. As this realization hits me, I stare at the man lying in front of me. Really look at him. Study the kindness in his gaze. The way he looks at me. And the way he looks at my little girl. How thoughtful and generous he is toward us both.
And at this exact moment in time, reality dawns brighter than ever. A truth I can no longer ignore. But a truth I am not ready to confess aloud.
I am in love with Jonas Thompson. Madly.
Leaning back in, my eyes open and locked on his, I kiss him tenderly. He closes his eyes briefly and exhilaration bleeds from his lips to mine. The surge amplifies and pulses through my veins. Wakes every nerve ending and lights me on fire. Spreads from my lips to limbs and comes back to center where it fuses together and forms a life all its own.
My pulse goes into overdrive and I breathe shallowly. When Jonas breaks the kiss, his eyes pop back open and he sees it. The intense emotion alive between us. What I feel. What I know he feels too. But we both stay quiet.
This is not the time or place. But soon, without a doubt, I will tell him.
“Mama, is it time to go home?”
My eyes don’t leave Jonas’s. “Why don’t you pick up what you brought over. We’ll go in a moment.” But my eyes tell Jonas leaving is the last thing I want to do. A slow nod of his head, he then kisses the tip of my nose.
Reluctantly, I sit up and fetch my shoes. In less than five minutes, Clementine and I are ready to go. I wish for a valid excuse to stay longer, but it’s late and Clementine is tired. And I should do what is best for her.
We walk out the front door. I unlock the car and start it up so the heat will warm the cabin. “Give me just a minute.” Clementine rests her head against the door and nods. She will be out before we get home.
I close the door and turn to Jonas. We don’t say a word. He holds my face in his palms and leans in closer. When his lips touch mine, he is so tender. More tender than I have ever felt before and I mold my body to his. Thread my fingers through the loops of his jeans and pull him against my waist. Hold him flush to me as we express all the emotions we aren’t saying aloud.
Because Jonas feels it too—how deeply I have fallen—and matches the emotion.
When he breaks the kiss all too soon, he swipes both his thumbs over my cheeks and places one last kiss on my lips. “Drive safe, scarlet,” he says, soft and gruffly.
“I will. And I’ll text once we’re home.” The sentiment—those three words—almost slips from my lips, but I catch it. Catch it and remind myself now is not the time. Soon.
“If you really meant it when you said you’d like to meet my family, I can see if they have room for two more on Wednesday.”
Placing one last kiss on his lips, I smile. “Yes, I would love to.”
“I’ll double-check. Not that I think it’ll be an issue.” He kisses my forehead. “‘Night, scarlet. Get little C in bed.”
“Night.” I get in the car and back out of Jonas’s driveway. On the drive home, with my baby girl in the passenger seat passed out, I recall my eureka moment. The exact moment in time when I realized I am in love with Jonas.
Sure, we haven’t been dating very long. Maybe a month altogether. But does love have rules? Is there some hidden decree which dictates how long you have to know someone before you can realize the depth of your affection for them? No. Because love has no rules. Never has. Never will.
Society may deem it odd to do or say or feel certain things in a relationship when it is still new. But societal rules were made by people who feared being vulnerable. And love is one of the most vulnerable emotions in existence.
Now, I just have to find the right time to tell Jonas of my revelation. And be ready to hear it in return. Because I see it in his eyes. Jonas Thompson loves me. Unconditionally.
Twenty-Two
Jonas
After talking with Mom—who I knew would freak out in the best way—I open my text history with Autumn to let her know Wednesday is a go. I also mentally prepare her for the onslaught of questions she will get. Because as much as I love my mother and sisters, they are curious women. Especially since I have never brought a woman home. Ever.
The moment I get off the phone with my mom Saturday morning, I text Autumn.
Jonas: Mom is way too excited to meet you. Haven’t said anything to my sisters yet, but I’m sure they know.
Autumn: Oh god. Should I be worried?
&nbs
p; Jonas: Nah. They’re harmless. But be ready.
Autumn: Don’t think I’ve ever been this scared. lol
Jonas: I’ll protect you.
Autumn: My hero.
Autumn and I chat a little longer. She and Clementine are going to the park with Penny and Rex, from the tattoo shop. From everything Autumn has shared with me so far, everyone in the shop is pretty close. More like family. When she first mentioned it to me, but didn’t say anything about her actual family, I tucked that little tidbit away for the future. A conversation for down the road when Autumn is ready to tell me more about her past.
Reluctantly, I let her go so they can enjoy the park. Spartan and I head out to the back yard where I work on the flower beds more. Spartan lays in the grass and soaks up the sunshine for a while.
I add new fertilizer to the beds in the area I work on and plant the small shrubs and flowers I had Clementine help me choose. Last weekend, I told her I needed her help to make my back yard pretty. She stood tall, more than willing to assist.
We walked around the home improvement store for an hour and stared at rows and rows of options. We narrowed down her twenty choices to four, for now. When we got back to the house, she helped me plant the first flower plant. I told her I would do most of the rest and make the flower beds pretty for her to look at when we were outside.
In a matter of no time at all, this little girl abducted my heart. And honestly, I don’t care if she never gives it back. She is the sweetest little human I have ever known. Mom, Jasmine, and Jillian will have a field day with her. And without a doubt, they will fall in love with her just as quickly. As well as with Autumn.
Fine Line (Inked Duet #1) Page 17