I nod. She moves a lock of hair away from her face with a flick of her wrist. “I don’t like violence, Jericho. So no beating anyone up please.”
“Then they’d better not upset you.”
She smiles at my words, thinking I’m joking, but I protect what’s mine, and she is mine now.
She falls back onto the sheets, spreading her legs wide. “I don’t feel properly claimed then. You need to do a better job.”
I laugh quietly as I settle into the best place on earth. “Yes, ma’am. Let’s remedy that.”
41
Nora
Well, now I’ve been properly claimed. I inspect my body in the bathroom mirror—love bites, tiny bruises from his giant fingers, and beard burns cover a good part of me, and I don’t remember feeling this good.
I emerge from the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a fluffy white towel, my skin flushed from the hot shower and water from my hair dripping down my back. My clothes are scattered across his bedroom floor where we left them, but I’m in no rush to collect them. Instead, I tiptoe toward the bed where he’s still sleeping, one arm flung across the space I vacated. He sleeps deeply, I’ve discovered, like someone who’s spent years staying alert and is finally letting his guard down. Probably because of all his traveling. I imagine it’s hard to relax being on new territory nearly every month.
The house is quiet except for his steady breathing and the occasional creak of old wood settling. My house does the same thing, and it’s an oddly comforting sound.
I perch on the edge of the mattress, watching the rise andfall of his chest. The sheets are tangled around his waist, leaving his torso bare, a canvas of hard muscle and scattered scars I explored with my fingertips. My gaze lingers on a particularly jagged mark that looks like a stab wound near his ribs, and I wonder again about the stories he hasn’t told me, which are plenty, I’m sure. I want to ask about every single ridge on his skin, but I want him to tell me about them himself.
“You planning to stare all morning?” His voice, rough with sleep, startles me.
I smile, tugging the towel tighter around me. “Maybe. The view’s not bad.”
His eyes open, dark and immediately alert. They travel slowly from my face down to where the towel ends mid-thigh, then back up again. The intensity in his gaze makes me feel both exposed and powerful.
“Not bad yourself,” he murmurs, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Though I think I preferred you without the towel.”
“Did you now?” I tilt my head, letting my damp hair fall across one shoulder.
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Yes.”
I let my fingers trace the edge of the towel where it tucks between my breasts. “I should probably get dressed. I need to open the diner.”
He reaches out, his hand circling my wrist. “Not yet.”
The two simple words send a shiver down my spine. “I have responsibilities, you know.”
“So do I.” His thumb traces circles on the inside of my wrist. “Like making sure you don’t leave this bed without remembering why you came here in the first place.”
I arch an eyebrow. “I believe I remember quite clearly that I didn’t exactly come here on my own feet.”
“I didn’t see you complaining,” he says, biting his lip andletting his lazy gaze drop toward his front. His smug face makes me laugh.
“I guess it was all right.” I shrug nonchalantly as if dismissing all his attempts last night to satisfy my cravings.
“Maybe you need a reminder how reallyall rightit was.” His voice drops lower, and he tugs gently on my wrist, pulling me toward him.
I resist, just to see what he’ll do. I’ve discovered that I like rough Jericho as much as I love him as a teddy bear. “What if I don’t want a reminder?” I challenge, even as my body betrays me, leaning toward his pull.
His eyes darken. “Then I’ll have to be very persuasive.”
In one fluid motion, he pulls me onto the bed, rolling us so I’m pinned beneath him. The towel loosens, threatening to come undone completely. His weight on me is delicious, solid and warm. Something I didn’t know I’ve been missing all along.
“You’re going to make me late,” I murmur, but my hands are already sliding up his bare chest.
“The town will survive without coffee for a few extra minutes.” He lowers his head, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below my ear. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
