As soon as the lock sprang the door open, the smell of pine hit him. Thank God it had been Marisol’s on-week – every other Friday she and her workers descended on his studio and scrubbed every inch. Crisp sheets replaced the tangled mess he’d left at the end of the bed, and hallelujah, the toilet seat would be down.
“You’re freezing. Here.” He steered her toward the bathroom, pulling clean towels from the hall closet on the way. “You’ll love my shower,” he assured her. “It’s the best-kept secret in New York.”
She gaped at the full shelves of his closet. With its excess, he felt the need to explain.
“My mom is the Costco Queen of the Garden State. Jewish mothers, amiright?” His had the soul of a doomsday prepper: bringing him everything from brisket to backup batteries – and at least ten new toothbrushes the last time she visited. “Help yourself to anything.”
She turned to face him. “It’s almost one o’clock in the morning. He hasn’t responded to my last text.”
“Then maybe he’s realizing his plan fell apart.” Jonah put his hands on her shoulders in a way he hoped was steadying to her, not seductive. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re here. With me. Safe.”
It wasn’t until he heard the shower turn on that he let himself finally exhale. Triple-locked the door. And poured himself a shot of whiskey. Intense.
That’s what the entire night was.
By habit, he reached for the TV remote. Then thought better of it. That’s all he’d need: having Tzipi walk in to find him bingeing Room to Bloom on a Friday night. Well technically, Saturday morning.
He kicked off his shoes, wrestled the bowtie free from his neck, and tossed his dress shirt onto the back of the leather recliner. Then he eased himself into it and closed his eyes.
Now to figure out how to un-sign Kara’s name from those documents. Without getting Tzipi or himself thrown in jail.
The next thing he knew, grown-up Rosie Bloom was climbing into his lap and wrapping GiGi’s afghan over them both. He’d fallen asleep, and was currently waking to the best dream ever. Her skin felt as soft as the ancient Rutgers T-shirt she wore, faded from a decade of washing.
“What took you so long?”
She laughed at his murmured echo of her earlier words to him, from the buffet line. Well, meant for Max, but they’d spoken to some place deep in his soul. Landed and settled there, just as she was settling onto his lap, bare knees wedging perfectly in the space between the overstuffed arms of the recliner and his splayed legs.
His fingers ghosted up the backs of her thighs, until they met the hem of his boxers she’d borrowed. He bet they looked fucking great on her, but he wasn’t about to give up his current view; the long column of her neck as she leaned to meet his kisses along it.
“Jonah…” She sighed his name, and he realized it was the first time he’d heard her say it all evening. Damn worth the wait.
Fancy nails raked his sideburns and into his curls as his tongue reached her ear. Her tiny mewl when his teeth nipped her lobe was like a prize won. “I was dreaming of you,” he barely breathed into the shell of her ear. Tzipi ground against him with a swivel of her hips. He grabbed her waist to keep her right there and sought out her mouth. She tasted like his toothpaste. Like warmth. Like he’d imagined.
Man, he loved her hands, boldly exploring. On his neck, down his chest, now that it was in a V-neck undershirt. Gripping his wrists, then running up to his biceps, fingers tracing where the fabric strained against them.
“On or off?” he whispered into her kiss, and her smile was her answer. She helped him struggle out of the thin white tee. His bare pecs felt branded by her touch, then his abs. “They’re there,” he joked. “Under that six pack of kugel ravioli.”
He could practically span her waist, he noticed, as his thumbs gently circled the dip of her navel through that Rutgers shirt. As much as he wanted her in his clothes, he wanted them off her, too. But he was willing to wait to see how far Tzipi wanted the night to go.
He didn’t have to wait long, as she covered his bear paws with her delicate hands and guided them right up to her breasts, loose and lovely underneath the Scarlet Knights logo. His dick throbbed happily in his tuxedo pants; she had to be feeling it through those thin boxers.
All it took was a tiny shift of her hips. She slid along the ridge of him, and he swallowed a string of the filthiest curse words rising. Damp, hot, slick – he could feel her, too. Notched perfectly against him.
She whimpered against his mouth when his thumbs grazed her nipples, breaking the kiss to arch and allow herself to be worshipped. Wordlessly lifting the shirt up and over her head, hair cascading over both their shoulders. His lips were on her in an instant, tonguing up her belly, kissing the curves, lavishing attention on one side first, then equally on the other. She pebbled up under the pressure as he sucked her slowly, his hands gripping the globes of her ass.
She trembled above him, gazing down. Her eyelids, now scrubbed free of all that makeup, fluttered. His cock, his hands, his mouth wanted her spread eagle on his bed. Before they broke the ancient E-Z Boy.
“If you’re impressed with my moves, wait until you see this.”
He grappled with the button on the side of the lounger, and it began to reverse course from its inclined position. “That’s right…Sunday-driver slow and seductive.”
Tzipi giggled as it passed the level setting and began to slowly, slowly lift them up and out, until Jonah was standing. One strong arm under her bottom and her legs clamped around his waist. Her chest against his; hot skin pressed to hot skin.
“I was gonna offer you the bedroom and sleep on the couch, but…my bedroom is the living room. And my couch is the bed.”
He dropped them both onto the open futon. Facing each other, learning each other’s bodies from this new position.
“Well,” she innocently shrugged, fingers flirting along his hair on his chest. “Bodyguards are supposed to be within six paces at all times.”
