Murmurs sounded throughout the bar, as most within hearing distance had stopped what they were doing to listen.
“I said,do you get it?”
A few muttered yeses and shouts returned to him, and he nodded. “Good,” he said, before sitting down and crossing his arms over his chest.
The team was staring at him, likely because he was never one to voice anything aloud, let alone make a public declaration.
The trio who had approached them slunk off into the crowd, and he finally risked looking at Ada for her reaction.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she said, her voice strained.
Jonny sighed. He was sure he was about to get a verbal lashing. “Fine,” he said. “Where?”
“Outside,” she answered, and he nodded, standing and following her out, feeling the eyes of all of his teammates on his back.
They pushed through the back door instead of the front, into the small alley. There was not much back here, but it was quiet, and at least if she was going to yell at him, no one else would hear.
He turned to her, prepared to take whatever it was she had to give him.
He couldn’t have been more surprised when she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.
Chapter Eleven
Ada didn’t know what had come over her.
When those men had approached them, their intentions clear, she had been ready to leave, to walk away from the table and go home, not wanting to draw Manchester Central into the underworld her father had led their family into.
She was glad she hadn’t left, though, for that would only have allowed them to win, even though she was mortified that they would say something here, in front of Jonny and the rest of the team.
When Jonny rose to his feet, she’d prepared to stop him—to insist this wasn’t his concern, that she didn’t need him risking trouble for her sake. Yet the quiet strength in his voice, the certainty in his stance, the protectiveness in his voice, stirred something deep within her.
She hadn’t been sure what she had meant to do when she had led him outside. All she had known was that she had restless energy simmering inside her, energy she had to do something with, or it might burst out of her.
He had been standing there in front of her, lookingprepared to take her lashing, and for what? For being the one person to stand up for her, when half of her life, her father had hidden from those coming after them, too worried about himself and his own reputation?
She couldn’t have said what had driven her to do it, but all she had known was that this energy pouring through her was fueling her to be close to him, to show him what it meant to her that he had been there for her.
Not only had she kissed him, but she had kissed himhard. With purpose.
This was nothing accidental. Not for show, not for an excuse, nor to hide from anyone.
She kissed him simply because she wanted to.
He drove her crazy, yet he was the only man to make her feel anything, to excite her for the first time in a long time.
At first, he just stood there, still, as though he was uncertain how to respond. But after a beat, just long enough that she nearly pulled away, he came to life.
He wrapped his fingers into her hair, his nails just barely scratching her head as he tilted it back, kissing her hard. He groaned into her mouth as he coaxed her lips apart, stroking her tongue. She couldn’t help but return the action, her hands wrapped in his jacket as she leaned into him, arching her back so she could be closer.
His scent, of spice and salt and football, filled her, the hot slide of his tongue setting her entire body on fire.
He kissed her with the same confidence he had shown those men, as if he knew exactly what he wanted, as if he were the one who had initiated the kiss, and she was just holding on.
Had he always smelled this good?
How many women had he kissed to make him so good at it?
And why did she actually love the way he was gripping herhair, ruining it, when she should be telling him to leave her alone?
