The bowl of strawberries between the candles on the sideboard under the painting.
It doesn’t matterwhoset up my bedroom.
What matters is that Jonas is snaking both of his arms around my belly as he buries his nose in my hair. “But you’re still the most beautiful part of all,” he whispers.
My eyes sting.
People don’t call mebeautiful. Chandler used to tell me he loved medespitemy ears and nose. I went on three dates with someone in college who told me my personality made up for my face, but not enough. And that’s why he dumped me.
Laney and Sabrina insist I’m beautiful, but they have to.
They’re my best friends.
They don’t see the flaws.
When Jonas says it?
When the world’s most beautiful man tells you thatyou’rebeautiful, when you know he could’ve simply demanded a paternity test and sent his lawyers after you to get visitation rights with his son, whenyou’rethe most difficult part of this equation that’s turned his life upside down, what reason do you have left to doubt him?
I turn in his arms to face him, looping mine around his neck, and pull him along as I step backwards into my bedroom.
Staring into those beautiful brown eyes that are trained on me like he’s memorizing this moment, memorizingme, drowning inme.
“Shut the door,” I whisper.
He kicks it softly shut with one foot. “When you crawled under that table,” he starts, and I can’t help it.
I smile.
A smile so big it instantly hurts my cheeks. “When I crawled under that table?” I prompt.
“I thought you were going to have a pre-dinner snack.”
“And were you ready for me to eat you?”
His pupils dilate, making his eyes dark as night. And his voice—his voice is dark as night too. “Youbreatheand you turn me on, Emma. When I thought you were going to suck on my cock? Yeah. Yeah, I was ready. Even though I don’t think I’ve earned that yet.”
The implication that’s been hanging between us all evening already had my panties wet. The idea of going down on Jonas?
Yes.
Yes.
It’s not enough to kiss him. It’s not enough to touch him. It’s not enough to dry hump him in a hot tub or anywhere else.
I want to lick him from head to toe.
I do. I can’t help it, and I’m tired of trying to fight it.
But hearing him say he wants me to suck his cock?
There’s now a complete and total flood happening between my thighs. It’s potent enough that I can smell myself, and I have no doubt he can too.
“What do you think you have to do to earn it?” Is thatmyvoice? Breathy and needy and seductive?
The things this man brings out in me…
“Be here,” he says without hesitation. “Put you first. Make you come first. Always. Every time.Multipletimes. Be an equal partner. Make up for everything I’ve missed. Cook. Clean. Laundry. Fix things. Make you laugh. Hold you when you cry. Listen when you need to vent. Anything. Everything. All of the things that I—that I should’ve been here—”
