“That’s what it was called when you sent it to my friends and family last night.”
“It is.”
“And it’s this button?”
He chuckles. “If you don’t want to—”
I click it.
And then I close my eyes.
And I open them again.
“Wrong button,” Jonas says.
I gasp. “Oh my god, no. What did I do? Did I delete it? Was it—Jonas Rutherford, that was not funny.”
He’s laughing his little tushy off.
Right there, while I’m still sitting in his lap.
I poke him in the stomach. “Rude.”
“I think I just scored points with your brother.”
I lean back into him, watching a progress bar at the bottom of the screen that lights up occasionally with updates about where the podcast has been submitted to. Makes sense as I’m watching the wheels turn.
“I suppose that was only fair,” I murmur while I lightly run my fingers down his arm. “It’s like payback for that time I convinced my chicken to be your alarm clock.”
He laughs at that too, but he also sneaks a hand under my shirt and inches it higher and higher. “Do you know what we should do?”
“Feed the chicken?” I breathe against his neck.
His fingers reach my breast and tease it lightly over my bra. “I was thinking more like scrubbing the kitchen.”
“I hear there’s a diaper pail that might need to go out somewhere in this maze of a house.” I finish my sentence by biting his neck lightly.
He sucks in a quick breath, and a moment later, my bra is unhooked. “You give the best dirty talk,” he murmurs while he rolls one of my nipples between his finger and thumb.
Electricity jolts from my breast to my vagina. I shift in the chair so I can straddle him, feeling his erection already hard and thick between my thighs. “If you like that, wait until you hear me talk about spreadsheets.”
My favorite thing about Jonas?
Every time he turns me on, he makes me smile too. I’m not a burden. I’m not a big dork. I’m not crazy.
I’m justloved.
Andhappy.
I’m arching into his hand as he teases my nipple, his other hand hooked around the back of my head, fingers threadedthrough my hair while he pulls me close for a soft kiss. “I can listen to you talk about anything.”
“Even when I talk about how much I want to strip you out of your shirt and lick you from your shoulders down to your thick, hard, delicious—”
“Oh my god,you did it!” Keisha squeals behind us. “You put it out for the world to hear!”
I squeak and jerk in the seat, making it spin. Jonas reaches for the desk to steady us, his other hand leaving my breast to wrap around me and hold me tight.
“Exhibit A inreasons why your wife told you to give them an hour before doing this—you’re interrupting something, Keisha,” Millie says dryly. “Excuse us. We’ll go. Carry on doing—ew.”
