Jon gave another squeeze. “I’m not giving up, baby. When you talk to Martha tomorrow, you tell her we won’t give up.” He stopped at the first red light and leaned sideways enough to bring her knuckles to his lips. “I’ll rip this cartel out of our community by the fucking root. If they think they can take the whole west coast, they’re in for a big goddamn surprise.”
A smile seeped into Jenna’s voice. “You curse way more than I remember, you know.”
Jon couldn’t help the chuckle. “Really? Thought I was editing pretty well.”
“How’s your leg?”
Jenna smiled at her overprotective second-time boyfriend.We might be a little too old for those words, though.“My leg is fine,” she said, wiggling her bare toes for emphasis. “You heard Nurse Lynnette, the cut was shallow. It won’t even scar.”
Jon hooked his hand around her ankle and swung her leg into his lap, then swiftly—but gently—pushed up her ruined pantleg until it bunched below her knee. His fingers brushed over her skin and Jenna fought to hold still.
“What are you doing?”
He leaned to the side, rolled her leg only slightly, and replied, “Inspecting.”
“You’re impossible.” But it warmed her heart that he did it, that he was so insistent on it.
Jon released a quiet breath and settled one hand over the top of her foot. “Kick me out.”
Jenna blinked. “What?”
He locked his dark stare on her. “Kick me out, Jen. Tell me to sleep in my truck, or on the roof, or any-damn-where that isn’t here.”
She had watched him say all the words, and still they made no sense. She shook her head. “Why would I do that?”On the roof? He wouldn’t…“Jon—”
He moved her foot from his thigh and twisted himself around so his knees were balanced between her extended leg and the edge of the couch. In that one move, he was leaning over her,well inside her personal space, and her heart rate tripled with a dangerous anticipation as he reached out to latch onto the back and armrest on either side of her. His voice was rougher than she could remember hearing it when he spoke again, his stare unwavering. “Because I’m not gentlemanly enough to sleep anywhere other than in bed with you if I stay.”
Sweet Jesus.It was a damn good thing she was already sitting, but she hadn’t realized they’d jumped straight into the heart of summer. She was wearing far too much fabric.
Jenna licked her lips as she attempted to wrangle her own response.
He’d called her his multiple times that day, and each time, it had sent her heart racing. She was well past denying that she was invested in giving them another shot, but she hadn’t been with a man in years. She hadn’t dated in even longer. She didn’t know the rules anymore. Was it too soon?
Did that matter if she’d technically done most everything with him before?
Does it matter if I just really want to?
Jon was her safe place. He’d always been her safe place. And he was home, alive, and still looking at her with a hunger she could feel in her soul. That was what mattered.
Jenna smoothed her hands up his chest, her fingers brushing over what she assumed to be the dog tags she’d not actually seen, attached to the chain she had glimpsed around his neck. When she had hold of his jaw, his warm skin and a day’s worth of stubble scraping her palms, she said, “Maybe I want you to stay.”
His chest heaved and he released the arm of the couch, bringing that hand up to the nape of her neck as he dropped down and crushed his lips to hers. His tongue pushed into her mouth as her arms curled around his neck, her fingers stretching into his short-cut hair. He pulled a sound of appreciation out of her chest as he sucked on her tongue. His kiss was hard,demanding and devouring all at once, and then he tore his lips away and moved down her jaw.
Jenna gasped, feeling flushed and increasingly needy. “Jon,” she said on a moan as he licked a path down her neck.
He nipped at her skin. “That’s right, baby. I’m home now, and I’m all yours.” He pushed up abruptly, reached back, and peeled his shirt off.
It fell somewhere to the floor, but Jenna hardly cared. She was far too busy drinking in the way his body had matured. The lean, respectable form she’d found appealing as a teenager had been replaced with a grown man’s hard, defined muscle that had her mouth watering. The slanted lettering of the tattoo she’d seen before wound around his bicep, a pair of silver dog tags hung on a silver chain from his neck, and a faint dusting of dark hair covered the center portion of his chest, trailing down to the suddenly visible V at his hips. Over his left pec, in broken block lettering, the initials USMC were inked into his skin, followed by the numbers 0321 in the same lettering. Directly underneath that, in smaller, slanted ink were more numbers—numbers Jenna recognized as the years Jon had joined, and the current year. His length of service.
Without thought, she moved a hand to trace her fingers over the numbers. The skin surrounding the ink representing the current year wasn’t red or swollen, so he’d obviously gotten that tattoo before returning to town.
Jon cupped the back of her hand, holding her palm to his chest. “I’m home now,” he repeated, his tone softer. He dragged her hand over his heart. “And I’m gonna make us work. I won’t let you go this time.”
Jenna swallowed hard, confused emotion rushing through her. She couldn’t think about sex and romance at the same time, dammit. Not while he was shirtless and still kneeling between her legs. “Jon.” She licked her lips. “Less talking, more kissing.”
His grin seared her. “Yes, ma’am.” He released her hand, slipped his beneath her shirt, and swept hers over her head before she could second-guess the angle of her body. Which was not nearly the most flattering. Her belly rolls would absolutely be emphasized in their current position.
She opened her mouth to suggest he turn the lights off, or that they move to the bedroom, and Jon let out a low groan.
