Chapter Fifteen
Vivian
I normally sleep on my left side. That’s the only reason I’m facing the bathroom. It has nothing to do with Jonah being in there for the last twenty minutes.
When I’d finished my shower, he’d given me attitude about how long I’d taken that had sounded almost like teasing. But that’s way too gentle a tone to ascribe to Jonah. And the way he looked at me? I must have imagined it because I looked terrible.
I hate going to bed with wet hair, so I usually shower in the mornings. But tonight, I needed it. Needed to wash off the day. Needed time to myself. Which meant I had to dry my hair. It’s a poofy mess. My face is devoid of makeup and every blemish stands out. I almost covered my face with my charcoal mask, but fuck it. This is who I am. I don’t care what Jonah thinks.
But that look…like he wanted something. Like he wanted…me.
I shut my eyes, willing myself to sleep. But I can’t. I’m too keyed up.
The bathroom door opens, and Jonah steps out of the steam like Beyoncé making an entrance. He drags his hand through hiswet hair. His face is open, for once. But that’s not what catches my attention. He’s wearing shorts and nothing else, putting his broad chest on display. Drops of water drip over his impressive pecs, and I hold back a whimper.
He brushes the water away with his hand. Fuck. Does he need help? I volunteer as tribute. His nipples pebble in the cool air of the room. And suddenly, I don’t mind the cold.
He glances my way, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping he didn’t see me staring. My heart beats wildly and my cock pulses. I don’t dare move.
“Vivian? Are you still awake?”
“No.”
He snorts. I can feel him standing there. Watching me. Why doesn’t he go to bed?
“Is it too cold in here for you?”
I want to snap at him to stop it. I don’t need his concern. It’s confusing. And sweet. So, so sweet. “I’m fine.”
He sighs. “Really, Vivian. I can turn it down.”
I wait for my usual irritation over Jonah trying to take care of me when I don’t need it. But it’s not there. Instead, there’s a warmth pressing against my breastbone. For one reckless moment, I almost confess. Would it shock him to know how much I want to touch him? Lick him? Probably. And it would be yet another thing Jonah could use against me.
No thanks.
“Go to bed, Jonah.” And for some reason, it doesn’t come out as snippy as I want. There’s a note of fondness that I didn’t intend to add.
He slips into bed. “Goodnight, Vivian.”
My chest aches as I snuggle into my blankets. “Goodnight, Jonah.”
In the morning, I’m groggy. Did I sleep at all? It doesn’t feel like it. I’m tired and on edge.
Something is shifting between Jonah and me, and I don’t like it. I definitely don’t know how to handle it. What if it’s my imagination? What if I’m the only one feeling this way?
Which is enough of a reason to not say anything.
But it’s not long before Jonah reacts to my one-word answers. “Did I do something?”
I’m in the bathroom, shoving my products in my bag. Jonah stands framed in the doorway, taking up the entire space. I shake my head, more at my own thoughts than him.
“You’re acting weird. If I did something to upset you?—”
“Seriously?” I laugh. “You live to upset me.”
He shrugs. Jesus. What is happening here?
I give him a smile. “I’m fine, Jonah.”
