“There was this guy. It was at a party. He was cute and flirting pretty hard. We were both a little tipsy. I wasn’t drunk. Liquid courage, you know?”
I have a bad feeling about this. Alcohol and consent rarely go together. “Jonah…” But he must see something in my face because he shakes his head.
“Nothing like that. I just knew what I wanted, so when he asked what I liked, I told him.”
Oh. “I’m guessing he wasn’t into it.”
“The look on his face.” He snorts. “It was almost funny.”
I doubt that. I take his hand and squeeze. “What happened?”
“Since his question was about whether I wanted to top, things ended pretty quickly.”
“What did he say to you?” I try to soften my voice, but it’s still hard.
He shrugs. “It wasn’t his words but how he said them. Like I was a freak or something.”
“Come here.” I wrap my arms around him. “There’s nothing wrong with liking kink. That guy is a fucking asswipe.”
“My brain knows that. But the rest of me? Not so sure.”
I catch his gaze. “Do you think I’m a freak?”
“No. You’re…amazing.”
My heart melts at that. “Then tell that voice in your head to fuck off. Now, enough about that jerkwad, unless you need to talk about him some more?”
He shakes his head. “Him? No. It wasn’t traumatizing or anything. After that I was just more careful about who I told—which means no one else knew. And then it was a matter of waiting.”
“What were you waiting for?”
He laughs. “I was waiting for you.”
“I call bullshit. You hated me.”
He places his hand on my non-injured cheek, and I lean into his touch. “Not you exactly. But someone who likes what I like. Someone who accepts me.” He swallows. “Wants me.”
I crash our mouths together. We still need to talk about consent and rules and safewords, and all that. But for now—this minute—I have one goal.
Erase the doubt from his eyes by showing Jonah how much I want him.
I can tell the moment he gets out of his head and lets his body talk for him. He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around him. We continue kissing as he moves… Is he going to slam me against the wall? Yes, please.
But his destination is much better as he drops me on the bed and then covers my body with his.
“Jonah—oh God—wait.”
He pulls back, searching my face. “Did you change your mind?”
“No.” I brush my thumb over the stubble on his cheek, trying to catch my breath and my scattered thoughts. “But we had a deal.”
His brows scrunch together. “A deal?”
“You’re sober, Jonah. Ask me.”
“Vivian?” He bites his lip, almost shyly. “Will you teach me?”
“Teach you what, doll?”
This smile is bright, and it banishes all my doubts. “Teach me how to boss you around.”
