He smiled sadly. "Anytime."
"Do you want me to go now?" I asked, feeling uncertain. "Now that I've drenched your shirt and neck?"
Johnny shook his head and repeated those same words from earlier, "I want you to stay with me."
"You do?" I sniffled, tightening my hold on his neck.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do."
"Okay," I whispered, heart racing violently.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked then, blue eyes burning holes in mine.
I quickly shook my head, knowing that I wanted to block it all out and concentrate on the one good thing in my life.
Him.
Johnny eyed me warily. "You're sure?"
"I want to forget about it," I confessed. "I don’t even want to think about it. Not at all… at least until I have to go home and face it."
"If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do," Johnny replied huskily.
I sagged in relief.
This boy.
God.
"Are you hungry?" he offered then, releasing my hips, and removing the comforting feeling of his hands on my skin.
My stomach growled at his offer as I reluctantly climbed off his lap.
"I'll take that as a yes," Johnny said with a small chuckle.
Shaking his head, he stood up and helped Sookie off the bed before turning to smile down at me. "Come on, Shannon like the river." He inclined his head towards the door. "Let me feed you."
On shaky legs, I trailed after Johnny and Sookie, wandering down the long hallway to the ginormous staircase.
I had to fight the smile threatening to break free when Johnny stopped at the top of the staircase to scoop up Sookie and then proceeded to carry the huge, 80lb minimum Labrador down the stairs like she was a baby cradled in his arms.
Smiling, I followed after them.
"Arthritis," he explained in an embarrassed tone when he caught me staring. "Old age." He set her down carefully when he reached the ground floor and watched her waddle off down the hall before adding, "But she's young at heart."
The minute my bare feet touched the cold tiles, I yelped and jumped back onto the carpeted step.
"God," I squeaked, shivering. "The floor's so cold."
"Hang on," Johnny said and then bounded back up the staircase only to return a few minutes later holding a pair of socks.
He handed me the socks and I sat down on the step to slip them on.
"Thanks," I whispered, pulling the huge black socks on my feet.
Low and behold, they were Nike brand socks.
And not the fake ones either.
"No problem," Johnny replied, watching me. Scratching his jaw, he added, "I don’t know why I didn’t think of socks."
"It's okay," I assured him, pulling them up to my calves before standing up. "I, uh…" I shrugged helplessly and gestured to my bare legs, covered only at the thighs by his boxer shorts. "I couldn’t keep your pants up."
His lips twitched in amusement. "No?"
I shook my head, cheeks burning. "I'm too small."
"That's okay," he replied gruffly. "I like it."
"You like it?"
"I mean I –" He shook his head and exhaled a sigh. "I mean I don’t mind."
"Will your parents mind?" I tucked my hair behind my ear nervously. "I mean, they won't think…"
"No," Johnny replied but he sounded distracted.
"Are you sure?"
His gaze roamed over me then, making my skin flood with heat. "No, it's, uh, good."
My brows shot up. "Good?"
He blushed, causing me to blush a much deeper shade of red.
Oh god…
"It's just us," he added with a cough. "Ma won't be back until the morning."
"Oh, okay."
"So, what are you in the mood for?" Johnny asked, thankfully veering the subject back to food.
"I'm not fussy," I mumbled, following him down a long hallway to the door at the end.
I hovered in the doorway, admiring the beautiful, modernly designed kitchen in front of me.
It looked nothing like the rest of the house that was traditional and majestic.
"Thank god," Johnny replied, drawing my attention to where he was standing at a huge, black, marble island, checking his phone. "Because my kitchen skills are pretty fucking basic, and Gibsie cleared out the fridge earlier."
"I can cook?" I offered shyly.
"What–no," he quickly dismissed, giving me a rueful smile. "You're my guest. You're not cooking for me."
"I don’t mind," I replied.
"Well, I do," he told me as he tossed his phone on the counter and gave me his full attention. "Toasted sandwich good for you?"
I smiled brightly. "Sounds great."
"Good choice," he chuckled. "Because it was sandwiches or cereal."
"We can just have cereal," I offered. "I don’t mind."
Johnny winked and said, "We'll go hard and have both."
I didn’t protest.
I was more than happy to hoof down whatever was put in front of me.
"Do you drink tea?"
"Only by the bucketful," I replied with a smile. "Barry's Teabags with two sugars and a small drop of milk."
He chuckled. "So you're a tea girl, not coffee."
I gagged. "Ugh. I hate coffee."
Johnny grinned and pointed to the large, marble island in the middle of the kitchen.
"Sit down," he instructed as he moved to the cupboards and began to dig around. "I'll throw the sandwiches in the toaster and we can have the cereal while we're waiting."
"Thanks for this," I said quietly.
"For what?" he asked as he prepared the sandwiches in record time.
"Cooking for me," I replied, watching Johnny's back as he worked.
He was wearing a grey t-shirt and the fabric of his shirt stretched gloriously over the span of his broad back.
"I'd hardly call a ham and cheese toastie cooking for you," Johnny shot back with a wolfish grin.
"Well, no one ever cooks for me, so I appreciate it," I told him, still hovering in the doorway. "I do most of the cooking at home."
"Yeah?" He sounded surprised. "Why's that?"
"Because I'm the only girl," I mumbled. "And most of the housework falls on my shoulders."
"So?" Johnny replied, still with his back to me. "Having a vagina doesn’t automatically tie you to a cooker – or a fucking hoover." He shook his head. "Christ, if I even thought about pulling that sexist shite on my Ma, she'd cut my balls off."
"That's a healthy way to approach life," I told him, thrilled by his words.
"That's the only way to approach life," he corrected. "We're in the twenty-first century," he added. "Not the eighteen-hundreds."
He placed the sandwiches in the toaster and swung around to face me.
"You can sit down, Shannon," he said gently. "It's okay."
"Uh, okay?" Padding over to the island, I moved for one of the stools only to flame in embarrassment when I couldn’t hoist myself up.
I tried again and failed miserably.
"Is there a spring to lower this?"
I knew I was small, but this was just ridiculous.
The leather seat of the stool was grazing my ribcage.
"Huh?" Johnny called over his shoulder as he rummaged around in the fridge with a box of cereal tucked under his arm.
"The stool," I replied, red-faced. "I can't reach."
He cast a quick glance over his shoulder and smirked when he noticed my predicament.
"There was," he explained, walking over to me. He placed a box of Cheerios and a pint of milk on the island. "But Gibsie has a habit of breaking everything he touches."
Without a hint of warning, Johnny grabbed my hips and lifted me onto the stool.
"He likes to pretend he's a rocket taking off," he added, unaware of how affected I was by his touch.
Strolling over to another cupboard, he retrieved two bowls and then pulled open a drawer and grabbed two spoons.
"Fucker broke all six stools within a week of my Ma buying them." He set the spoons and bowls down on the island and smirked at me. "They're all stuck on full height."
I arched a brow. "Are you mocking me?"
Johnny grinned. "I would never." Pushing a bowl and spoon towards me, he added, "Cheerios work for a starter? I have Rice Krispies if you prefer?"
"Cheerios work."
Johnny settled down on the stool next to mine and reached for the box of cereal.
His arm brushed against mine as he poured cereals into both of our bowls and I shivered again.
"Are you cold?" he asked, turning to look at me.