“Something smells awfully good.”
I turn to find Jonah strolling into to the kitchen looking like if he has to be on a phone one minute longer, he might run screaming from the apartment. “As a thank-you for letting him arrange our kitchen,” I tell him, “Will has graciously agreed to make us dinner.”
Will rolls his eyes. “Ah yes, that’s exactly how it went down. Surely, there was no Chloe saying,”—and here he attempts a falsetto—“Oh, Will. I’m so hungry and we have nothing to eat. Please feed me. Please. You don’t want us to starve, do you?”
My fiancé looks down at the lonely plate of cookies plaintively. “You ate them all, didn’t you?”
Whoops. The three that I left him didn’t quite make it back to the office.
“She did,” Will says cruelly. “She might have even licked the crumbs off the plate.”
I wander over to where Jonah’s standing and lace my fingers through his empty belt loops. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“Later,” Will stresses. “When I’m safely downstairs.”
I press a quick kiss against Jonah’s mouth. “He made pancakes this morning for your brother and we weren’t invited.”
I love that Jonah actually pretends to look wounded at this.
But Will rolls his eyes again. His sadness retreats, at least for the time being.
Later that night, I wander out on the balcony just outside our bedroom. Karnach, the rotunda in the middle of Annar that houses the Council, is lit up like a fairy tale before me. I lean against the rails and stare out at it, marveling over how, no matter how many times I see this sight, I’m always dazzled.
“Whatcha doing?”
Jonah’s come to join me outside, looking exhausted, which makes sense; after dinner, he’d been called into yet another videoconference. I worry about this stress load, and of how the Council asks so much of him at just twenty years of age. Most of the kids our age we went to high school with are probably at college right now, living it up. They’ve chosen their career paths and are working toward them; perhaps they’re even still undecided. They’re most likely dabbling with part-time jobs and going to parties and clubs with their friends. They’re not being asked to oversee the welfare of quadrillions of people on seven different planes of existence. I envy them these years, as they get to choose their paths.
Jonah and I will never get to choose what our careers will be. We’ll never get to choose not to be on the Council; I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. And now here he is, dog-tired after twelve good hours of meetings, when I’m sure so many other twenty-year-olds are playing video games and drinking beer with their buddies. I think that’s part of what I love most about him, though. Jonah is one of the strongest, best people I know.
I motion him to join me at the railing. “Just thinking.”
He tucks wispy hairs behind both my ears. “About?”
“About how glad I am to be here with you.”
Parts of me go liquid and golden and warm when his dimple appears. “Yeah?”
I tug him closer. “Yeah.”
As the mild breezes gracing Annar’s gorgeous summer nights lately blow around us and stars wink in the inky black sky above, our mouths meet, hot and lovely. His fingers tangle in my hair, twisting gently; mine run down his arms to the waistband of his shorts, and then lower still to dip below the band and trace light lines meant to serve as promises.
He pushes me against the railing, hips blocking me in as he deepens the kiss. I lose myself in this, in him and how my body is floating and burning and aching all at once. I tug his shirt up; his lips leave mine long enough for the t-shirt to whisper off. And then they’re on my neck and my head falls back, and I can’t help wonder if those stars above could be from him.
My hand trails down to cup him; I love that he’s already hard, that I affect him just as strongly as he does me. Matching moans come from both of us as I squeeze gently but firmly and he nips my neck.
I build us an invisible screen out here on the patio, one that allows us to see out but no one to see in. And then I make us a lovely, wide couch.
My hands wander across his bare chest; even now, even after all these years, he takes my breath away. I push against his golden skin, push him away from the railing, toward the couch. His mouth is on mine once more, and my thoughts scatter so freely in these winds that we lose our way for several long, hot minutes. But eventually, I get him right where I want him.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, and goose bumps rise and fall all over my arms on this sultry night. But I shake my head, wagging a finger at him. Soon, but not quite yet.
An amused eyebrow rises as he leans back on the soft cushions, propped up on his arms.