“Yes.” Then his expression softens slightly, becomes less savage, more . . . human. “Well, Patagonia mostly. I was based in Punta Arenas, Chile. But from there I was able to charter a plane south for some flyover photography.”
“Of Antarctica.”
Jonah smiles, and it’s not a smirk this time. “We discovered a dormant volcano beneath the Antarctic ice sheet a couple of years ago. I’m a research professor—I only teach a class once every two years or so. Mostly I analyze findings from all around the world, and sometimes I collect data myself. Like any other scientist. My data happens to be found near fault lines and volcanoes.”
The one place in the entire world that’s completely off the grid: That’s where he was. I tuck another loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I have to admit, that’s . . . a pretty solid excuse.”
He leans against the nearby brick wall as he studies me. After a long moment he says, “I should have let you know.”
“No, no, you’re right. I’m not your girlfriend; you’re not my boyfriend. You don’t owe me explanations.”
“No, I don’t. But I owe it to you to protect you. After that night, you were vulnerable. I should’ve realized.”
Just like that, Jonah’s no longer the remote figure I imagined rejecting me with contempt. He’s once again the man who asked how to make me feel safe, the one who brought me a glass of water afterward and kissed me as tenderly as any man ever has. I say, “You didn’t abuse my trust. We had—a failure of communication.”
“We’ll have to do better,” Jonah says. The smirk returns. “Besides, I had no idea you’d want to go again so soon. That e-mail came not even seventy-two hours after I left you.”
The wounds to my pride are still healing, so I’m not going to let him get away with that so easily. I lift my chin. “Didn’t you want it too?”
He laughs, low and rough. It’s just the way he laughed when he was inside me, glorying in having thrown me down. Wetness wells between my legs, and I want him to touch me so badly it makes me weak.
“I thought about you every night,” Jonah murmurs. “Most of the days. I dream about tearing that dress off your body. When I close my eyes I see you the way you were afterward. Wrecked. And what I want more than anything else is to wreck you all over again.”
So much for Jonah “having limits.”
Maybe I should feel powerful at this moment, when I realize that I affect him as much as he intoxicates me. Instead it’s all I can do to keep from trembling. I brace my hand against the fence behind me, the one that marks the boundary between this loud, brightly lit place and the darker alleys of the city beyond.
This is when a particularly enterprising member of the waitstaff appears. “What will you two be having tonight?”
“Whatever the lady wants.” Jonah’s eyes meet mine as he smiles. “It’s up to her.”
Not fair, Jonah. I manage to answer, “We’re still making up our minds.”
Within another second we’re alone again, and Jonah raises an eyebrow. “That just means he’s going to come back.”
“If I told him we weren’t drinking tonight, he’d have asked us to leave.” Sometimes it’s hard to remember this is actually a place of business, not just a venue for indecent proposals.
“Maybe we should leave,” Jonah murmurs. “Don’t we have better things to do?”
Tonight? Now? He can’t mean that. We’re supposed to plan these nights in advance. Sane and safe.
But what’s happening between us—that’s not safe at all.
“We—we can’t,” I manage to say. “I want us to choose a night, a time, but not now—”
“What if I made it now?”
Jonah steps forward. With one hand he grips my chin, holding my face still as he leans closer. He’s so tall that he seems to loom over me; the rest of the noise around us seems to fade away.
Yet as his eyes meet mine, I know . . . if I say the word silver, this will end in an instant.
I don’t say it.
“I could back you into that alleyway,” he whispers. “Just a few feet away. Five steps and we’d be in the dark, where nobody could see you, and nobody could stop me.”
“I’d scream.”
Jonah’s eyes darken. He likes it when I play along. “I wouldn’t let you,” he says, as two of his fingers slide up to cover my lips. “I could cover your mouth while I pinned you against the wall. That would leave me one hand free. So I could reach up under that little dress of yours. Pull your panties down.”
I’m completely caught in the spell he’s weaving with his words. The low tone of his voice is like a hypnotic, drugging me. “I’d be so scared,” I whisper. My lips brush against his fingers. “Too scared to scream, or to fight.”
He breathes out sharply, as though I’d struck him. So dirty talk turns him on too. “I’d be able to get my cock out. It’s already so hard for you. All I’d have to do is push your thighs apart—lift one leg up—”
“I couldn’t stop you.”
“But you’d push back.”
“I would. But I wouldn’t be strong enough to get away. I’d be helpless.”
“And you’d be pushing against me the whole time I fucked you.”