A place to begin, I remind myself. It’s only a place to begin.
I continue, “Right before they got married, I told Chloe what kind of man she was marrying. She didn’t believe me. Ever since then, she’s thought I was a liar, or jealous of her, or just plain crazy—I don’t know. Anthony has fed her resentment, of course. Mom took Chloe’s side.”
“That’s not easy,” Jonah says. I can tell he senses there’s more, but maybe he thinks he’s pushed enough for now. “Were you two ever close?”
“When I was little, I thought Chloe hung the moon.” To my surprise, I have to swallow a lump in my throat. “She was so grown-up, and glamorous. So beautiful. You saw for yourself.”
“I didn’t notice.”
Most guys would be flattering me. Jonah means it.
He hesitates, as if he doesn’t know what to say next, but finally comes out with, “Sibling relationships are tough. I get along with my sisters and my brother, but—let’s call it a negotiated peace.”
Jonah knows I read the article online; there’s no point in pretending I don’t know a few basic facts about his family. “I thought you only had one sister.”
“Maddox and Elise are technically my stepfather’s children, but he married my mother when I was very young. Elise and I barely remember life without each other. Maddox and my biological sister, Rebecca, are even younger—as far as they’re concerned, there was never a time when we weren’t a family. We all consider ourselves brothers and sisters, close as blood, full stop.”
That sounds like loyalty. Like love. “Then what’s the negotiation about?”
He stares out the window at the busy street, unwilling or unable to meet my eyes. “As you know—as half the damned country knows—our parents’ relationship is troubled in the extreme. My mother isn’t well. The four of us don’t agree on how to handle that. However, we all understand there’s no easy answer.”
“It’s good that you don’t blame each other,” I say softly. “Chloe and I do, sometimes. I wish we didn’t.”
Jonah nods and turns back to me. “Maybe we get better at this over time.”
“Knowing people? Or loving them?”
“Both.” His hand covers mine, and we fall into a comfortable silence.
Yet I cannot forget how much more I have to tell. How many secrets I still keep. Even today, when Jonah has traveled here to stand by me—when we’ve agreed to learn how to love each other—I still can’t bring myself to tell him the truth.
My secrecy grows heavier during the evening. Darkens.
Changes shape.
“You’re sure you wouldn’t rather sleep at home?” Jonah asks as I park my car in front of the B&B.
“No. I’d rather be with you.”
He opens the front door with a heavy brass key, and we climb the carpeted stairs quickly, hoping not to attract attention from either the hosts or other guests. Neither of us feels like making small talk about the city for another thirty minutes.
The bedroom here is done in grand style—an enormous four-poster bed carved out of wood polished until it gleams, a marble-fronted fireplace, and an armoire so tall it nearly reaches the twelve-foot ceiling. Lace curtains cover the window, so we’re hidden away from the rest of the world. Good.
Jonah puts my bag beside the armoire. “You didn’t have this much stuff last night. Did you find some things at home?”
I nod absently as I step out of my shoes. Then I slowly pull off my cardigan and unzip my dress, which crumples to the floor. As soon as it’s off, I look Jonah straight in the eye as I begin to unhook my bra.
He takes two steps toward me and kisses me, long and deep. As I shrug my bra off my arms, his hands find my breasts. His touch is gentle. Too gentle.
“We would have to be quiet,” I whisper against his lips. “But we can still play.”
Jonah goes still. At first I think he’s already there with me, preparing to unleash his darker side. Then I recognize the confusion in his gray eyes . . . the hurt.
Tonight he didn’t want to play. He wanted to make love.
I remember how he was in Scotland, the strange distance between us when I insisted on bringing my fantasy into our bed there. He obliged me, even though I could tell he wanted something else from me. Jonah doesn’t need this fantasy the way I do.
But I do. Right now I need it worse than ever. I don’t know why, and I don’t care. I just want Jonah to take me without mercy.
“Come on,” I whisper as I slide my hands under his shirt. “Last night we were interrupted. Don’t you want to pick up where we left off?”
That makes him smile—the dangerous smile that makes me hot in an instant. “I knew you wanted it.”
Then he shoves me onto the bed, hard.