Stunned into paralysis, I let his words take root.
“How’s that possible? Were you not listening when I told you my mom’s a hooker and my dad’s a pimp?” I’m processing his reaction aloud and can’t seem to stop. “Candy was right. I’m a grease monkey, and, considering what my parents do for a living, I’m trash. I’m inexperienced, young, and a virgin.”
Good job, Raven. Talk him out of liking you. Why don’t you go ahead and make him a list of all your unlovable qualities.
It happened so fast I barely registered the movement. Jonah hauled me up the length of his body and sat me face to face with him, straddling his hips. My face dwarfed by his big hands, he holds me until I meet his eyes.
“Don’t ever speak about yourself like that again.” His deep, firm command makes me drop my eyes. “Look at me, Raven.” I do as I’m told. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known. You’re kind, smart, funny, gracious . . . hell, you even laugh at Blake’s jokes. I want you. And that includes everything that makes you who you are.”
He wants me. This amazing, powerful, beautiful man wants me. Have I ever felt wanted before? A lone tear rolls down my cheek. His words are a warm blanket wrapped around my heart. Leaning forward, he brushes his lips across the corners of my eyes.
Will he ever understand how much his words mean to me? I’ve never felt important enough to anyone or good enough to deserve this kind of affection. Just days ago, I felt a fissure in the wall I had erected around my heart. With those simple words, he busted it down.
It’s crazy and it makes no sense, but there’s no doubt in my mind. I’m madly in love with Jonah Slade.
Nine
Jonah
I wake up with something soft and warm pressing against the length of my body. My left arm lies flat against the bed, tingling, a sensation like tiny ants tunneling through my veins. My right arm is comfortable and pressed directly against the soft heat. Taking a deep breath, I smell the faint pear fragrance and smile. Raven.
So this is what it feels like to sleep with someone. Her back pressed to my front, I nestle my face into the silky waves of her hair and pull her body deeper into mine. What the h . . .? I flex my hand against a heavy weight in my palm. The feeling registers, immediately making my body tense.
Ah, hell.
Sometime in the night, I shoved my hand up her shirt and am now cupping her left breast. All I need is for her to wake up to me perving out on her in her sleep. I slip my hand slowly from her chest. My fingers skate down the soft skin of her stomach and settle there. Her legs slide against mine as I draw lazy circles at her belly button.
She moans and presses her bottom into my groin in a tiny stretch. I bite back my groan at the feel of her round ass against my throbbing crotch. I don’t think I’ve ever had a hard-on for this long.
Last night, after Raven confessed her virginity, there was no way I could make out with her. At least, not the way I wanted to. The tears in her eyes as she ripped herself apart verbally sealed it for me. I needed her to know that I respect her and that she’s more than a shallow one night. We’d kiss during commercials, and at times I thought I could have gotten away with more, but last night was about getting her to see me differently. It was about getting her to trust me with more than her painful family history, with her body as well. And to do that, I had to hold back my appetite for her. Way back.
Besides, holding her against my side with her head on my chest while she watched Overhaulin’ was entertaining as hell. She went back and forth between mumbling to herself and giving me a detailed history of Ford Motor Company. She’d talk to the television, making her suggestions as to what should be done, and made it clear when she disagreed. I enjoyed watching her as much as I did the show. And the show was cool as shit.
I introduced her to the DVR, showing her how to record the entire season so she can watch them whenever she wants. She rewarded me with a shining smile that I felt in my toes. Her sparkling eyes lit up like I’d just given her keys to a Lamborghini. The fact that I could make her light up like that filled me with more pride than winning my first fight. I spent the rest of the night figuring out ways to earn that smile again.
“That tickles,” she whispers with a giggle as she stills my hand at her stomach.
“Good morning.” I push my luck and glide my hand up her body to her rib cage just shy of the underside of her breast.
A sharp intake of air and she relaxes.
“How did you sleep?”
“Mmm, really good.” She rolls over to face me.
I prop up on my elbow, my head in my hand, and run my fingers down her ribs to where the sheet lies at her waist and back again.
She touches my cheek with a barely-there brush of her fingertips. “I like these,” she whispers, tracing my dimples.
I roll my eyes.
“What? They’re cute.”
She did not just say that.