“They’re 500 dollars.”
“Make that two pair in every color.”
His expression is serious, and I burst into laughter. All of the stress and pressure I’d been feeling from earlier dissolve to a distant memory.
With a small effort, Jonah lifts me from the counter and places me on my wobbly legs. I look down and notice his pants are still around his ankles. He kicks them off and kneels in front of me. One by one, he slips off my shoes so that we’re both standing naked.
He pulls me into his arms. “You doing better?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle, remembering the state Jonah found me in earlier. “Guess I just needed the release.”
His body shakes with silent laughter. What is it with his sense of humor? I pull back enough to show him my confusion.
“Guess you got your release . . . twice.”
“Jonah!” I slap his arm and my face flames.
“Ow!” His humor fades and something serious works behind his eyes. “I Hhate seeing you like that.”
“It’s okay—”
“No. It’s not. I can’t wait for this shit to be over. For you to be free of . . .”
I rest my cheek against his chest and sigh. “Me too.”
He reaches over and flips on the shower. The room fills with steam. “Come on. I’ll get you all cleaned up. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“Big day?”
His eyebrows hit his hairline.
My hand covers my mouth as realization dawns.
Tomorrow I meet his mom.
Twenty-six
Jonah
“I think I might puke.” Raven rubs her stomach, a grimace etched into her gorgeous face. She’s made herself sick worrying about meeting my mom. I couldn’t even get her to eat breakfast.
I wonder if any of her nerves this morning are leftover from her breakdown last night. I’d never seen a person go from rat-shit mad to completely unglued. When I overheard her laughing in the bathroom, I realized she’d reached her breaking point. I knew I needed to bring her back—to pull her from her hysterics and place her gently back into her skin.
Her skin.
My dick twitches at the memory of her slowly sliding off that dress, each sliver of delicate flesh, beckoning for my touch—the way her body responded immediately to the slightest brush of my fingers, opening to my unspoken request. Erotic flashes of her legs wrapped around my body flood my mind. Heat radiates from the red marks on my back left by her shoes. Watching the reflection of our bodies tangled together is forever branded into my memory.
A groan bubbles up from my throat, and Raven turns her attention toward me with narrowed eyes, throwing me from my sexy daydream. Her eyes get big at the sound of a mumbled voice over the airport’s loudspeaker.
“What’d he say? Was that it? Did they just announce her flight? I think that’s her flight,” she says, her eyes dart around the baggage claim carousel where we’ve been waiting for the last fifteen minutes.
Raven bounces on her toes like a kid who has to pee. My lips pull up. “Maybe you shouldn’t have had that fourth cup of coffee this morning.”
“She’s not going to like me. She probably wants you with some sweet, homey girl who, you know, bakes or loves scrapbooking, not a car mechanic who can’t even microwave popcorn.” She looks around like she’s mapping out an escape.
“You kick ass with a microwave, baby. Don’t sell yourself short.”
She glares at me, but her mouth ticks with the shadow of a smile.
“Baby, she’s going to love you. Trust me. Now stop jumping around like a fucking pogo-stick and come here.”
I throw my arm over her shoulder and she leans into me. Her muscles relax as my fingers trace along her skin.
“Excuse me, ‘Assassin’?”
A tall, awkward boy in the throes of puberty approaches us.
“Yeah.”
He shuffles his feet and avoids my eyes. He’s taller than Raven, but lanky. His messy brown hair hangs over his black-rimmed glasses. Printed in bold letters, his bright yellow shirt reads Stephen King is my Homeboy. I stifle a laugh.
“I thought it was you.” He flips a pen in his hand. “I’m a big fan. I’ve seen all your fights.” His voice cracks. “That take down against ‘Pit Bull’ Perez in oh-nine was the best I’d ever seen. I know you’re going to beat Del Toro tomorrow.
Raven gasps, and her grip tightens on the back of my shirt.
“I can’t wait to see the look on Del Toro’s face when you hold up that belt.”
You and me both, kid. Pride in my ability as a fighter, and anger for my inability to prove it, battle for dominance in my head.