Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Devon
I hadn’t heard from Jonny since I’d left after the match the previous afternoon, and my emotions kept spinning wildly between worry, fear, and boiling rage. I didn’t want to lose Jonny and the feeling that might happen kept gnawing away in my gut, only to be replaced with a burning anger at his behaviour.
Maybe I should have confronted him instead of allowing things to fester between us, but every time I’d tried he’d lashed out. I still wasn’t convinced by Peaches and West’s theory of him being jealous even if it was the best explanation I had. And that was more of a self-protection thing than anything else.
I didn’t want him to be jealous but at the same time I did. I didn’t want to lose him, but I also wanted him to realise what I meant to him or what we meant to each other. I wanted him to figure his shit out and talk to me about it, knowing full well I needed to do the same. I didn’t want him to keep secrets from me, despite the fact I’d been keeping my feelings under wraps for years.
I was a walking mess of contradictions and nothing was making me feel any better. I didn’t know where to start unpicking everything and every time I tried I came away feeling drained and grouchy.
Which was why I’d decided to make myself an enormous stack of chocolate chip banana pancakes for breakfast, because while it might not solve all my problems, it sure as shit would make me feel better. Especially if I also covered them in Nutella and raspberries.
I took my stack of pancakes into my living room and sat on the sofa under a mountain of blankets to watch old episodes of Dix pour cent , which had been one of the shows I’d watched endlessly to improve my French. I was pretty much able to quote the entire thing from memory, and it was a comfort watch I turned on when I wanted something to help me tune out the rest of the world.
I was three-quarters of the way through my pancakes when the doorbell rang and I groaned as I heaved myself to my feet and shuffled towards the door, still in the ratty joggers and old Marseille hoodie I’d thrown on when I’d gotten up. The hoodie now had a pancake batter stain down the front of it, but I was beyond giving a shit. My muscles ached from the match and I knew I’d have to drag myself through my recovery exercises or I’d feel even worse in the morning. But that could wait until I’d finished my breakfast and at least another two episodes.
And until I’d found out who was at my door at ten o’clock on a Sunday morning.
There was another knock, more urgent this time, and I grabbed my keys and grumbled to myself as I unthreaded the chain and unlocked the door, pulling it open with a muttered, “What the hell?” only to trail off halfway through when I realised who was standing on the doorstep. “Jonny?”
He looked like absolute shit, with dark circles under his eyes and skin so pale and drawn I thought he was ill. “Hey,” he said, croaking voice not doing anything to convince me he hadn’t come down with a cold overnight. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah,” I said, stepping back to let him in. “Are you okay? You look awful.”
He chuckled dryly and shook his head as he slid off his trainers. Like me, he was only wearing a hoodie and joggers, and I tried not to imagine what they’d look like on my bedroom floor. Or what I’d look like wandering around in his hoodie and nothing else. “No, not really.”
“Are you ill? Do you need some pills? I think I’ve got some cold and flu in the kitchen.”
He shook his head again as he walked through to my sitting room where Dix pour cent was still playing on the TV and my plate of nearly finished pancakes was resting on the coffee table with my half-drunk mug of coffee. “Nah, it’s not that. Just didn’t get much sleep,” he said. “Sorry, I’ve disturbed you.”
“You’re fine,” I said, picking up the remote to flick the TV off as I gestured for him to sit down. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, I’m okay. Thanks.” He sat on the end of the sofa, foot bouncing as he watched me. It was like watching a predator prowling around a cage, completely on edge and two seconds away from snapping. What the fuck had Mason and West said to him? I’d trusted the pair of them to go easy on him, but now I was wondering if I’d somehow handed Jonny over to the mob.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I sat down at the other end of the sofa, leaving plenty of room between us. “Did something happen? Is this about yesterday?”
“Sort of, but it’s not about the match. I’m sure I’ll get my ass chewed out at some point, though, even though Clive went pretty easy on me yesterday.”
“Then what’s it about?”
His foot was still bouncing as he turned to look at me. “Did West and Mason say anything to you?”
“Yeah,” I said. This was not the right time to lie or try and play games, mostly because I needed Jonny to be honest with me. “They just asked me if there was something going on with you because they were worried.”
Okay, so maybe a tiny white lie was necessary. But I wasn’t going to pour out my feelings until I knew what they’d said.
Jonny chuckled again. “Worried? That’s one way to put it.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” he said and for the first time in days he smiled. It made my chest ache because I realised how much I missed seeing him like this. I wasn’t used to him being so grumpy, wound-up, and snappy, and it made me realise how much I wanted my Jonny—the quiet, sarcastic, sweet man—back. “Not really, anyway. They cornered me last night and pretty much read me the riot act. And they said a bunch of other stuff too.” He waved his hand and glanced back at the TV, even though it was off. And I realised he was trying to look everywhere but at me.
“Oh yeah, what about?”
“Me. You. My feelings. My behaviour. What might be causing me to act like a complete twat.”
I swallowed, my heart beating so fast I almost felt dizzy. “What… er, what did you… did they…” Why were words so damn hard? My tongue suddenly felt like lead and I could barely speak.
“They think I’m jealous,” he said quietly, still not looking at me. I was transfixed on him, hanging on his every word. “That I’m lashing out because I don’t like the idea of you spending time with other people… with Peaches.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah, I think I am.” I let out a choked gasp as my breath caught in my throat. “Every time I think about you two together I get so angry I want to fucking punch something. The idea of him putting his hands on you, God, it makes me want to break his fucking fingers.”
“But you said… you told me…”
“Yeah, well, I lied,” he said, finally turning to face me. His eyes were burning with a possessive desire I’d never seen before and it floored me. In my wildest dreams, I’d never imagined Jonny looking at me like this—like if he couldn’t have me, then nobody should.
“I’ve been lying to myself, Dev, and to you. I fucking hate the idea of you being with anyone else. If you’re with anyone, it should be me and only me. Because, fuck, if I have to think about you shagging someone else one more time, then—”
His words ended in a muffled huff as I threw myself across the sofa, grabbed the front of his hoodie, and pulled him in to kiss.
It wasn’t soft or sweet or in any way romantic. Instead it was rough and awkward and almost clumsy, like our faces had collided for a second, but then Jonny’s hand wrapped around the back of my neck as his mouth moved against mine, deepening the kiss into something fierce and possessive. And I fucking groaned.
“Better?” I asked when we finally broke apart, our faces barely an inch from each other. Jonny’s eyes were wide, but that might have just been the fucked-up perspective. His hand was still gripping my neck, though, his fingers hot against my skin.
“Yes,” he said in a low, rumbling growl that did something to my insides. I’d never thought of Jonny as a possessive, jealous man but Peaches had been right—he’d wanted me all along. Only he hadn’t figured it out until now. And fuck, I didn’t know how to live with that information. It was like a complete overload. I’d wanted him for so damn long and here we were, kissing on my sofa.
It didn’t feel anywhere close to real.
“I can hear you thinking,” Jonny said, the tiniest smile twisting the corner of his lips. “Tell me what’s going on, Dev.”
“How is this real?” I asked, my fingers still clasped tightly in the front of his hoodie, knuckles turning almost white. “It can’t be real.”
“Can’t it? Don’t you want it to be real?”
“More than anything.”
“Good, because it’s real.” He pulled me in again, his lips brushing over mine for the barest moment, making me let out an undignified whine. I’d always been a little needy, but being this close to Jonny was making me feel fucking unhinged. He chuckled darkly, breath ghosting over my skin. “Fuck, doll, you sound so sweet. I need another taste.”
He kissed me again, stubble scraping against my cheek as he bullied his way into my mouth, tongue pushing between my lips to claim me. And I fucking melted against him. His kiss was everything and I was so happy to let him take the lead. I knew this was new territory for him, and I didn’t want to force him into anything he wasn’t ready for.
But I couldn’t have taken charge even if I’d wanted to because I couldn’t fucking breathe, let alone think. The only thought going round and round in my head was that this moment was everything I’d ever wanted and more.
So much more.
Jonny’s other hand landed on my thigh and I groaned as his broad palm slid up the outside of my leg, squeezing the firm muscle and making me gasp. His fingers dug in as he tugged on my neck and growled, “Come here, angel. Sit in my lap,” and oh my fucking god, I was going to die if he kept doing that.
I’d always wondered if Jonny would be the same in bed as he was outside of it—quiet, sweet, and serious—but no, he was desperate and possessive and it was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever experienced in my life. He wanted me in a way nobody else had before, and I was happy to let him take me.
I slid forward and climbed into his lap, barely breaking our kisses as I spread my legs across his broad thighs, my fingers still clutching his hoodie. Jonny groaned as I pressed myself against him, the hand on my leg sliding further down until he could grab my ass, squeezing it hard and growling into my mouth like a man possessed. “Fuck, doll. Feel so fucking good.”
“Touch me,” I said with a desperate gasp. “P-Please, Jonny.” I ground my hips forward and moaned as I felt the press of his hard cock through his joggers. Fucking hell, when I’d seen Jonny naked in the showers, I’d thought his dick might be big when hard but this proved my theory. Because soft he’d already looked like plenty, and hard… fuck, it was a good thing I was an experienced bottom.
“What do you want?” he asked, nipping my bottom lip as he gripped my ass, holding me against him.
“Anything. Everything.”
“Going to have to be more specific than that,” he said as he leant back and smirked at me, his gaze full of hunger. “Tell me, Devon. What do you want?”