19. Jonah
19
JONAH
I’m obsessed with her.
There’s no other way to explain how she’s invaded my mind, tormenting me with her presence while I’m awake and asleep. Nearly two weeks of nothing but Claire Davis in my head. Taking up so much space that I can barely see straight.
I spend half of my free time plotting how to make her pay for fucking my father and the other half thinking of ways to get her back into my bed.
And the thing I don’t want to admit, even to myself, is that I want to keep her. I want her to be mine. I just don’t know in what capacity.
Sex slave? Soulmate?
At the moment, my brain can’t identify a difference.
I spend the rest of Lisbon trying like hell to get her out of my fucking head, but after the plane ride to Madrid, I resign myself to riding it out. Fucking her might be a successful way to satiate my cravings, but I doubt it. It would probably just make me more ravenous for her, if that’s even possible. My chess game is so fucked.
I get no peace from Claire Davis. I am in so much fucking trouble.
Fuck her for being so fucking tempting. Fuck her for being everything I dream about.
But fuck, do I want to fuck her.
I bounce my eyes between her ass and the sweaty little curls at the nape of her neck as we walk back from the hotel gym. Her husky voice punctures my bubble, and I swallow back a groan. Why is her voice so goddamn sexy?
“What?” I snap, and she turns just enough to glower at me.
“I asked if you’d had a chance to look at the schedule for today.”
“Yeah. Volunteering in the kitchen at a homeless shelter. Photo op. Another guitar cover video if we have time.”
She nods. “Good.”
I roll my eyes at her back like a petulant teenager, and we don’t talk again until we’re back in the suite. I know my attitude isn’t helping anything, but if being an ass gives me space, I have to try it.
“I’m showering first.” I push past her and don’t give her a chance to protest. “Order me breakfast.”
I slam and lock the bathroom door behind me, then suck in lungsful of clean air. I can’t shower after her anymore. It becomes a sauna of lavender and sugar, and it gets me so fucking hard that I could black out. It’s difficult enough sleeping in the same room as her. Watching her silhouette through the glass partition. I could throw a blanket over it, but I’d just end up pulling it off again. Claire Davis’s shadow is my new porn.
Despite the lack of her scent in the shower, I still have to jerk off to relieve some of the tension. I’m not interested in anyone else. One word from Claire, one invitation, and I’d bend her over any surface possible and fuck her until her pussy squeezes every last ounce of cum from my body. I will fill her fucking up with it. Until it drips down her thighs. Until she can’t?—
“Hey. Can you hurry up? We need to leave in an hour, and I still have to get ready.”
I tilt my head to the ceiling and groan. This woman.
I turn off the water and climb out of the shower. I dry off, then wrap a towel around my waist before heading to the bedroom. Just as I round the corner, I run smack into Claire.
The way her eyes widen and that red tint colors her cheeks bring a satisfied grin to my face. Affecting her is my current drug of choice. It’s too bad she can’t replace the pills completely.
I take one step forward, and she takes one step back.
“I had my fingers in your pussy while you watched me jerk my dick, but me in a towel surprises you? ”
She schools her face into a scowl. “I’m not surprised.”
“I know that blush, Trouble.” I take another step toward her, but instead of stepping back again, she stands taller. “I bet I know what you’re thinking, too.”
“You’ve been a moody, irritable asshole for two weeks. I’m not thinking about anything other than finishing this job and getting the fuck away from you and The Hometown Heartless.”
It makes my gut twist and my blood boil. I don’t want to admit the fear that overcomes me. The panic. But why? Because I haven’t made her pay yet? Or because I can’t stand the idea of losing her?
I push my conflicted feelings away and force another smile. I know it looks like a sneer. I don’t really care.
“Is this how you deal with your feelings, Davis? You run from them?”
She scoffs. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been drowning your demons in vodka and chasing it with Xanax. Newsflash, Hendrix, that shit is a temporary fix. It does nothing but make things worse, especially if you only have one fucking kidney.”
I can tell from the flinch of her eyebrow that she regrets saying it, but it’s not the sentence itself that pisses me off. It’s the truth behind it. I never should have mentioned the transplant.
“Don’t think just because you’ve been up my ass for weeks that you know anything about my demons.”
“I know enough.”
“You know shit.”
“I know you’re never sober. I know you can’t make it through a single day without taking something. Did you not hear me before? I know the signs, and yours might as well be flashing neon. You might have everyone else fooled but not me. I see right through you.”
I feel like I’m being stabbed. I feel like we’ve regressed back to that night in Stockholm when she tore me up and left me to bleed out.
My teeth grind. My jaw aches.
I want to spit what I know at her. I want to slice her open in retaliation, but I know there will be no coming back from that. Any chance I have of winning this game, in any capacity, will crumble. So instead of lashing out, instead of hitting her with every last thing I’ve discovered about her own demons, I bite my tongue .
I bite my tongue, I play on her guilt, and I pick at her unhealed wounds.
“Fine.” I nod and step away from her. “Fine, Claire. You’re right. And if you want to leave, do it. I won’t stop you. I’ve been dealing with this alone, and I can do it again. I don’t need you.”
I watch her face go from anger, to regret, to concern, just like I wanted. My strategic move worked, and I feel like a complete sleazeball. I feel like my father. I don’t trust myself not to take it back, so I say nothing else. I walk to my side of the room and get changed. And when the bathroom door closes and the shower turns on, I drop my head between my knees and breathe.
“Play the whole board,” I whisper to myself. “This is chess, not checkers. Play the whole fucking board.”
As much as it kills me, I mentally add another tally in my column. I’m winning. That’s all that matters now.
“Hey.”
Claire flicks her eyes up to me briefly before training them back on her laptop.
“Hey.”
“You coming?”
She shakes her head. “No, thanks. I have to finalize our next few events, and I’m not eager to jump out of a plane. Have fun, though.”
Sav’s using our last day in Madrid to go skydiving. She tries to do it in every country we play in, and she tries like hell to get all of us to go with her. Everyone else usually does, but I’ve skipped all of them since Paris.
I head back into the bedroom, grab my book and my glasses, then take them to the couch and drop onto the cushion beside her. Claire turns her head toward me and arches a brow.
“Sav said you were leaving at ten. It’s nine. Don’t you have to meet them? You can’t be late if you want to be back before soundcheck.”
I put on my glasses and open my book. “I’m staying with you.”
“Why?”
“You’re my nanny, Claire. I can’t go anywhere without you. ”
“That’s ridiculous. You’ll be with your entire band, your manager, and at least three security details. I’m not worried about it.”
I sigh and make eye contact with her. “Maybe not, but I’d rather be here with you.”
Her head jerks back slightly. She runs her eyes over my face. Then, without another word, she goes back to her laptop.
We sit in the quiet for the next hour. The only sound in the room is her clacking on her keyboard and me turning my book pages. I hate how much I enjoy it.
Then the energy shifts. I’m too fucking tuned into her. I watch her body go rigid out of the corner of my eye. I feel her breathing stop, then quicken. When I turn to look at her fully, she’s staring wide-eyed at her computer, her mouth gaping open in disbelief. I lean closer to look at the screen. She slaps it shut, but not before I see the signature on the email.
“An email from my father?” I ask slowly, working to keep the anger from my voice.
“Yeah.”
“What did he want?”
She blows out a slow breath, then shakes her head. “It’s work-related.”
“I’m your work.”
“Other work. Nothing to do with you.”
She stands from the couch, her movements stiff, and walks into the bedroom. My ire for my father burns in my chest. I don’t know what he’s said to Claire, but it’s hurt her. I’m certain she lied. It’s not about work. It’s about their relationship. That pisses me off even more.
At him and at her.
I place my glasses and book on the coffee table, then follow her into the bedroom.
“You’re taking the rest of the day off,” I say to her. “We both are.”
“No.”
“Yes, Claire. Grab your swimsuit. There’s a heated saltwater pool on the roof. It’s closed to the public while we’re here.”
“No, Jonah.”
I close the distance between us and put my hands on her shoulders. Pride surges when she doesn’t push me away. I hold her gaze, then I smile.
“You’re coming with me. I need someone there if I drown.”
Claire rolls her eyes and shrugs me off her. “You can swim fine.”
“It’s been a while.” That’s not a lie. It’s been years. When she doesn’t respond I poke again. “Did you bring a swimsuit?” Her lack of response tells me she did. “Put on your suit. Come swim with me on the roof of this luxury European hotel. If you do, I’ll behave for at least the next two countries.”
She looks up at me through her lashes. Her face is blank and unamused. I sigh and go with the truth. She responds best when I give her honesty. She doesn’t have to know it’s heavily filtered and carefully chosen.
“You’re still mad at me. I deserve that. I was a prick. It’s hard for me to deal with my feelings for you.”
Got her. Her eyes widen. “ Toward me, you mean?”
“I said what I said. I told you in Lisbon that I want you. Almost having you has only made it worse.”
She shakes her head. “Sex will complicate our working relationship.”
“I know. But I can’t change what I feel.” I reach up and pull one of her curls, then smile. “I told you that I pay attention, Trouble. I like what I see. As long as you’re here, it’s going to fuck with me. But...” I shrug. “I need you here, so we’re at a stalemate.”
Her eyes soften. Her lips twitch at the corner. And then she turns away.
“Fine. Get out while I change.”
“I’ll meet you on the roof.”
I leave the bedroom and shut the door behind me. I smile the whole way to the pool. A small voice in the back of my head whispers to be careful, but just like every other reasonable warning my subconscious has tried to send me, I squash it. Hedonism is the word of the day, and I plan to embrace it.
“Those are underwear.”
I glance up from my lounge chair and almost swallow my tongue. I’ve seen her completely naked, but this simple black one-piece is sparking carnal urges. And her hair? Those dark curls are thrown up into a messy bun on the top of her head, the antithesis of everything she pretends to be every other day.
This look. This casual, carefree, disheveled look...
It will star in my fantasies for years to come.
I breathe slowly and shrug. My boxer briefs won’t hide an erection.
“I said it’s been a while since I’ve swum.” I push up from the chair and cross the pool deck until she’s within arm’s reach. “Why would I pack a swimsuit if I never go near a pool?”
She shakes her head, then slaps a bottle of sunscreen on my chest.
“Put this on. You don’t want to burn.”
“You want to do it for me?”
She tilts her head up and smiles sweetly, my smirk reflected in her mirrored sunglasses. I know what she’ll say before she says it. I still wait for her answer.
“You’re a big boy. Do it yourself.”
I laugh and do as she says. She’s right. I don’t want to burn. There’s nothing sexy about a rock star who looks like a lobster. When I’m finished, I toss the sunscreen onto one of the chairs and walk to Claire. She’s laid a towel out on a lounge chair, along with a couple bottles of water and an e-reader. No laptop.
“Together?” I nod toward the pool. “One, two, three, jump?”
She laughs, making my chest tighten. “That’s juvenile.”
“One...” I say slowly, walking toward her.
She shakes her head. “Don’t you dare.”
I don’t miss the laugh in her voice. I don’t miss how she’s failing to hide her smile.
“...Two...”
A giggle bubbles out of her, and she throws her hands up between us. I don’t stop prowling toward her.
“I swear to God, Jonah Hendrix, I will murder you.”
My smile stretches wide. I like when she’s sassy and playful. I’ll take any threat she throws at me if she says them in that tone, with that smile.
When she tries to back away from me, I snatch her by the waist and lift her bridal-style into my arms as she shrieks.
“Three, jump! ”
Her arms tighten around me, and she buries her face in my neck just as we hit the water. She doesn’t let go as we submerge and sink to the bottom. She holds on as I kick us back to the surface. She stays wrapped around me, even as we break through the water and gasp for breath.
“Asshole,” she pants out. “You’re such a dick.”
She finally releases me and swims to the other side of the pool, but I can’t take my eyes off her. The water sluicing down her cheeks and chin. Glistening on her neck. I’m hard in an instant.
“Shit, I lost my sunglasses.”
Her voice is only half-irritated, but I dive to the bottom and get her sunglasses for her anyway.
“Here,” I say, tossing them to her.
She barely catches them but slips them back on her face and then purses her lips at me.
“You’re not going to drown. You’re a good swimmer. You lured me up here on false pretenses.”
Slowly, I swim toward her. “Are you mad at me again?”
“I’m always mad at you.”
I don’t know why that makes me happy, but it does. It might have something to do with her teasing tone of voice or the tiny smirk playing at her lips. If she’s mad at me, she’s still feeling something. She’s thinking of me. Anger is better than apathy.
When I’m close enough, I put my arms on the pool’s edge on either side of her, caging her in. We can touch the bottom here, so I tower over her. Again, she doesn’t push me away. Again, excitement threatens to overrule my good sense.
“I like when you’re mad at me,” I whisper between us.
“Yeah?”
I watch a water droplet slide to her lips, tracing the seam. I want to lick it off.
“Mmm. I like when you sass. I like when you challenge me.”
She lets out a breathy laugh. “Why’s that?”
“It’s sexy. Turns me on. But I fucking hate it, too.”
“Why?”
I take her sunglasses off and set them on the pool deck, then rub my thumb over her lower lip, smearing the water droplet like lip gloss. Like cum .
“Because it just makes me want you more.”
Her slow exhale is shaky. It tickles my lips and nose. I want to put my mouth on hers and breathe her breath. I want to swallow her.
Her eyes drop to my lips. My hard dick strains against the soaking wet fabric of my boxer briefs. My plan was to play it cool, but my plan was incinerated by one heated look from the little pain in my ass in front of me.
“Let me kiss you. Put me out of my fucking misery.”
“It’s a bad idea.”
I smirk, then move to grip her throat. I stare at the way my fingers wrap so perfectly around it. Trachea. Carotid arteries. Jugular. All right here in the palm of my hand. I slide down to her collarbone and apply pressure. Not a lot. Just enough to test her. To give the illusion of being pinned. Her eyelashes flutter, and her white teeth sink into her pillowy, pink lower lip.
Fuck me, she’s fucking perfect.
Of all the women I’ve met, why does this one have to be the one who fucks with me? Why here? Why now?
Supreme temptation. It’s my punishment.
Claire Davis could be my penance, but I’ll be damned if I admit my sins out loud. They’re mine and mine alone to contend with.
No atonement, then. Just pain.
“I disagree,” I say, my voice rough and desperate. “I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.” I run my nose over hers, our lips centimeters from touching. “Let me kiss you, Claire. Let me have you. I swear I’ll?—”
Her mouth presses against mine and opens immediately. I groan and palm the back of her head, sliding my other hand to her ass. I hold her against me as I coax her to wrap her legs around my waist. She gasps when I press my hard cock against her hot pussy.
“See? You see what you do to me, Trouble?” She starts to rub on me. The sensation makes starbursts appear on the backs of my eyelids. “Fuck, you make me fucking crazy.”
When she moves her tiny, delicate hand to my neck, I picture it splayed over my tattoo. Holding that heart in her palm. My heart.
It’s too much. Any more, and I’m going to fuck her in this pool. I pull away.
“You have three minutes to get to the suite before I come after you. If you’ve changed your mind by the time I catch up, we’ll go back to how we were before. But if you haven’t...” I put more distance between us. “If you want this, I’m going to fuck you.”
She stares at me. Her chest heaves up and down with her labored breathing. My eyes drop to watch her cleavage strain against the swimsuit, imagining exactly what I know is underneath.
I nod to the door of the roof.
“Clock’s ticking, Trouble.”
She gasps, and then she moves. I close my eyes so I don’t stare at her wet body. That black suit suctioned to her skin. Nipples visible through the thin fabric. Ass cheeks peeking from the bottom. I grab my cock and squeeze to relieve some pressure.
When the door slams shut, I start to count. I force myself to go slow, but as soon as I get to one-eighty, I’m springing out of the pool and darting for the door.
Fuck, please let her want this. If she’s changed her mind, I will die.
It takes a year to get back to the suite. I fling the door open and head straight for the bedroom. Claire whips around to face me, a towel clutched to her naked body. I grin.
“Well?” I ask, the need obvious in the single syllable. She doesn’t answer, so I take three more steps toward her. “You’re usually such a mouthy little thing, Trouble. Did you lose your voice between here and the pool?”
Her eyes narrow just like I knew they would, then she tilts her head to the side and drops her gaze to my hard cock. The wet boxer briefs do nothing to conceal it. I keep my attention trained on her face so I can see that blush creep up her neck. It only makes me harder.
“Words, Claire. Words.”
She flicks her eyes back to mine. “Take them off.”
I grin and do as she commanded, kicking the sopping wet cotton to the side of the room. I place my hands on my hips and watch as she surveys my whole body. Then she drops her towel.
I’ve never known temptation like this.
Standing in front of a naked Claire Davis, wanting her like this, but forcing myself to remain still. I’m a bull at a bullfight, waiting impatiently for the gate to open, and she’s my red flag. I’d charge her right now if I could .
“I’ve never...” Her lips purse as she glances back at my face. “I’ve never been with someone that...size.”
Pride surges inside me before it’s extinguished by jealousy. By rage. I don’t know all of her exes, but I know one. It makes me want her more just to fuck them both up. My head is such a mess, a cage fight of conflicting emotions battling out inside my skull.
I want her. I want to hurt her. I want to hurt my father. I want to light our pasts on fire so I can keep her for myself, knowing damn fucking well that it’s impossible.
I force my expression into placidity and give her another truth. “I’ll be gentle.”
She nods, then walks backward until her thighs bump the mattress. I grit my teeth and watch as she slides onto the bed, stretches her legs out in front of her, and lies back on the pillow. Then she raises her arm and crooks her finger at me.
I charge.
“Spread your legs,” I command as I kneel on the mattress.
The words bring memories of Lisbon. When she obeys, all I can think about is the way she tasted on my tongue. The way she felt squeezing my fingers.
I lower myself between her thighs and inhale. Lavender and sugar and sex. I take her tiny clit between my lips and suck hard just to hear her gasp. Her hips lift off the bed, so I reach around her legs and press my arm to her pelvis, pinning her into the mattress. The only way I’m letting her free now is if she asks me to.
I lick her up and down, reveling in her taste, in the way she tries to pulse her pussy against me. She’s whimpering and squirming. It’s so fucking hot that I flex my ass and press my cock into the mattress.
“I will dream about this pussy.” I pull back as I watch my fingers slowly push inside her. “Fuck, the way you’re swallowing me up.” I crook my fingers, rubbing that spot inside her that makes her moan. “You have no fucking idea what this does to me, Claire. You have no fucking idea.”
“More.” She tries to move on my hand. “More, Jonah.”
“More? Yeah?”
“Yes. More.”
My grin doesn’t leave my face as I flick my tongue over her clit. I graze my teeth on it just to hear her cry out. When I look up her body, her eyes lock with mine, and my tongue moves faster.
“Oh, Jesus. Oh my God.” Her hands are clutching at her tits. She’s trying so hard to move, to fuck my face, but I pin her down harder. “I’m so close.”
I suck one last time on her clit. I wait until I feel her pussy pulsing around my fingers. Then I release her and rise back onto my knees. I leave her wanting. Her brows scrunch, full lips turning into a pout, and I laugh.
“You’ve got to earn it.” I wrap my hand around my cock and stroke. “How will you earn it, Trouble?”
She sits up and crawls down the bed toward me. The way she arches her back, sticking her ass into the air. She’s doing it on purpose. I know it. I reach over her body and smack one perfect ass cheek. She gasps, and I laugh.
“Are you going to suck it or stare at it?”
She snarls up at me before wrapping her hand around my cock. Finally, she licks up my shaft and takes the head into her mouth. When she swirls her tongue around my ridge, I groan.
“Oh, fuck. This hot little tongue.” I fist my hand into her curls, but I let her lead. I let her test me out. She slides my cock farther into her mouth, breeching her throat, and I see fucking stars. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Just like that.”
Slowly, she takes more of me, laving her tongue on the underside of my cock and using her hand to work the rest. It’s erotic as fuck watching more and more of my cock disappear into her mouth. I picture it sliding into her throat, cutting off her air supply.
“Jesus Christ, Claire.” I tighten my grip on her hair and pulse into her. “Yes, baby. Fuck, you’re doing so good.”
I push more of myself into her. She doesn’t even gag. She just takes me until I pull out to let her gasp for breath. She looks up at me with her eyes watering, her mouth covered in spit, and I could come now. I could fucking come right now from half a blow job.
“I want to fuck your throat,” I say roughly. “Will you let me?”
She hesitates. I hold my breath as she considers. Then mercifully, she nods. “Yes.”
Fuck, the way her voice rasps around the word.. .
“If it’s too much, tap my thigh twice.”
She nods again. “Okay.”
“Do it right now. Tap it twice. Show me you understand.”
As soon as she does what I ask, I move. I start slow, sliding in a little deeper each time. I fill her up, then pull out so she can breathe. So she can gulp in a lungful of air around my cock, cooling the skin on my shaft, before I push back in.
When she taps my thigh, I pull out. I stroke her hair and swipe a thumb gently over her cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. I just need a minute.”
She closes her eyes and breathes slowly through her nose. Deep, calming breaths, like she’s trying to settle herself. I start to worry. Did I hurt her? Did I scare her? I’m seconds from backing off entirely when she takes my cock into her mouth once more.
Her moves are confident, eager. I let her lead for a moment just so I can watch her, and then I take over. I start slow, pushing in farther and farther each time, until I’m as far down her throat as she can handle. Until she gags. And fuck, the way she gags. The way she pants. The way her eyes water, tears streaming down her cheeks. The way she fucking takes me...
I move faster, shoving down and pulling out quickly, until I’m fucking her like I said I would. She’s a mess of spit and tears, and I’m in fucking heaven. I pull all the way out and use her hair to tilt her face to mine. Her eyelashes are matted as she blinks up at me. Her cheeks are flushed and glistening.
“This time, I want you to swallow around me. Can you do that?”
She nods, and I smile.
“Of course you can.” I reach down and rub my thumb over her jaw, then rub the tip of my cock over her lower lip as she opens for me. “Tap twice if you need a break, okay?” She nods again. “Stick your tongue out.” I slap the head of my cock on her tongue. “You’re too fucking perfect,” I whisper, then I shove into her mouth again.
I bring my hand to her neck, feeling her throat contract with my cock inside, feeling her muscles move when she swallows. Choking me while I choke her.
“Fuck me. Goddamn, you’re doing so fucking good. Swallow just like that.” I groan. “I could fuck your throat forever. You’re so fucking good at this. I could do it for-fucking-ever, Trouble. Look at me. Look up at me while you swallow my cock.”
She obeys. She obeys, and my chest aches with need.
Fuck her. Fuck Claire Davis for being the only woman I’ve ever wanted to keep.
I pull out and tug her hair, so she rises back onto her knees.
“Lie down, spread your legs wide, and shove your fingers in your pussy.”
She blinks twice, then does exactly what I told her to do. I watch her finger-fuck herself as I climb off the bed and grab a condom from my suitcase. I don’t take my eyes off her as I rip open the package and slide the latex down my throbbing cock.
I position myself between her legs once more. I let myself watch the show long enough to regain a semblance of composure. Long enough to set my head straight. Then I look back at her flushed, desperate face. Her mouth is red and swollen. Her cheeks are flushed and tear-stained. And her eyes...they’re so fucking needy. Her pupils are blown wide and begging for me.
I reach down and pinch one of her nipples.
“Have you earned it, Trouble?”
She nods. “Yes. I have.”
“You’re such a fucking good girl.” I swipe the head of my cock through her pussy lips, and then I slowly push inside.