Chapter 12
twelve
JONAH
Ribs - Lorde
Icould never put my finger exactly on what drove me crazy about Kit. The glide of her lips against mine; the drag of her sharp nails against my skin; the gentle, soft moans of satisfaction that escaped her. Maybe it was every single thing about her.
It had only been one night since I first tasted her, and I was already craving more, like she was a drug I’d never have enough of. Always coming back. Always wanting more. Never fully satisfied.
Kit deepened the kiss, her tongue pulling against my own, teasing and playful.
I pulled her closer to me, my fingers pressing into the curve of her thigh as she sat on the stool, but it still wasn’t enough.
She’d looked so sad when I came back, that smile gone, and I knew then I’d get on my knees to see it again, even for the tiniest of glimpses.
I pushed my hands further, tracing the curve of her ass. Dragging her to the edge of the chair, I pulled her up, her legs and arms wrapping around me on instinct. The heat of her body so close to mine only drove me madder, her grip on my body tight, the vibration as she groaned.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled as I pushed her back, her ass sliding against the counter of the breakfast bar, using her body to push everything from the surface.
Some carrots fell to the floor. I ignored them, focusing only on her.
It was hard to care about anything else while she was around – she, my sole obsession.
I’d barely spent ten minutes on the phone with my family, impatient to return to her.
I’d prepared to be so alone this year, telling myself I’d enjoy the peace and quiet, confident in my solitude. But the more Christmas neared, the more it had turned into loneliness.
And then she’d walked into the pub.
“I need you on the counter,” I said, my lips leaving hers, tracing down her neck, dipping to the edge of the sweater she’d stolen from me.
She looked so good in my clothes.
She murmured slightly, the sound delighted, “Hungry, are we?”
I pulled the material off, revealing lengths of milky skin, pale freckles littering her skin like a constellation, only broken by the thin black strap of her top. I kissed along the material, basking in the expensive scent of her body lotion, every inch of her a luxury.
My fingers tugged at her bottoms, Kit raising her hips a little to allow me to tug both layers off, and I let them drop to the floor.
She looked up at me, almost expectantly, blue eyes tracing my every move.
Her blonde hair was down, in loose waves that curved over her opposite shoulder, escapee strands across her face.
“Starved,” I answered, pushing the strands of hair back behind her ear. “And I need you to keep an eye on the pot while I do.”
Her head twisted towards the stove, as though she’d forgotten once again that it was still on. With a hand on the bottom of her chin, I moved her head back towards me. “Can you do that for me?”
She nodded silently, her gaze fixed with lust. I kissed her again, unable to keep myself from her. With my free hand, I pulled the stool across the floor so I could sit comfortably between her legs but lowered at the right height.
With my hands on the underside of her thighs, I pulled her forward, her ass right on the edge of the counter. She let out an almost giggle, the sound music to my ears.
Kit leaned back on her elbows, her head leaning to the side as she crooned, “You look so pretty between my legs.”
I grinned, my hands skimming down to the inside of her thighs, pushing them wide. “Every part of you is beautiful.” I leaned in, hands pinning her hips. “I want to watch you come undone again.”
I breathed her in before slipping my tongue along her as she leaned back further, offering up more as her hips rose up to meet me. I sank into her, savouring the taste on my tongue, watching as her head fell backwards, a cascade of blonde waves behind her.
Fuck, she was beautiful.
Every moan that left her mouth drove me further, and I worked wildly to get more.
When I pushed a finger to her entrance, her hips bucked, driving herself down, showing me how desperate she was for more.
I cursed myself for not having protection in the lodge.
I hadn’t been expecting company, let alone when the village shop was closed, and now, my cock hard in my pants, I was desperate to feel how tight she was, to be that close to her.
I bet she’d look like an angel on top.
Her fingers tightened in my hair as I still teased her with the tip of my finger, only just pushing it inside, keeping her right on that edge.
“Fuck you, Jonah.” Every word from her pretty mouth was strangled, a desperate plea for more.
I grinned. “Are you keeping an eye on the food?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Her head softly tilted towards the hob on the other side of the room, her eyes flickering open.
“I think—” Her words cut off as I pushed two fingers fully inside of her, pulling at the sensitive spot that drove her crazy, the one I’d discovered last night. Her back arched higher from the counter as she pulled tighter on my fingers.
She was close. I could feel it in the throbbing of her pussy, the grinding of her hips against my mouth, in her voice. “It’s fine. Keep going. Please.”
I did as she asked, grinding my mouth against her, desperate to keep her going. Watching her was every part a reward, my own desire turning wild, my dick hard against the front of my jeans, the careful grinding against the material turning my blood hot.
Seeing her so needy, so demanding for more, was everything I needed. Her hips continued to drive against me, showing me exactly where and how she wanted my mouth.
“I want to watch you come on this kitchen counter, Kit,” I murmured against her. “I want to see how loud I can get you.”
Her eyes rolled back at my words, a hand gripping the edge of the counter for support. “I’m close,” she breathed, spurring me on, every movement of her perfect body bringing me closer to losing my own control. I didn’t hesitate, giving myself over to her, mind, body, and soul.
As though my only purpose in life was her on this counter and giving her everything she needed.
I moaned against her, sucking and using my tongue to pull what I wanted from her.
She reached her release, shaking as she ground slower against my mouth, her fingers interlacing with my hair, pulling me against her, using my body. Taking what she wanted, just like I needed.
All of it grew too much. The feel of her against my mouth, rough and hard, the softness of her skin, tense muscles underneath that squeezed around my neck. The sound of her loud, aching moan was enough, chasing me off my own cliff edge.
I groaned deeply, almost collapsing onto her as I came against my briefs, a sticky wet patch growing against my groin.
“Satisfied now?” she asked, her chest still rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.
I twisted my head, catching on her deep blue gaze, strands of blonde hair sticking to her forehead, a lopsided smile on full display.
Gorgeous. Always so gorgeous.
“With you?” I said, my body shaking slightly, muscles feeling the fatigue. “I don’t know if I can ever get enough.”
“Watch out, this is hot,” I warned, pulling the turkey crown held between my oven gloves.
“You’re hot,” Kit joked as she backed away, giving me the space to close the oven door with my foot, keeping the heat inside for the rest of the food.
“Thanks.” I smiled back, turning desperate to find some free counter space in the small kitchen. “So is this, and if I don’t put it down somewhere, I’m going to drop it.”
Kit leaped into action, moving some of the prepared food out of the way and allowing me to set the dish down.
I looked down at the crown, the meat swimming in a beautiful golden stock. Liquid gold. “She’s beautiful.”
“You must be a good chef.” She leaned in, looking over my shoulder, her hot breath against the back of my neck sending shivers down my spine as she inspected it. “Do you normally cook on Christmas?”
“I help,” I answered. She stepped away, giving me space to drain the broth from the dish into a free pot. “I’ve always gone home, and while the rest of the family relax, Mom and I work together in the kitchen.”
I couldn’t help smiling at the memory. So many holidays were spent the exact same way, but this one, I’d thought I wanted something different. Turned out I didn’t know what I wanted until Kit Sinclair came knocking.
Her smile flickered, just for a second. “Do you have a date? To go home?”
I’d spent every moment I had sinking into the comfort of her presence, but reality still tugged at me like an impatient child.
The reality was that I had other commitments, deadlines, life things to deal with.
Not to mention that the day after tomorrow she’d be gone, and I’d be left here with nothing but a memory.
“I need to decide in the new year,” I admitted. “My publisher needs it by the end of January, and I need to figure out what I want to do after.”
“After the book?”
I nodded, finding that I couldn’t bear to look at her as I admitted, “Sometimes I think that coming here was me running away from making a decision. Like, I played through college and expected to continue after. I thought I’d be good enough.”
“Weren’t you?”
I pulled two plates out of the cupboard, getting ready as it drew time to serve.
“I played fine, but I felt like I lost some of the passion. When I chose to go to college, it felt like an insurance policy. And in the end, I worked at a tennis training facility for a long time before I decided I wanted to do some travelling. Thought I needed to see the world. So I’ve been doing coaching gigs like this one to keep me going.
But I found that there was a disconnect between what I knew players needed and what some of the coaches were teaching, even the ones with more experience.
The book felt like a good way to link the two parts of me. ”