Chapter 41
N ora
Well, now I’ve been properly claimed. I inspect my body in the bathroom mirror—love bites, tiny bruises from his giant fingers, and beard burns cover a good part of me, and I don’t remember feeling this good.
I emerge from the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a fluffy white towel, my skin flushed from the hot shower and water from my hair dripping down my back.
My clothes are scattered across his bedroom floor where we left them, but I’m in no rush to collect them.
Instead, I tiptoe toward the bed where he’s still sleeping, one arm flung across the space I vacated.
He sleeps deeply, I’ve discovered, like someone who’s spent years staying alert and is finally letting his guard down.
Probably because of all his traveling. I imagine it’s hard to relax being on new territory nearly every month.
The house is quiet except for his steady breathing and the occasional creak of old wood settling. My house does the same thing, and it’s an oddly comforting sound.
I perch on the edge of the mattress, watching the rise and fall of his chest. The sheets are tangled around his waist, leaving his torso bare, a canvas of hard muscle and scattered scars I explored with my fingertips.
My gaze lingers on a particularly jagged mark that looks like a stab wound near his ribs, and I wonder again about the stories he hasn’t told me, which are plenty, I’m sure.
I want to ask about every single ridge on his skin, but I want him to tell me about them himself.
“You planning to stare all morning?” His voice, rough with sleep, startles me.
I smile, tugging the towel tighter around me. “Maybe. The view’s not bad.”
His eyes open, dark and immediately alert. They travel slowly from my face down to where the towel ends mid-thigh, then back up again. The intensity in his gaze makes me feel both exposed and powerful.
“Not bad yourself,” he murmurs, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Though I think I preferred you without the towel.”
“Did you now?” I tilt my head, letting my damp hair fall across one shoulder.
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Yes.”
I let my fingers trace the edge of the towel where it tucks between my breasts. “I should probably get dressed. I need to open the diner.”
He reaches out, his hand circling my wrist. “Not yet.”
The two simple words send a shiver down my spine. “I have responsibilities, you know.”
“So do I.” His thumb traces circles on the inside of my wrist. “Like making sure you don’t leave this bed without remembering why you came here in the first place.”
I arch an eyebrow. “I believe I remember quite clearly that I didn’t exactly come here on my own feet.”
“I didn’t see you complaining,” he says, biting his lip and letting his lazy gaze drop toward his front. His smug face makes me laugh.
“I guess it was all right.” I shrug nonchalantly as if dismissing all his attempts last night to satisfy my cravings.
“Maybe you need a reminder how really all right it was.” His voice drops lower, and he tugs gently on my wrist, pulling me toward him.
I resist, just to see what he’ll do. I’ve discovered that I like rough Jericho as much as I love him as a teddy bear. “What if I don’t want a reminder?” I challenge, even as my body betrays me, leaning toward his pull.
His eyes darken. “Then I’ll have to be very persuasive.”
In one fluid motion, he pulls me onto the bed, rolling us so I’m pinned beneath him. The towel loosens, threatening to come undone completely. His weight on me is delicious, solid and warm. Something I didn’t know I’ve been missing all along.
“You’re going to make me late,” I murmur, but my hands are already sliding up his bare chest.
“The town will survive without coffee for a few extra minutes.” He lowers his head, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below my ear. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
But I don’t want him to stop. Instead, I arch into him, my body responding to his touch like we’ve been doing this for years instead of hours. The towel finally gives way, falling open beneath me.
His hand slides down my side, over my hip, and I enjoy the roughness of his palm against my skin. “You’re playing dirty,” I breathe out.
“Whatever works.” His mouth travels down my neck to the marks he left last night, brushing over them with a gentleness that contrasts with the hunger in his eyes.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “We don’t have time for games.”
“Who’s playing?” He kisses lower, between my breasts, down my stomach. “I’m dead serious about keeping you here.”
“Then you’d better hurry up—we’ve got five minutes.”
“I can work with that.”
“Just what every girl wants to hear.” My laugh turns into a moan as his mouth finds its destination. All thoughts of the diner fade away as he proves just how persuasive he can be—the town sure can survive without coffee, but I can’t survive without Jericho’s mouth on me anymore.
Later—much later than five minutes—I’m finally getting dressed, searching for my scattered clothes while Jericho watches from the bed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“You know Karina’s going to know exactly why I’m late,” I say, pulling on my jeans.
“Good.” His smugness should be annoying, but I find it oddly endearing. “Maybe she’ll tell Nick about it.”
I throw his shirt at him. “Get dressed. You’re driving me to work.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He catches it one-handed, not bothering to hide his grin. “I hope Nick will be there too.”
Chuckling to myself about this poor Nick fella who’s apparently been in competition with Jericho without even knowing it, I pull my old clothes on and run to my house to change. Thank goodness Grandma is busy with something in her room so I avoid getting grilled before I’ve even had my coffee.
The drive to the diner is quiet, comfortable. His hand finds mine across the console, and I let him hold it, still marveling at how natural this feels. The morning sun glints off the snow, turning the world into a dazzling landscape of white and gold .
My thighs feel a little itchy. Probably from his beard.
My insides are a little sore too from taking such a big person after a long hiatus.
But neither bothers me, quite the opposite—it makes me feel oddly alive.
My hand goes to my chest to fidget with my protective crystal, but I find the spot empty.
Looks like I’ve forgotten to put one on for the first time in years.
When we pull up in front of the diner, I can see Karina through the window, already busy with the morning rush. I’m usually there, battling the grumpy morning people by her side, but today I’m late. For the first time since I’ve taken over.
I hesitate, my hand on the door handle.
“What?” Jericho asks, watching me.
“Nothing. Just—” I turn to face him. “This just feels… not real.”
“What?”
“This.” I gesture between him and me. “Us. Me being with someone.”
His expression softens. “It feels unreal to me too, Nora. Despite my extraordinary abilities, I haven’t had much experience with relationships.”
“Extraordinary, huh?” I ask, watching his smug face—he looks so boyish, so carefree. Like he’s a teenager sneaking out of the house.
His eyes darken. “I’m more than happy to repeat the performance.”
“Right now?”
He leans back and pats his thighs with his big palms. “Get on and find out.”
Seeing this look on his face makes me nearly double over with laughter. “Who is this new, unhinged Jericho?”
His smile drops. “Do you like him?”
The feeling that I might have accidentally spooked him makes my gut turn, so I wiggle in my seat to move closer to him. Cupping his face with my hands, I lean into him. “Yes, Jericho. I like him a lot. Bring him around more often.”
He laughs, a full, rich sound that makes me want to stay in the truck with him all day. “You really are a witch. Taming the beast. All of them.”
“I have my ways,” I say with a wink, leaning over to kiss him quickly before sliding out of the truck. “See you later?”
“Count on it.”
The bell jingles as I push through the door, and Karina’s head snaps up. Her eyes widen, then narrow as she takes in my appearance.
“Well, well, well,” she drawls, abandoning the coffee pot to plant herself in front of me. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Good morning to you too,” I say, slipping past her to grab my apron from the hook.
“Oh no you don’t.” She blocks my path, arms crossed. “You don’t get to waltz in here glowing like a Christmas tree,” she glances at her wristwatch, “late for the first time in forever without giving me details.”
I tie the apron strings around my waist, trying to look busy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.” She points at my chest. “You’re not wearing your crystals.” Then she leans in, lowering her voice, but not quiet enough, as the nearby people suddenly raise their brows. “You totally got laid.”
Heat rushes to my face. “Karina!”
“What? It’s written all over you. And him.” She nods toward the window where Jericho’s truck is just pulling away. “I was watching you through the window.”
“Peeper much?” I say.
“My life is boring, let me live through you.” She waves me off. “The man looked like he just won the lottery.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Maybe he did. ”
“Oh my God.” She clutches her chest dramatically. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
“Shut up,” I laugh, grabbing the coffee pot from the counter. “Don’t we have customers to serve?”
“They can wait. This is far more interesting.”
Roman emerges from the kitchen, spatula in hand. “Why isn’t anyone taking orders?” His eyes land on me, and his face softens into a smile. “There she is. You look happy today, kid.”
“That’s because—” Karina starts, but I cut her off with a sharp elbow to the ribs.
“Because it’s a beautiful morning,” I finish, giving Roman my most innocent smile.
He looks between us, brows furrowed. “Something I should know?”