Chapter 10
Chloe
Dinner was delicious, but we rushed through it, knowing what dessert we really wanted. And we barely make it through the front door.
Jonah’s mouth is on mine before I can turn on the lights, his hands gripping my hips, backing me against the wall of the entryway. I gasp against his lips, and he swallows the sound, kissing me like he’s been starving for it.
Maybe he has been. Maybe we both have.
“The twins—” I manage between kisses.
“At my mom’s. Until tomorrow, remember?” His teeth graze my neck, and I arch into him. “We have the whole night.”
“The whole night,” I repeat, my hands fisting in his shirt. “Jonah—”
“Tell me to stop.” His voice is rough, desperate. “Tell me to slow down, and I will.”
“Don’t you dare stop.” I pull him closer, wrapping one leg around his hip. “Don’t you dare slow down.”
He groans, low and dark, and then his hands are under my thighs, lifting me.
I wrap both legs around his waist, and he carries me through the dark house like I weigh nothing.
We’re kissing the whole way— messy, urgent, all tongue and teeth and need.
My hands in his hair. His hands cupping my ass, hard.
He takes the stairs two at a time, and I’m dizzy with wanting him.
With wanting this. We’ve been dancing around this for weeks, stealing touches, bodies brushing in the kitchen, keeping it appropriate because of the twins, because of the newness of us.
But there’s nothing appropriate about the way he’s touching me now.
Nothing restrained about the way I’m clawing at his shirt, trying to get it off him.
Trying to get skin-to-skin like it’s oxygen to my body.
His bedroom door slams open, and then we’re falling onto his bed —that big, king-sized bed I stared at what seems like forever ago— and he’s covering my body with his.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he says against my throat. “Every morning in the bakery. Every night when you’re down the hall. I’ve been going insane wanting you.”
“Then have me.” I arch up, pressing against him, and feel how much he wants this. Wants me. His cock hard and bulging. “I’m yours, Jonah. I’m right here.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, and even in the dim light from the hallway, I can see the heat in his eyes. The need. “You’re sure?”
“I love you.” The words come easily now. “I’ve never been more sure.”
That’s all he needs.
He pulls my dress over my head in one smooth motion, and then his hands are everywhere— sliding up my ribs, cupping my breasts through my bra, making me whimper.
I fumble with his belt, clumsy with need, and he helps me, shedding his clothes with an efficiency that should not be as attractive as it is.
Then we’re skin-to-skin, and I was wrong. I forget how to breathe. Oxygen seems absent from the room. It’s spinning my head and twisting my gut.
He’s beautiful. All lean muscle and warm skin, and when he settles between my thighs, I can feel how much he wants me. How much he needs this.
“Chloe.” My name is a prayer on his lips. “God, you’re perfect.”
“I’m really not.” But I feel perfect under his gaze. Feel wanted and cherished and claimed.
“You are.” He kisses me, slow and deep, while his hands map my body like he’s memorizing every curve. “You’re everything.”
I reach down between us, wrapping my hand around him, and he makes a sound that’s half-curse, half-prayer. “Chloe, I—if you keep doing that—”
“Then don’t make me stop.” I stroke him, watching his face, loving the way his jaw clenches. Loving the way he’s losing control.
“Condom,” he grits out. “I need—drawer—”
I release him long enough for him to reach over and fumble in the nightstand. He’s shaking as he rolls it on, and the sight of him —this strong, controlled man coming undone for me—makes heat pool low in my belly.
“Come here,” I whisper, pulling him back down.
He settles between my thighs again, and this time when he kisses me, it’s different. Softer. Reverent.
“I love you,” he says. “I need you to know that. This isn’t just— I love you, Chloe.”
“I know.” I cup his face, looking into his dark eyes. “I love you too. Now please—”
He enters me in one slow thrust, and we both freeze, breathing hard.
“Shit. You okay?” he asks, his voice strained, jaw tight.
“More than okay.” I wrap my legs around him, taking him deeper. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” My whole body shakes, a precursor to what’s quickly approaching.
Thank God, he doesn’t.
He moves, and I move with him, and it’s not gentle or slow. It’s desperate and raw and perfect. He buries his face in my neck, and I can feel him trembling, feel him fighting for control.
“Let go,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”
He makes a broken sound against my skin, and then he’s moving harder, faster, like he can’t help himself. Like he needs this as much as I do. I meet him thrust for thrust, my nails digging into his shoulders, chasing the pleasure building inside me.
“Chloe.” He lifts his head, watching me. “I want to see you. When you— I need to see you.”
The intensity in his eyes pushes me higher, and I’m so close, trembling on the edge. He reaches between us, his thumb finding the perfect spot, rubbing, teasing, brushing, and I shatter.
I cry out his name, my body arching off the bed, and he follows me over, groaning into my neck as he comes apart.
We collapse together, breathing hard, tangled in each other.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. Can’t move. We just lie there, hearts pounding against each other, coming back to ourselves.
“Holy hell,” Jonah finally says, his voice wrecked.
I laugh, breathless. “Yeah. That was—”
“Not nearly enough.” He lifts his head, and there’s heat still burning in his eyes. “I need you again. Already.”
“We have all night,” I remind him, running my fingers through his hair.
“Good.” He kisses me, slow and deep. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”
He proves it fifteen minutes later, and again an hour after that. We’re insatiable, learning each other’s bodies, finding what makes the other gasp and moan and beg. By the time we finally collapse, exhausted and satisfied, the sky outside is starting to lighten.
“We should sleep,” Jonah murmurs, pulling me against his chest.
“Probably.” But I don’t want to. Don’t want to miss a second of this.
“The twins come home at nine.”
“Then we have three hours.” I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “Think we can fit in one more?”
He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. “You’re going to kill me.”
“But what a way to go.”
He rolls me onto my back, settling between my thighs again, and I realize I was wrong before. This isn’t just need or want or lust.
This is love. Raw and real and all-consuming.
And I never want it to end.