Chapter 7
stella
When I woke up on the opposite side of the bed I had fallen asleep in last night, and Jonas was nowhere to be found, I thanked my lucky stars.
I vaguely remember being wrapped up in a hold of warmth and muscles, and it’s unclear if I was dreaming or not, but I swear I could feel the weight of a heavy thigh trapped between my legs.
My phone buzzes against the bathroom counter, saving me from the thoughts I need to stop exploring.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Mija? You sound like you just woke up.”
I crack the door open just enough to catch a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand. Nine-thirty. God forbid a girl sleeps in while on vacation.
“No. I was just about to jump in the shower.”
“Oh, okay. Well, everyone did their own thing for breakfast this morning, but we booked a snorkeling tour for the ten of us today. We have to meet at the dock by one-thirty.”
The ten of us. I gnaw on my bottom lip, trying to imagine Jonas’s face when I tell him I got us roped into another activity with my parents.
He’s gone above and beyond and been nothing but charming along the way.
And while he continues to remind me we’re helping each other out, the truth is, he really only needed my wrist to get past the front desk.
I’m using him to swindle my entire family.
“Well, you know I’ll be there,” I say with faux enthusiasm, “but, um…I think Jonas said he had some last-minute work emergency, though.”
“Of course. It’s nice that he’s so dedicated to his work.”
“He’s a real super hero, like that,” I deadpan, reaching into the shower and turning on the water.
“Do you know what he’s working on? Maybe Isabelle can help, and he can get it done sooner. I could ask if—”
“Who knows?” I cut her off. “You know how it is. Someone’s always trying to sue someone else, right? I just cross my fingers, and hope that he’ll get it resolved quickly and he’ll be able to join us for tomorrow’s adventures.”
Steam begins to fill the small room, and since I know my mother well, I speak again before she gets another chance. “My shower’s running, so I’m gonna go, but I’ll see you at the dock later.”
“Okay, mija. We’ll see you. Tell Jonas we said hi.”
“Absolutely. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
When I get out of the shower, the mirror is fogged up from top to bottom, and if I don’t get some air in the next second, I might pass out.
I rip the towel from the counter, but in my haste, the clothes I had sitting there plop down onto the shower floor.
I drop my head back, blowing a breath up to the ceiling, but there’s no fresh air left to inhale.
I drape the towel around my body, crack the bathroom door, and let the cool air hit my face.
With my head hanging out of the room like a smoker, I listen.
When nothing other than the hum of the air conditioning and the tropical birds outside sounds, I call out.
“Jonas?”
No answer.
I push the door open, peeking around the room, finding the coast is still clear.
For a split second, I wonder if I did, in fact, have my fake boyfriend’s thigh caught between my legs like a boa constrictor and now he’s hiding from me…
or worse, ditched me. When I spot his suit still hanging in the closet and his rows of shoes that line the floor, I quickly banish the thought.
Focus.
Without hesitation, I pad across the suite, the tile cool under my feet. I make it halfway to the dresser before the front door swings open, freezing me mid step.
Holy fucking leg tattoo.
I don’t have time to be embarrassed that I’m standing here in nothing but a towel when I realize my jaw has detached itself from the rest of my body and is now resting on the floor.
Jonas’s chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath he takes.
His tongue swipes along his bottom lip, and I stare for a beat too long.
A drop of sweat catches my attention as it trickles a slow, lazy path over the large planes of his pecks, down his abs, and disappears into the extremely low waistband of his running shorts.
His running shorts that cling to every curve of muscle in his Viking legs.
I knew Jonas was attractive when I first saw him in the airport, but this version of him steals the breath from my lungs and makes me yearn for some sort of friction between my legs.
My skin heats, despite the artificial air blowing on my bare skin, when a slow smile pulls at the corners of his lips because fuck, I’ve been caught staring.
I tighten and adjust my hold on the towel while forcing myself to swallow.
“If this is your new look, I could be into that,” he drawls.
My legs feel like Jell-O beneath me, and my brain must short-circuit because I say the only thing I can think of. “Same.”
His biceps flex as he runs a hand through his messy hair, before a laugh ripples through the space.
And dear god, that laugh is somehow sexier than all eight of his abs.