Читать книгу Break of Day - Andie J. Christopher - Страница 10

Chapter 3

Jonah didn’t know why he couldn’t stop poking at her. Women usually found him charming, considered him a delight. Hell, Lola Hernandez had practically adopted him over the past few months. But Lola’s great niece got under his skin, and he couldn’t help himself but try to make her mad.

Maybe it had something to do with how her cheeks reddened every time he said something to her. It made him wonder if her ass cheeks had freckles. He’d give up the righteously good meal in front of him to find out. And he was a man serious about food.

He didn’t even have the excuse of trying to protect Lola from getting screwed over by her own family. If Lola trusted Carla, she was probably right to.

He should apologize, finish his dinner, and go up to his room. But he wanted to irritate the lovely redhead as much as her presence irritated him.

“You said you were working on a book, didn’t you?” Carla returned his stare, arching one eyebrow. “You’ve been hanging out at the house all day. Don’t you have to go take pictures or something?”

“I didn’t have anything set up today.” That was a lie. He’d been planning to go out until Carla showed up. After that, something kept him there. Something redheaded. He wondered if she tasted like strawberries. Or maybe something savory like caviar. Just asking the question in his head made him feel nuts.

He pushed away from the table so abruptly that the heavy wood scraped against the floor. Liquids in glasses sloshed and he felt his skin flush from embarrassment. A familiar feeling due to his size. Until he’d started playing football as a junior in high school, his size had been a disadvantage. It had made kids his own age scared to play with him. Now, seeing the look of horror on Carla’s face he was brought right back to being the sophomore in high school with no friends. He hated that, and he projected that hatred back on her.

He grunted an excuse, or what Lola might understand as an excuse, and went upstairs.

* * * *

“He’s weird,” Carla said. “Are you sure it’s safe for you to be alone with him?”

Lola glared at her. “I think he’s perfectly wonderful. Sort of like having a pet grizzly around the house.”

“Grizzlies like to maul and kill things.” They were also hairy, and thinking of hair on Jonah’s body rubbing against her skin, rubbing it raw, wasn’t likely to drag her mind out of the gutter. Her skin pricked up as though he’d touched her.

Once they’d finished eating, Carla helped Lola with the dishes. Jonah might think she was a spoiled brat, but she had manners. Lola’s television didn’t have any good channels, so Carla kissed her aunt on both cheeks, feigning tiredness. Maybe she would read. More likely, she would lie in her bed, wondering what Jonah was doing or thinking alone in his room. She’d inevitably ponder his degree of nakedness, which would make her conscious of her own nakedness—little that there would be—and then she’d be right back at the body hair. She should have paid more attention to that and less attention to his thighs when he opened the door. Had she known she would hate him so much, she would have been more critical of his looks. If she’d predicted she wouldn’t likely see him naked again, she would have been more fastidious about committing every facet of his physicality to memory.

Jonah’s room was to the left of the stairs like hers. Lola had made sure to tell her where Jonah was sleeping, to make sure she knew that she wouldn’t be able to avoid him in the mornings. When she walked past, she felt as though the sliver of light reaching from under the door would burn her skin. She hopped over the crack of light between the door and the jamb, careful to only let it graze her leg.

She knew she was being silly, but it amused her, and she wanted to allow herself to be amused. Just for a little bit.

Leaving Miami had allowed her to shed a layer of something she hadn’t even realized she was wearing. During her engagement, all of her natural whimsy and sense of adventure had disappeared under a nearly invisible coat of fake perfection. As soon as Geoff had dumped her, her façade had come unzipped down the back. Every day she felt less stymied by the need to be someone she wasn’t. Although she sometimes ached with embarrassment and the realization that she would likely see her sister have babies before her, she felt more like herself than she had in ages.

Once she got to her room, she removed her dress and hung it up. The air was still sticky, but the breeze from the open French doors, which overlooked Lola’s garden, felt like heaven against her skin. She pulled one of her most luxurious negligees, one she’d planned on wearing on her honeymoon, out of her suitcase and felt it floating against her body.

She stood in front of the French doors, and her thoughts immediately went back to how naked Jonah would be. Would he have his boxer briefs off? Would his skin be pale underneath his underwear, or would he have found a way to sunbathe in the nude? Maybe he just hung out naked in the garden every day when Lola went out for chess or sex or groceries? Perhaps that was why he was so angry when she showed up? He didn’t want her interrupting his naked sunbathing time.

The presence of carpenters, electricians, and plumbers would screw up his daily agenda even more. That’s probably why he was so mad that she was going to be doing work on the place. It was really the only explanation that made any sense at all. The thought of him naked made heat flow through her veins.

She grabbed one of the books her sister had sent along with her. Unfortunately, it was a romance novel, and she was concerned that she wasn’t disciplined enough to not think about having sex with Jonah while reading the steamy parts. Since she couldn’t just download something by one of those fussy literary writers who only think terrible sex has artistic merit, she would just have to risk it.

She made herself at home, propped up against the largely collapsed pillows and worn duvet. It appeared that her sister’s reading taste tended towards sheiks and secret babies. Not something Carla would ordinarily pick up. Her reading habits had tended more and more toward ludicrous erotic situations as her relationship with Geoff had aged and meandered toward its doomed end.

She particularly liked one featuring a priest and a naughty penitent.

Just thinking about that book had her abdomen going liquid. It also had her wondering if priests could have long hair. After all, Jesus could have rocked a man-bun just as well as Jonah. He actually looked a lot like Jesus. And he’d look great in a crisp black shirt and that white collar. Everyone would want to confess to him. Carla would most certainly get on her knees. All he’d have to do is give her a look that said she didn’t feel sorry enough, and she’d drop down on the hard, cold sanctuary floor. She jerked just imagining how it would feel to prostrate herself before Father Jonah.

She had to stop thinking about Jonah in a cassock. First of all, they probably didn’t even make them in his size. Any of the factory-issued collars would snap right off his massive neck.

No, it would be better—or at least more realistic—to envision him naked. Thinking of him lying on the bed down the hall, his cock resting on his belly, had her hand creeping into her panties.

If there were a contest for the world’s most efficient masturbator, she would have won the title during her second year with Geoff, about six months after he’d stopped being interested in sexing her up. At the time, she’d thought it was a temporary lull. Still, she’d thrown herself into the project of self-pleasure just as she’d thrown herself into interior decorating, and mortuary science before that, and party planning even before that.

And now she was good at it. Her skill and the fact that, despite his plethora of faults, Jonah turned her libido into hyperdrive made sure she was wet and on the verge of coming before she’d even gotten her tongue on him in her fantasy. That wouldn’t do.

She wondered if he liked boys, too. Maybe just a little. She’d love to see him kissing that bartender she’d dated for a week right before she’d met Geoff. She’d never had a threesome before, but the idea of Jonah’s huge, hard body against Toby’s lean, blond surfer’s physique worked for her.

The idea really worked because all she needed was a lick of Jonah’s cock before settling in to watch. Toby had been all talk about getting her the kind of threesome she’d actually be interested in, but now that dirty talk was paying off. In her fantasy Toby swallowed Jonah’s cock while Carla fingered herself. One would think that, in her fantasy, she’d want to be right between them. But she liked Jonah looking at her as if she was an interloper. She liked the idea that he would scowl at her while Toby deep-throated him.

She came when, in her mind, Jonah threw back his head in pleasure. The only time he stopped staring at her through the whole thing.