Page 63 of 28 Dates

We ended up not needing the heater that afternoon because he crawled into bed with me, pulled the comforter over both of us, and heated my body in a way that only skin-to-skin contact can.

I shiver at the memory, and Jonas’s hand squeezes mine. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I nod and open the door. “Just remembering one of the first times I was here.”

I grin at him, unable to stop smiling so much. Everything is shifting so quickly between us and yet it feels so perfect. All my fear from earlier with Teagan is completely gone. Perhaps the champagne she handed mewaslaced with marijuana.

I shake my head and scrub my hands together, waiting for Jonas to meet me at the curb.

“You ready?” he asks, smiling down at me and holding out his hand. I take it, slide my fingers in between his, lacing our hands together, and nod once.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

He leads me to the building, quickly punching in his code, and as soon as we’re enclosed in the entryway, heat blasting us from every direction, my back is against the wall and his lips slam down against mine. We’re in view of the street, visible to anyone who drives by or who needs to leave or enter the building, and yet it’s the last thought in my mind as my hands grip his coat and I pull him harshly against me.

Our tongues slide against each other, my hands go to the back of his head. He’s bent over me, one hand on my lower back, and then he crouches, tugs, and lifts.

“Hey!” My legs wrap around his waist, and I cling to his shoulders, gripping the back of his neck as he lifts me with surprising speed.

“I can’t wait,” he groans into my neck. “I’ve wanted this for so damn long.”

I’ve never been so glad I’m so small and he’s so strong in my life. He carries me up the stairs to the second floor, his mouth staying on my neck, my jaw, anywhere he can kiss and touch and taste while being able to watch where he’s going. My head burrows into the crook of his neck even as my hips roll at the sensations spiking through me.

God. He’s so good at all of this. Like passion and love and emotions come so naturally to him when for me they’re always such a struggle.

When we reach his door, he sets me down on my feet, keeping his hand at my lower back. I slide down slowly, feeling his hardness, even through his coat, press against my stomach.

Yes.It’s been so long, I’m already hot, my core aching for him.

He fumbles with the key, and I press my fingers to my lips, smothering a giggle.

“What?” he says. His brown eyes are glassy, showing his fervent need to get inside.

I press my hand to his cheek. “I’m glad to see I’m not the only one who’s anxious.”

“I’m not anxious.” He turns the key. The door clicks and he pushes it open.

“You’re not?” I step closer to him, sliding my hand to his chest until my body is plastered against his.

“No. I’ve been fucking wanting this to happen for seven months, and now that I finally have you back and you’re soon going to be in my bed, I’m warning you now, I might never let you leave.”

“Hmm.” I tap my finger to my lips. “Like, you might handcuff and keep me tied to your bed as your own personal sex slave?”

“Now, there’s an idea. Get inside.”

I hurry in, almost skipping on my heels, and once I’m there, the door closes behind me and Jonas is at my back. His arms reach around to my front. He unbuttons my coat, peels it from my body like we suddenly have all the time in the world.

I suppose we do. But try telling that to my racing heart and my throbbing center. All this pent-up desire I’ve had for him for so long is in danger of exploding before we make it to his bedroom.

“Jonas,” I whisper his name as his lips press against the side of my throat. He’s always joked it’s my “on” button. One tiny kiss placed right where he’s nibbling, and I’m turned on. It’s the smallest thing, and it’s all it’s ever taken with him.

I spin in his arms and press my mouth to his, hands clinging to his waist and tugging at his shirt. He needed me outside. I need himnow.He groans into my mouth, pushing me back until my back is against the door. Sliding his tongue inside, I’m already open, clinging to him and shoving his suit coat off his shoulders, my hands frantically working at his belt.

“Shit,” he whispers, pulling back. His chest heaves with every harsh breath he takes. My own is pounding just as rapidly and I can feel the rhythms of our beats even through our clothes. “I meant to take my time.”

My mouth is at his throat. Sliding across his heated flesh, my fingers finally undo his belt and the button of his pants. “Later. We can do that later.”

He curses again as I wrap my leg around his waist, my hot center against his hard bulge, and then his hand is at my thigh, sliding beneath my dress Thank the fashion gods for dresses and for pantyhose no longer being in style because his hand hits my skin, hot against cool flesh. Spikes of anticipated pleasure zing to my core, making me throb, needing him so damn badly.

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