Page 15 of Susie's Orc

This time, I believe the regret on his face. I believe it so much that I kiss him again. Jonah lets out a low, approving growl and tightens his hold on my hair, my ass, pressing me tightly enough against him to feel his cock straining into the vee of my thighs.

When we come up for air again, we’re both clinging to each other, breathless and bright eyed and so utterly inappropriate to be doing this in a closet at work.

Jonah must realize it too, because he sets me slowly back down on my feet, keeping his hands braced at my waist until he’s sure I can stand on my own. Which is kind of questionable right now, given the wobbly state of my knees. When I’m steady, he leans down and presses his forehead against mine.

“Do you believe me now?”

“Maybe. You might have to work a little harder to convince me, though. Maybe a round two where you don’t leave right when things are getting interesting?”

Jonah laughs. “Are you free tonight?”

I shake my head. “I volunteer on Monday nights with the Paranormal Advancement Society. Tomorrow?”

“I’m out of town visiting family starting tomorrow. I’ll be home on Friday night, though.”

That’s a bummer. And somehow feels a little too reminiscent of him having a super convenient excuse to run his sexy ass out of my apartment.

“I swear,” Jonah says, laughing again and reaching for the phone in his pocket. “I can show you my boarding pass if—”

“Alright, alright, I believe you. And I’m free Friday.”

God, I sound eager. Too eager, probably, but Jonah doesn’t seem to mind as he leans down and kisses me again.

“Then it’s a date.”

Chapter 7

Jonah

“Hey! Earth to Jonah. Anyone home?”

The blur of a green hand waving in front of my face snaps me out of the thousand-yard stare I’d been stuck in, eyes fixed on the distant horizon of rolling green hills and sunset, thoughts a few thousand miles away back in Washington.

Gemma, owner of said green hand, plops into the seat next to mine on the wide back porch of the house we’ve spent all day filling with boxes and furniture.

“Sorry,” I mutter, shaking off the last of my distraction. “Need help with something inside?”

She shakes her head. “Nah. We’re good for today. Dad’s working on dinner and mom and Kasey are discussing what color we should paint the guest room.”

Gemma clasps her hands behind her head and lets out a satisfied sigh. After the long day we’ve had, I’m in complete agreement with the sound.

The evening offers a bit of quiet reprieve after how busy the whole day has been. Friends and family from around the village have been popping in and out all day, bringing food to fill the fridge or helping to carry furniture or just stopping by to offer their well wishes and congratulations.

It’s one of the things I miss most about living here, the way everyone comes together to mark special occasions like one of their neighbors moving into a new home, babies being born, weddings celebrated with the entire clan. All the milestones that make up a life are commemorated by the whole community.

I still love the life I’ve built for myself in Seattle, but it’s hard not to feel that wave of nostalgia, longing, and homesickness on a day like today.

“Thanks again for being here,” Gemma says, and a pinch of regret settles itself in my chest.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

She arches a brow. “You flew all the way across the country and took time off from your job. Saying thanks is the least I could do.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

That brow of hers arches even higher. “Of course it is. You know how proud we all are of you for what you’ve accomplished.”

I’m aware.

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