Page 37 of Invisible Scars
Self-loathing fills every part of me, and I burst out to the street, sucking in a lungful of fresh air.
“Need a ride?”
I spin to find Jonah leaning on his Jeep, trying to appear casual, but the tentativeness of his question paired with the worry in his eyes tells me a different story. I know I should be angry that he followed me, but all I feel is relief.
“I’d love one.” Jonah holds the Jeep door open for me, and I climb in.
The pressure in my chest makes my breathing labored, and I close my eyes, slumping back in my seat.
“I brought your glasses,” Jonah says, opening the glove compartment.
“Thank you,” I whisper, the gesture more meaningful than I can put into words. “I didn’t even get to eat my sushi.”
Jonah takes my hand in his and threads our fingers together. “I’ll take you out for sushi.”
“You hate sushi.”
“I also hate hugs.”
I snort, thinking back to all the times we’ve hugged and cuddled. All the times we’ve done more than that and how alive I feel every time I’m with Jonah. I’d give anything to feel that way now.
* * *
JONAH
Effie’s been staring out the front view window with a vacant look since we drove off, but she won’t let go of my hand.
“Hey.” I give her fingers a little squeeze. “You okay?” Effie turns her blank stare at me, then shifts it to the passenger side window. “Did she ask you to come back to New York to help with Abe?”
“No,” Effie answers with her head still turned away.
“Then what did she want?”
Effie shrugs. Her pain is palpable, and I can’t stand it, so I reach over and brush my fingers across her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear.
A breath whooshes out of her. “Jonah.”
It’s the hushed murmur that shoots straight into my chest. My heart starts racing, and I remind myself that Effie’s having a hard day, and this isn’t the time for my impure obsession to rear its head.
“Stop the car,” Effie says.
“What?”
She turns to me, her large eyes full of determination. “Stop the car, Jonah.”
I swerve onto a dirt road, still not sure what’s going on.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Do you feel sick?”
Effie shakes her head, and before I realize what’s happening, she’s straddling my lap, kissing me with fiery urgency.
“Jesus.” My hands frame her hips, steadying their rocking.
“I want you, Joe,” she pants, covering my hand with hers and guiding it under her skirt. “Feel how much I want you.”
My fingers touch the front panel of her panties, and I groan.
“Fuck, Effie, don’t do this to me.” I feather my fingers over the soaked fabric. “I’ve been dreaming of this pussy all week. Let me take you home, where I can properly fuck you.”
