Page 65 of The Sailor in Polynesia
“Me too.”
We said our goodbyes. Jonas went back to his crew and I rejoined my family.
* * *
James had a work dinner, and instead of spending time with my family—I loved them very much, but after almost a week I was exhausted—I opted to stay at James’s house and watch Netflix, another Stateside treat.
In the middle of a fluffy rom-com movie, I’d texted Jonas.
Are you around?
He hadn’t answered, so James came home to find me on the couch working through a second movie—one that had me pulling in a box of tissues.
“What are you watching?”
I sniffed and blew my nose, pausing the movie so the title popped up.
James rolled his eyes. “No thank you. I’m going to bed.”
He climbed the stairs, leaving me with my sob-fest on the couch, but a few minutes later my phone pinged.
Just got back from dinner. Are you still up?Jonas texted.
Yes, want to talk?
I hurried to turn off the TV and make it to my room. I flopped down on the bed just as the phone rang, but not a voice call, a video call. I looked around quickly and sat on my bed, fluffing some pillows and straightening my tank top. I clicked accept, and there was Jonas, settling into my bed, on my pillow, with the trappings of my home behind him.
He smiled at me.
“Where did you go to dinner?”
Jonas told me about friends he had made in the marina, more sailors passing through, a family on a catamaran, and sundowners that had turned into potluck.
I smiled while he yawned and stretched, the sheet slipping down his chest and pooling at his waist. “I like seeing you in my bed.”
Jonas turned his head and smirked at me. “I like being in your bed. It smells like you and is soft and warm.”
“Memory foam.”
“It is better than memory foam. It is you.”
My eyes slipped down his torso while he set up a pillow for his head and lay sideways. The sheet dipped dangerously low, showing an edge of hip and lean abs. “Are you naked in my bed?”
Jonas lifted his head and looked at me, surprised. “No.” He was quiet for a moment. “Would you like me to be?”
I leaned back against the headboard and propped the phone on my knees. In the picture-in-picture, I could see my bottom lip disappearing between my teeth. “Yes.”
Jonas sat up quickly, his phone falling flat against the bed, and I could barely see a hand, an elbow, the sheets, a wild scramble until Jonas returned, wide-awake and smiling. “Now I am naked for you.”
Jonas was still holding the camera at such an angle that I could only see the top of his chest. He quirked an eyebrow at me. “You too?”
I grinned and put my phone down, stripping out of my clothes and sliding under the covers. When I picked up the phone again, I was on my side, the sheet tucked in under my arms and covering my naked body.
Jonas tsk-tsked when he saw me. “Sexy and beautiful but not naked.”
“Speak for yourself.”
With one hand, Jonas reached past the camera, and though I couldn’t see anything beyond his forearm, his body tensed and a quick inhale of air passed his lips.
