His eyebrow hiked as his lips turned up in an amused smirk. “What’s up?”

  “Jonah Kincade, I would rather cornrow every blade of grass in my backyard than spend the night anywhere with you.”

  “That hurt my feelings,” he said, hand splayed over his heart to underscore his point.

  “Good.”

  Jonah looked at me, pride apparent in his eyes, and smiled. He grinned like I’d just made his day, and I didn’t know why that made me feel so giddy inside.

  “Glad to hear you talking your shit again,” he said softly, before he caught me off guard and pressed his lips to my temple.

  Giddiness touched every fiber of my being.

  “You sure you don’t need me?”

  I nodded jerkily but tried again and got it right. “I’m sure. I have a crossword puzzle waiting on me and four weeks of wrestling recordings to catch up on.”

  Staring at me closely, he read my face to make sure I wasn’t lying and gave a slight nod while licking his lips. Then he turned and exited the kitchen, creating a gaping hole where his presence usually resided.

  He called to me once he reached the door.

  “Check that other bag when you’re done eating.”

  I frowned and looked over at the paper bag on my kitchen counter, realizing for the first time he hadn’t unpacked it.

  “What is it?” I wanted to know.

  “You’ll see after you eat.” Then he winked.

  Jonah Kincade winked at me, and my whole world didn’t shift on its axis—it stopped altogether. Arrested all the air in my lungs and made me feel like all my senses were in disarray.

  “Okay,” I finally squeaked.

  “Enjoy your night, E.” His voice was so hypnotizing and comforting.

  What was this witchcraft? And why didn’t I hate it?

  Before I could contemplate it for too long, he was out the door, back in his truck and pulling out of my driveway.

  When I finished my food, I put the leftovers in the fridge and hurried over to the other bag.

  There were two gift-wrapped items and two envelopes.

  A bottle of strawberry lemonade was messily wrapped, making me giggle as I tore the paper off.

  The next thing was a bag of watermelon Sour Patch Kids. “Why the hell did he wrap these?”

  Probably to get that goofy ass smile on your face that you’re rocking right now.

  For once, the voice in my head didn’t make me shudder.

  Jonah had absolutely done a piss-poor job of wrapping two of my favorite things just to get this reaction out of me. Here I was, home alone, grinning at the simplest gesture just because of the effort behind it.

  Next, I plucked the envelopes from their resting places and opened the one with “1” written on the front.

  Jonah’s handwriting was just as messy as his gift wrapping and just as endearing.

  You should call your brother. I’m sure he would love to hear your voice.

  Even if it’s just for five minutes.

  A wave of guilt crashed into me, the weight of what he left unwritten hitting harder than the message itself.

  Derrick was not someone who liked to be on the phone, for any reason.

  He was as cut and dry as a human could get, but he was my flesh and blood, and I loved him.

  It made me wonder how much he’d asked about me to prompt Jonah to leave this note.

  Zoned out, I flipped the card over in my hand a few times before moving onto the next one.

  Text Devyn. I think she misses you.

  Opening the Sour Patch Kids, I pulled out my phone and prepared to do my “homework” assignments.

  It felt better than I thought, talking to my brother and catching up with Devyn through text.

  Neither of them made me feel a way about disappearing and then popping back up. All they did was tell me how happy they were to hear from me. I’d never heard Derrick’s voice sound so animated.

  And Devyn had texted me ten times in a row after I sent one message that said hello. She still hadn’t stopped texting me, and I still hadn’t stopped grinning at my phone.

  I needed those interactions more than I thought.

  Further proof that Jonah Kincade was an earth angel in disguise.

  He was gently nudging me out of isolation mode, and I didn’t know if I would ever be able to thank him for it. I’d convinced myself that no one would notice if I disappeared for a while, but in his own way, he was proving me wrong.

  Week four

  4. ERICKA

  How—the fuck—had we gotten here?

  My eyes took a leisurely trip to the back of my head before I could really process that question.

  Brand new fishnets ripped.

  Car windows foggy.

  His deep, throaty moans acting as a prelude to my whimpers. The combination of sounds was enough to make my eyes roll again as he lifted his hips and pounded me from below.

  My thighs burned from the effort it took to bounce on the best dick that had ever graced the good Lord’s earth.

  Here’s the thing: the man up under me could go to hell. As long as he didn’t take his dick with him.

  Jonah Kincade was not my type.

  But his dick? Absolutely yes.

  I’d lay down my pride and gladly praise it any day of the week.

  I kid you not.

  All eight inches of it deserved a plaque. An award. A national holiday.

  His fingers dug into my hips with a punishing grip as he held me still and pistoned in and out of me like my pussy owed him something.

  Shit, maybe it did. And I was willing to pay the price if it meant he kept fucking me.

  He let one hand drop away from my hip and used it to forcibly grip my jaw and angle my head to his liking. My back was to his chest, so now I was looking over my shoulder.

  And my eyes slid open just in time to see his lips lift in an insufferable smirk. The smooth timbre of his voice gifted my ears next.

  “You ready to apologize yet?”

  “N-no, fuck you,” I stuttered as sensation after sensation began to rocket through me.

  “That’s what I’m doing, love. And you’re taking it so well.” He licked from my jaw down to my neck and kept fucking in and out of me. “As well as I always knew you would.”

  Up until then, his hold had been acting as a harness, keeping me suspended just above his lap while he did unspeakable things to me in the back of his car.

  But now, he released me, letting me fall so his thick dick was fully seated inside of me.

  Stretching me.

  Owning me.

  Pleasing me.

  “Fuck, you’re so tight. Don’t fucking move,” he gritted out.

  I could feel him swelling inside of me, and tantalizing tremors started rippling through me.

  Even though he’d told me to be still, he dragged me against his lap, stimulating me in new ways.

  Silence blanketed the car, save for a few grunts and groans. I didn’t know if the desperate sounds were coming from me or him. It didn’t matter because the friction was all I could focus on.

  I started doing kegels when he bit down on my shoulder, and he lost it. So did I.

  Grinding.

  Grunting.

  Coming.

  Shit, I was coming.

  And there was nothing I could do about it.

  Nothing I wanted to do about it.

  I came all over his dick.

  Whimpering.

  Gasping.

  Praying.

  Yes, praying.

  Because there was no need for him to feel this good. And I needed the man upstairs to do me a solid and protect me from the spirit of addiction that was ready to take root in my soul.

  Holy shit. God really did give the best dick to the most devilish men.

  I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near it. But tonight had already gone as wrong as it could go. What was one more thing?

  Maybe I’d wake up in the morning and realize this had all been a bad dream.

  And if not? Well, I could explain.

  “E?”

  Something firm nudged my shoulder, and I jerked awake. Shooting up from my resting place, I noticed I was on my living room sofa and Jonah was standing behind it. Staring down at me with his signature frown.

  “What?” My throat was dry as I tried to catch my breath. Who the hell woke up from a nap winded like they’d run a marathon in their sleep? That would be me.

  I kept having those damn dreams.

  It’d been a week straight now and they weren’t letting up. Did I even own a pair of fishnets? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jonah and I—

  “I need you to get dressed.”

  Looking down at the sweats I had on, I cut my eyes at him. “I am dressed. These are clean,” I pointed out defensively. While they looked like the seven other pairs I had just like it, I had put on a fresh set today.

  “No. Real clothes. I want to take you somewhere.”

  “What if I don’t want to be taken anywhere?”

  Jonah didn’t miss a beat. “If we get there and you hate it, I’ll bring you right back. I promise.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “When have I ever made you feel like you couldn’t trust me, Ericka?”

  “Never.”

  “Exactly.” He folded his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels.

  It took everything in me not to focus on the beautiful veins lining his forearms and the back of his hands. Had he worked out before coming here? Where else did he have prominent veins?

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  “Are you getting dressed or not?” He lifted a brow at me and cocked his head. “Time is money, E. Let’s go.”

  His voice stopped me again before I could get to my room, and I spun on my heel to face his question.

  “Were you having a bad dream or something?”

  My ears were hot as all hell. “Why?”

  “You were fussing at somebody. I heard you say fuck you.”

  Oh my god. He heard that?

  Embarrassed heat crept up my neck and I was thankful for the oversized fit of my hoodie.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No bad dreams.”

  Then I was speed walking into my room and resting my back against the door once I made it safely inside.

  A cold shower was in order before I went anywhere with this man.

  ◆◆◆

  “Let’s go, love,” Jonah called as he walked to the door.

  My feet were cemented in place, unmoving, as I stared at the back of him and tried to pick my jaw up from the ground.

  “What did you just call me?”

  Jonah glanced over his shoulder, his brows knitting together when he saw I hadn’t moved from my spot. “What?”

  “You just called me love. Why?”

  “I—” he hedged, shrugging. “I don’t know, E. I guess it just slipped. Can we go now?”

  “I had a dream about you.”

  “Okay?” Why did he sound so unbothered by everything?

  “I had a sex dream about you.”

  His low chuckle sent chills racing down my spine.

  “Oh, shit. Is that why you’ve been acting skittish since I got here?”

  His smile was growing wider by the second, and the wider it grew, the deeper the pit in my stomach expanded.

  “Stop making fun of me. I’m trying to be honest with you.” No one would ever say I was good at keeping secrets. Even ones I should have taken to my grave.

  It wasn’t built into my DNA. And I knew if I didn’t say something before we left, it would just eat away at me all night.

  Because, honestly, I liked having Jonah around. And the last thing I wanted was for tension to form and break the tenuous bond we were building.

  So, here I was, biting the bullet. And here he was, eating that shit up.

  That damn smile just kept getting brighter.

  “Why do you look mad?” he asked, his voice more teasing than usual. “You wanna kiss me or something?”

  “Oh, fuck you, Jonah. I do not want to kiss you right now.”

  “Oh no?” He lifted his brow. “Is that why your right fist is clenched? So you’re not tempted to touch me?” His eyes moved up. “Is that why you keep touching your neck? Because you want my lips there?”

  Slowly, I unfurled my fist and gulped.

  I didn’t even know I was touching my neck, but now that I did, I dropped my hand away and took a tentative step back.

  “Listen carefully, Ericka. When I finally have you, it won’t be to prove a petty point. It’ll be because we both want it too much to deny what we’ve known for years.”

  Jonah stepped back, and my lungs no longer felt oxygen-deprived.

  My brain was buzzing, trying to keep up with the information he’d so casually dumped in my lap.

  Have me?

  Years?

  What was he talking about?

  “Now, unless you wanna tell me the details of this dream, fix your face so we can enjoy our night.”

  Fix your face.

  Why did those three words have me reevaluating my whole life? Pinpricks of awareness ghosted over my flushed skin.

  When all I did was nod, he set off for the front door again. And this time, my feet didn’t hesitate to follow the path he took.

  Outside, I walked to the passenger side of Jonah’s Chevy pickup and hesitated when he opened the door for me.

  I couldn’t spend the night out with him like things were normal. Not when I was having wet dreams about him at every turn. And not when his mere presence was starting to feel essential.

  “I changed my mind,” I blurted, taking a step back. Back toward my house. Back toward some sanity.

  Jonah was on me in two seconds, towering over me with drawn brows.

  “Changed your mind?” His voice was calm, but I could hear the disappointment just beneath the surface.

  A tight nod was all I gave him.

  “Stop playing, E. You said it was cool.”

  “I know, but I don’t think it’s a good idea anymore.”

  He sighed heavily. It was dark outside, but the streetlights combined with the light coming from the inside of his truck revealed the conflicted emotions on his face.

  But he reined them in and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please, Ericka.”

  With the patience of a saint, he broke down the time commitment once again, told me exactly how far it was from my house, and said that we could turn around as soon as we arrived. He just really wanted to show me something.

  “What is this place?” I asked, since that was the only detail he chose to withhold.

  He licked his lips, and excitement sparked in his eyes. “That part’s a surprise.”

  “Fine. I’ll go. But say please again.”

  Eyes narrowed, he gave me a deadpan look that told me he didn’t find me funny. Which was fine because I found myself hilarious. I didn’t know when my playfulness had returned, but it was back in full swing.

  “Get in the truck, Ericka.”

  Truth be told, a good old-fashioned ‘no’ was on the tip of my tongue. But by the time it touched the air, “Make me,” came out instead.

  Jonah didn’t give me time to eat my words because I was swept off my feet in the next instant. Everything transformed into a hazy cloud. Even sounds were distorted when his hands were on me. But I could’ve sworn I heard him grumble under his breath, “Jesus Christ, why do you have to be such a fucking brat?”

  His muscled chest and torso felt like a slab of marble behind me as he held me around the waist with one arm and pulled the passenger door fully open with the other.

  The street noise of my neighborhood faded once he placed me in the front seat and proceeded to strap me into my seatbelt. He yanked a little too hard on the belt as he pulled it across my torso, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting when he clicked it in place.

  Then he slammed the door and vanished before I could fix my lips to say anything in rebuttal.

  “I guess Gentle Jonah has the night off,” I muttered, pulling out my phone and loading a puzzle app while I waited for him to get in the driver’s seat.

  We made the ride to wherever we were going in silence, but I’d be lying if I said it was awkward. I played my game, and Jonah strummed his fingers against the wheel while Luke Combs flowed through the speakers.

  And by the time we pulled up at our destination, anticipation coursed freely through my veins.

  Week four continued

  5. ERICKA

  I hated how much I didn’t hate this.

  This was the most fun I’d had in a long time. And once again, I had something to thank Jonah for. At this point, the list was never-ending.

  Gripping the crowbar with both hands, I lifted it above my head and let it come crashing down against the plate in front of me.

  Watching it shatter to the ground filled me with a peace I hadn’t felt in weeks, and I needed to recreate that feeling right away.

  Jonah placed another plate on the platform and stepped back to let me do it all over again.

  Rampage was a rage room I’d wanted to try for a long time—and I was getting to try it as the only patron. Jonah had rented the place out for the night, so I could “rage” uninterrupted.

  An hour and a half passed before I knew it.

  And by the third room, I’d settled on a bat as my weapon of choice. It was easiest to grip and caused the most destruction, no matter what I was hitting.

  I didn’t know where the stamina came from, but I didn’t stop swinging until there was nothing left to break.

  For every item placed in front of me, I imagined the hurtful text messages Aaron sent after dumping me. I thought about all the so-called friends I made at work, only for them to turn on me when I started getting too much praise. I thought about the fact that I’d let depression convince me I didn’t have anybody when in fact, I had plenty of people. My village was just small. And there was nothing wrong with a small circle when the connections were genuine.

  I crushed it all to nothing and walked away out of breath, knowing damn well I would be sore in the morning.

 

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