His full, strong lips mold to mine. A slow sweep of his tongue has me opening to him. What started off teasing turns hot and urgent as he pulls my lower lip with his teeth, coaxing my tongue to explore. His hands grab at my hair and mine wrap around his biceps.
The kiss turns demanding as he possesses my mouth. His muscles flex against my palms. I struggle to keep myself on my toes, his expert mouth making my legs completely useless. I slide back down on flat feet, dragging my breasts down his chest as I go. He releases his hold on my hair and cups my bottom with his hands, pulling me against him.
My gosh, that feels good.
With what seems like great effort, he ends the kiss, gently nibbling and tasting my lower lip. His hands give me a squeeze before sliding up and resting on my lower back. He bends down and presses one last kiss on my neck before looking into my eyes.
Amazing. In this moment, after that kiss, he’s no longer Jonah “The Assassin” Slade, celebrity bad-boy. Looking at him now, he’s just Jonah.
“Don’t worry about tonight.” His words are said in a way that makes me feel like I might be more to him than a hook up. “I’d never push you further than you’re willing to go.”
My stomach twists with anxiety. He has no idea.
Eight
Jonah
After my talk with Raven in the bathroom, I have one objective—get these people out of my house. Pronto. With the taste of her still on my lips, I let the guys know that the party is over.
It’s just past ten as I wave off the last of my friends. I watch from the front porch as Raven says good-bye to Eve. The patio light illuminates her face as she laughs hard at something Eve must have said.
Damn, she’s gorgeous. I always knew she was beautiful, but getting her alone in that bathroom, her body trembling in my arms, her breathy moans, and flushed cheeks. Perfect.
And that kiss. I’m not big on kissing, never have been. But Raven’s sweet lips, so tentative at first, only to turn greedy and demanding—a few more minutes of that and I’d probably bust in my shorts like a teenage boy.
She walks toward me, her backpack slung over one shoulder, Eve’s taillights disappearing down the driveway.
“Come here.” I brush her hair aside and lean in. Before I’m there, she tilts her head, offering her throat to me. Fucking perfect. I hone in on my spot: the blackbird’s wing that peeks at the base of her neck. First, a quick press of my lips, then I part my mouth to taste her tender flesh. She hums low in her throat and leans into me.
“I like your tattoo.” My voice against her neck makes her to shiver.
“I like yours too.”
I force myself back a step. “Everything okay with your girl?”
“Yes, she’s happy I’m staying here. She hates my place, thinks it’s not safe.” She picks at the frayed strap of her backpack.
“Why is your place not safe?”
She looks up at me and rolls her eyes. “I live in a studio apartment.”
Okay. That doesn’t sound so bad.
“Where?”
She blows out a long, defeated-sounding breath. “Right by the garage.”
She shifts on her feet, and I know she’s holding something back. I tilt my head and wait. Her eyes grow a fraction. That’s right, sweetheart. I’m on to you.
“Well, actually . . .”
“I’m listening.”
“I live above the garage.” She’s back to picking at her backpack strap.
Nope. I must’ve heard that wrong. “You live above Guy’s Garage?”
She nods.
A wave of anxiety floods my body. “Raven, there’s nothing over there but warehouses and vagrants. There’s not a decent human being within a ten-mile radius after business hours.”
Thinking of her all alone at night in that part of town makes my muscles tense. My mind imagines all the things that could happen to an innocent girl in that part of town after hours. The alley behind the garage is a festering crime spot. There’s probably all manner of piece-of-shit lowlifes lurking in the shadows. I’ll never be able to sleep knowing she’s over there alone. No.
“From now on, you stay here with me,” I blurt.
Her eyes flash in shock and her lips part.
I just took this too far.
“What did you say?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
I run my hands through my hair, trying to figure out what the hell is going on in my head. I’m having a hard time believing my own words. Did I just ask her to move in with me? I want this girl, more than I’ve wanted any other girl. There’s no denying that. The protective instinct stirs in my chest, something I’ve never felt for any woman outside of my mom and sister.
“You heard me.”
“Jonah, I’m not staying with you every night. That’s absurd. You barely know me. I mean . . .” She studies me, and I can’t help but think how her confused and shocked expression adds a cuteness to her already gorgeous face.
“I just want to keep you safe, and I can’t do that if you aren’t with me.” I take a deep, steadying breath. That felt okay. Not awkward, like I thought it would. “Besides, you work on the Impala most mornings. It’ll save on gas money.” It’s a stretch, but I’m desperate—also a new feeling for me.
“That’s really sweet of you, b-but I can’t.” Her expression relaxes, and she puts her hands on her hips. “I have to feed Dog.”
This is interesting. I can’t think of a single girl, not one, who would argue with me at my offer to have them sleep in my bed. And did she say she has a dog?
“Dog?”
“Yes. Dog.” Her shoulders square off and she lifts her chin.
She thinks something like having to feed her dog is going discourage me? She needs to get to know me better, which is exactly what I plan on doing once this conversation is over.
“Bring your dog.” I shrug.
“Bring my . . . but . . . I don’t have a dog.” Her forehead pinches between her eyebrows, and I fight the desire to kiss the skin smooth.
Damn, she is really cute.
“You said you had to feed your dog.”
“Right, Dog. My cat. Well, not my cat. The cat that lives in the alley.”
I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing. “Let me get this straight. You feed an alley cat that you’ve named Dog, and that’s why you can’t stay with me.”
“Exactly.” She throws her hands out like she’s just made the point of the century.
I lose the battle against my laughter and nearly double over with it. “You’re, without a doubt, the most amusing girl I’ve ever met, Raven . . . uh . . .” I’m not going through this again. “What’s your last name?”
Her expression falls and her face goes pale. What did I say? She rolls her bottom lip into her mouth, raking it across her teeth. My laughter dies and instinctively I pull her into my arms.
“Baby? You okay?”
She exhales and wraps her hands around my waist. “I’m fine. You just caught me off guard.” Her arms grow tight as she hugs me to her. “I guess you’ll find out sooner or later.”
What the hell? What could possibly be so bad about her last name? I guess it could be Manson or Bundy.
“Morretti. My full name is Raven Morretti.” Her words are dull and lifeless.
Morretti? I look past her, squinting into the darkness. Why does that name—Holy shit!
Dominick Morretti. Las Vegas’s most infamous pimp. And her mom’s a prostitute. It all makes sense.
Not only have I seen his mug all over the news but I’ve actually met the scumbag. I’ve seen him at all our fights, working his girls. He tried to get us to throw down some cash for a night with a Morretti girl.
Raven looks nothing like him with her dark hair and olive skin, but those eyes. It’s amazing I didn’t make the connection before. The color is so unique, but, where hers are cool pools of Caribbean water, his are death by drowning. My mom always said, “The eyes are the windows to your soul,” and looking into
Dominick Morretti’s eyes, it’s pretty clear he ain’t got one.
“Jonah?” Her arms grow impossibly tighter around my waist.
She’s got to know I know who her father is. Everyone in town knows who her father is. He not only runs the biggest prostitution ring in the state, allegedly, but he also owns half the real estate in town. And she lives in a studio above a garage?
“Yeah, baby. Let’s get you inside.”
I grab her hand and lead her into the house. Not letting go, I lock the door and take her to the couch. I sit down and pull her onto my lap. She stiffens and avoids my eyes.
“Your dad is Dominick Morretti.”
Dropping her forehead, she simply nods.
I take a deep breath and look to the ceiling. “I know him, Raven. I know your dad—”
“He’s not my dad.” Her harsh glare locks on mine before her expression softens. “I mean he’s my biological father, but he’s not my dad. I don’t have a dad.”
I pull her to me, and she nestles into my chest, her arms wrap around my waist.
“Well, whatever he is to you, he’s no good. I don’t want you around him.”
She laughs humorlessly. “You don’t have to worry about that. He hasn’t wanted anything to do with me in twenty years. I doubt he ever will. I’m pretty sure whatever happened between him and my mom was a mistake . . . you know, me.” Her final words are barely audible as her voice is muffled in my chest.
Anger pushes its way through my concern for her. I place my hand under chin and force her eyes to mine. “I can’t see your life ever being considered a mistake.”
Her sad smile rips through me.
“My parents never had a relationship that I know of. I’m not close to my mom, so she’s never told me, but it’s pretty obvious they have nothing beyond, um, a professional relationship.”
Her bright eyes look away for a second as she blows a piece of long hair from her face. “Anyway, can we talk about something else now?”
Her full lips lift into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. I’m left with a million questions tumbling in my head, but I don’t want to ruin the night by bringing up painful memories of her past.
“Yes, we can.” I stare at her lips, hungry to taste them again. But there’s one thing I need to say before I can put this subject to bed. “Promise me you’ll stay away from Dominick Morretti.”
“That, I can promise.” Her eyes move down my face and settle on my mouth.
I shove both hands into her hair and bring her lips to mine. She eagerly complies, wrapping her hands behind my neck and holding me close to her. She tilts her head and our tongues slide together. Her body shifts on my lap and I moan my approval. Just days ago I thought I could walk away from her. And now, I don’t want to spend one night without her.
~*~
Raven
The marble flooring is cool under my bare feet as I stand, looking at myself in Jonah’s bathroom mirror. Something’s different. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but I know I’ve never been able to see my molars before when I smile. I have a serious case of the perma-grins.
I look down at the cotton t-shirt and sweat pants lying folded in my hands. It hits me again, with no less intensity than before, that I’m spending the night with Jonah Slade. Now my cheeks actually hurt.
Checking out his dark brown, granite counter top with double sinks and mahogany cabinetry, curiosity pushes at me. I question whether or not to snoop in his medicine cabinet. I chew on my lip, staring at the mysterious mirrored door. Just one peek won’t hurt.
I cautiously pull open the door as if something might jump out at me: deodorant, shaving cream, razor, all the typical man stuff. Grabbing his cologne, I press it to my nose and take a deep breath. My eyes almost roll back in my head at the woodsy smell that his skin has hinted at before. He never smells coated in fragrance, more like an underlying flavor that runs beneath his natural scent.
Snooping complete, I move to close the door when a gray box catches my eye. I squint and lean forward to read the label: condoms. Wow, extra-large, lubricated, jumbo pack. I slam the door shut and stare at my reflection.
“Well, what did you think you would find?” I hiss to myself. “You know his reputation.” I stand back and shrug. “You need to tell him.”
Hey Jonah, guess what? Now that you know my mom’s a hooker and my dad’s a pimp, I have one more bomb to drop on you. The V-bomb. Surely if he can look past the first two bombs that last one should be no big deal. It’s not as if I’m not open to eliminating the issue. Candy’s words come flooding back. Stupid little girl.
I push the feelings of unworthiness to the back of my brain and head for the shower. Stripping down, I hear my inner fourteen-year-old fan-girl screaming, You’re naked in Jonah Slade’s bathroom! Squee! She’s not wrong, I think while covering my mouth to stifle my laughter.
Stepping under the water, I close my eyes to enjoy the calming spray. After a minute or two, I grab Jonah’s body wash and take a deep breath. It smells like citrus and spice and man all mixed together. I wash up slowly, taking the time to enjoy being covered in his smell and nothing else. While rinsing my hair, I notice just how different our realities are. He has a rain shower head and marble tile, and all my shower boasts is mildew stains and a slow-moving drain.
After towel drying, I finger comb my hair and slide on a fresh pair of panties from my backpack. I pull Jonah’s t-shirt over my head. It’s huge and hits me just above the knees. I pull on the worn sweat pants, and they slide back down my legs. Frowning, I pull them back up and roll the top in an attempt to tighten them. Still too big. The shirt covers enough, so I ditch the pants.
Slipping out from the bathroom into Jonah’s room, I’m met with a vision that has me locked in place. He’s shirtless with his back against the headboard. His navy blue pajama pant-covered legs are crossed at the ankles, and the remote is in his hand. He exudes casual confidence.
My eyes consume his body from his colorful arms to his bulging chest and settle on his face. He’s staring at me with a hunger that charges the air between us.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” His eyes narrow on my bare legs.
“The pants were too big.” I tug at the hem of the shirt.
Silence.
“So, I decided the shirt would be long enough.”
Still silence.
“I thought it covered as much as a dress would, so—”
“You look amazing in my shirt.” I shift uncomfortably at the gravely sound in his voice. “You’re safe with me.”
I let his words wash over me as my shoulders relax and I take a deep breath.
“You want to watch some TV?” He gives me a one-dimpled smile that sucks the breath from my lungs.
Forcing my gaze to his enormous television that hangs on the wall, I step closer to see what he’s watching. “Sure. What—” I gasp and race toward it, stopping only a foot away from the screen.
“Raven—”
“That’s Chip Foose!” I point at the screen while looking back at Jonah who is smiling huge. “I’ve read about this show in Car and Driver Magazine. It’s called Overhaulin’. They take old cars from people . . .” The sound of Chip Foose’s voice calls my attention back to the show. “’57 Chevy, Bel Air, two door, hardtop,” I mumble to myself, captivated by automotive brilliance.
A pair of strong arms wrap around my waist. “Come back and sit on the bed, baby. You can watch it from there.” A hint of humor laces his words.
Flaming embarrassment. Here I get the chance to be in bed with Jonah, and I’m stuck to a television screen, watching a reality show about cars. How very sexy and feminine of me.
He pulls me a few steps backward to the bed. I don’t take my eyes off the screen as he hauls me to the headboard, tucking me into his side. My head against to his chest, I slide my hand over his bare abs and bite my tongue to keep from Oooing. His hand moves up my arm and stops to toy with my hair. I sigh in contentment, but quickly remember
the heavy weight I need to get off my chest.
“Jonah?”
“Hmm?”
“I need to talk to you about something.”
He lifts the remote, pressing a button that freezes the screen.
“I know your, um, reputation.” His body tightens beneath my cheek and his hand stills in my hair. “Nikki told me that you’ve never had a girl over. Is that true? It’s just, you’ve obviously had your fair share of, um, female companions, so I assumed—”
“Yes. It’s true. You’re the first girl I’ve had in my bed.”
I take a deep breath and try not to chicken out. “Um . . . well, there’s something you should know about me.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I can’t see his face, but his chest has stopped moving.
I squeeze my eyes shut and shove the words out. “I’m a virgin.”
Holding my breath, I bite my lip and await his reaction.
I’m not a total prude. I dated Billy Dryer, and he was the most popular kid in school. We made out a few times until he broke up with me. Guess his parents told him who my mom was, so he thought I’d be easy. I’ll never forget him trying to pull my pants down. When I refused, he said he knew I was a lesbian. A girl working on cars all day had to be gay. He stormed off and left me there under the bleachers alone. I decided I’d rather be a virgin lesbian than the slut daughter of a prostitute.
I’m tossed from my thoughts by the shaking of Jonah’s silent laughter, and my eyes pop open in surprise.
“Are you laughing?”
His reaction turns into uncontrollable hilarity, not the response I was expecting.
I push myself up and take a minute to enjoy his dimples, wide smile, and shining eyes. “What’s so funny?”
“Raven,” he says between chuckles. “You said yourself I’ve never had a girl over to my house before. Yet, here you are, in my bed, wearing my shirt, cuddled up in my arms.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “You don’t get it, do you?”
My confused face confirms that I, in fact, do not get it.
“You, Raven Morretti, are mine. Doesn’t matter if you’re a virgin or an alien. What you’ve told me changes nothing. Not. One. Thing.”
Fighting for Flight Page 8
