by Dawn Atkins
Jonah cupped her head and broke off the kiss to study her face. “You doing okay?”
“I’m doing great.” She was determined to be. She didn’t dare stop or think or look down. “Take me to bed,” she said. “Now.”
He sucked in a breath as if he’d been socked with sudden pleasure. “You got it.” He swung her into his arms.
Alarm shot through her. She was off the ground, under his power. He could carry her anywhere.
Jonah saw her expression and set her back down. “Better?”
She nodded.
“You set the pace. Fast or slow, it’s your call. You want to stop, we stop.”
“Okay.” Jonah understood what she faced. He was the perfect man to help her prove to herself she was no longer Barrett’s victim. He held the door for her and she stepped inside, her heart racing but full of hope, her body trembling but eager. This was her moment. She was going for it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BE CAREFUL WITH HER, Jonah reminded himself, closing the door behind them. No sudden moves. She’d been terrorized by a man who was supposed to love her, so Jonah had to be certain she welcomed every kiss, every touch. CJ trusted him. He’d die before he’d make her sorry she had.
In the heat of the moment, he’d hefted her sweet body into his arms, but then saw right away it was too much for her.
Inside, CJ kissed him hard, digging her fingers into his back, as if to convince herself she wanted this, then yanked him toward his bed, that determined glint in her eye.
She was acting like this was a challenge—a walk over hot coals or a triathlon—which wasn’t exactly his preferred approach, but he was too far gone to raise an objection.
In his room, he threw back the covers and she dropped onto his bed. He gave her a quick kiss, then ducked into the bathroom, praying he still had condoms in his kit. There. A strip of three. Hoping they weren’t past their use-by date, he set them on the headboard ledge and lay down to one side of CJ.
She was so pretty, lying on his pillow, her pale hair a filmy halo against the blue cloth. Then he noticed her eyes were jumpy. “Second thoughts? Because we can—”
“No.” She grabbed him by the neck and kissed him hard.
He broke off. “This isn’t a test. It’s supposed to be fun.”
She cupped his face in her small hands, delicate and strong at the same time. “You’re right.” She blew out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe I’m really here.”
“You are,” he said, kissing one of her palms. “I’ve dreamed of you a lot. I know the difference.” He leaned down to kiss her amazing lips. They were even softer than they looked. She tugged at his tongue, coaxing him deeper. Lust surged through him. He wanted her naked. He wanted inside her.
Easy, cowboy. You gave her the reins. No fair taking them back.
He reached both hands under the thin cotton of her shirt to brush the smooth underside of her breasts. She moaned softly. He wanted to take them fully in his hands, kiss them, run his tongue around the nipples, but he made himself stay put.
To his surprise, she grabbed his hands and put them dead center on her breasts. He cupped their impossible softness, ran his thumbs across her nipples. They tightened and she shivered.
“Too much?” he asked near her ear.
“No, no. Just…my top…off.” She squirmed to get at the hem of her shirt. He helped her pull it off, then removed his own.
The sight of her naked to the waist in his bed was better than any dream of her he’d conjured. “You are so beautiful,” he said, then took one of her nipples between his lips, pressing it against the roof of his mouth.
CJ shuddered, then moaned, rocking her hips as she would if he were inside her.
Stay with her. Don’t lose control. She arched her back, offering more of her breast to him. He took it, tugging the nipple deeper.
She lifted her hips, making room for him to reach inside the elastic of her shorts to grab both sides of her ass. “Ohh,” she moaned, tightening her butt muscles beneath his palms, bucking up against him, her eyes hazy with lust.
When she stopped to try to take off her bottoms, he helped her, uncovering a pretty triangle of straw-colored curls. He widened his fingers over her hips, stroking her trembling belly with his thumbs.
She inhaled sharply and pushed up onto her elbows.
“This okay?” he asked, aching for more, but determined to hold back.
CJ nodded, her eyes glazed, chest heaving.
Jonah widened the circles until his thumbs grazed her cleft, one after the other, watching her face. Her eyes glazed, her lips parted and she gasped out, “More…”
He slid his thumb over her slick and swollen lips, then slipped a finger inside her. She gave a tremendous gasp, bucked faster, then froze, crying out as her climax burst upon her. That nearly sent him over the edge, but he stayed with her through her release.
When she stilled, unleashing a shuddering breath, he kissed his way up her stomach.
“I’m sorry it happened too fast,” she said.
“It happened just right,” he said, kissing her throat.
CJ shook her head. “You’ve still got pants on.”
“That’s easy to fix.” He took them off, tore open the condom, put it on and moved to her, dying to feel her tighten around him, to move with her, to rock to the top and over with her.
He rose over her, weight on his elbows, leaned down to kiss her, but her face was tense.
“There’s no hurry,” he said, rolling to one side. Oh, yes there is, his body bellowed.
“I want you to do it. Now. Please.” She pressed his backside with both palms and closed her eyes against him. Was she gritting her teeth?
No. Not like this. She was gone, locked in memories of the man who’d hurt her. The last thing she wanted was sex. He felt sick for her.
“That’s plenty for tonight.” Jonah kissed her forehead, frustration tight in every muscle. He did his best to hide it.
CJ’s eyes flew open. “But we’re not done.... You didn’t…”
“I did plenty.”
“But it was just me.”
“And you were amazing. I had a great time.”
“That can’t possibly be true.”
He looked into her eyes. “Do I want more? Yeah. But not when you’re forcing yourself to take your medicine. You have to want it, too.”
“I do want it.” She bit her lip. “I got lost. I’m sorry.” Her eyes were shiny with tears and regret.
“We’ll try again when you’re ready. It’s okay.”
* * *
BUT IT WASN’T okay. It never would be. Cara knew that, her heart sinking and sinking. When Jonah had climbed on top of her, she’d seen Barrett and felt small and scared and powerless. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”
To his credit, Jonah didn’t flinch at her words. “Sure you will.”
No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t bear to look at him again. She had to leave. How many times could she apologize to the man? Cara grabbed her tank top and yanked it over her head. It was inside out, but she didn’t care.
She was so ashamed. She’d used Jonah and left him frustrated. So selfish. So mean. She patted the sheets for her shorts.
Jonah caught her arm. “Don’t run off. Lay here and catch your breath. I’ll hold you.” He looked so good with the moonlight glinting off the curves and planes of his face and chest, making his tousled hair shine and his dark eyes glow. “No fun
ny stuff, I swear.”
Cara would love to lie against him, let him wrap himself around her, but it wouldn’t be fair. He would want more. He deserved more. She’d tried to be normal and failed miserably. “I can’t. I have to go.” She found her shorts and stepped into them.
Jonah pulled on his jeans.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Walking you home.”
“Please don’t. I feel bad enough already. I basically used you.”
“If that’s being used, sign me up.”
“It’s not right.” Cara looked down to slip into her flip-flops and when she glanced up, Jonah stood before her.
“You have no reason to feel bad.” He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. “You need time, that’s all.”
He was being kind. She gave him a quick kiss. “Good night, Jonah.”
As she ran to the café, she could smell Jonah on her skin—his cologne, his shop, him. She remembered how he’d looked at her, held her, touched her.
You need time, that’s all.
But it wasn’t that simple. She knew that now. She couldn’t forget Barrett. He’d poisoned intimacy for her, possibly forever. If she couldn’t get past that with a kind, patient man like Jonah, what hope did she have?
The minute she came through the door, she heard someone crying softly. Beth Ann. Her heart in her throat, she hurried to her daughter, who sat in the beanbag chair, clutching Bunny.
Cara dropped to her knees. “What’s wrong?”
“I had a bad dream. I looked…for you…but you…were…gone.” She gulped breaths between words.
“I’m so sorry.” Cara leaned in to hug her daughter, but Beth Ann pulled back and brushed away her tears, refusing Cara’s comfort.
“I should have left a note. I was…talking to Jonah,” she said. Beth Ann hadn’t waked from a bad dream in two years, but Cara should have considered the possibility. How could she have been so thoughtless?
“I’m tired now.” Beth Ann pushed up out of the chair. Besides Bunny, she also held the puzzle box Jonah had helped her make, which seemed an odd item to bring her comfort.
In her room, Beth Ann put the box on her nightstand, got into bed with Bunny and turned her back to Cara. In the moonlight, Bunny’s one eye gleamed in accusation.
“I’m sorry I scared you. I would never leave you. You know that, right?” But Cara had left her. After Barrett attacked her, she’d been in a coma for five days, in the hospital for ten. The therapist had said Beth Ann likely felt hurt and angry at Cara for abandoning her.
Beth Ann had always refused to talk to Cara about what happened and she’d barely spoken to the therapist.
Maybe this time…
Cara took a deep breath. “I know you were scared when I was in the hospital. That was a terrible experience for you, so it stuck with you. When you couldn’t find me, you probably felt that way again. Scared and mad at me, too.” She paused. “That’s natural. That’s how anyone would feel.”
Cara waited for Beth Ann’s reply. Please talk to me. Let me help you.
But Beth Ann hugged Bunny tighter and scooted closer to the wall, the message clear. Bunny she could count on. Her mother…not so much.
Cara’s eyes burned with unshed tears. She felt hollow inside. Her top priority was to protect Beth Ann, keep her safe, make her feel as secure as possible in their unstable life. Instead, she’d left Beth Ann alone to cry in the dark. And why? So she could have sex. As far as priorities went, sex was so far down the list it didn’t deserve a number.
What kind of mother did that? The one time Beth Ann had looked for her, Cara wasn’t there. Cara longed for her daughter to trust her with her sorrow, her fear, her confusion. Instead, Cara had given her even more reason to be a brave soldier, hiding her hurt away. How could she repair this rip in the fragile gauze of their relationship?
Beth Ann came first. She’d forgotten. Furthermore, she’d let down her guard about the danger they were in, telling Jonah too much about their situation. He knew she was running from her ex-husband. He knew Beth Ann’s real name.
The longer they stayed here, the more likely they would be discovered. Highway travelers stopped at the café every day. The billboard would bring in even more. Barrett’s investigators could be prowling the highways, showing their pictures at gas stations, motels, restaurants.
All it took was one careless word and Barrett would find them.
Cara pushed down the panic, vowing to be more careful, more watchful, and to stay out of Jonah’s bed…and his warm and tempting arms.
* * *
JONAH WOKE EARLY in a bed that smelled…pink, and found himself grinning. He couldn’t wait to see CJ. She’d be uncertain, but he’d tell her how sexy she was, that she could take all the time she needed, that he’d loved every minute they’d spent together.
She just needed time. Together, they’d replace her bad memories with good ones—kind of like she’d done for him with the rocking chair.
Jonah showered, dressed and headed early to the café. He would make French toast for her. She’d like that. Remembering her, how she’d felt under his fingers, the way she’d moved, her cries of pleasure, made him so hard he had to stop and adjust himself before starting for the café.
The sun had barely lit the sky and the air still felt cool as he strode across the lot, his heart thudding in his chest.
He smelled pecan rolls and knew she’d beat him up. Sure enough, she was pulling rolls from the oven, wearing a sexy white blouse and tight pants and he wanted to back her into the pantry and pick up where they’d left off. “You’re up early,” he said, smiling in advance.
She set down the tray and turned to him. She looked exhausted, her face gray, her blue eyes cloudy.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just tired.” She gave him that awful fake smile.
“You have nothing to feel bad about. Last night was—”
“A mistake. These rolls need frosting.” She tried to get past him, but he blocked her way.
“No, it wasn’t. Next time—”
“There won’t be a next time,” she said, escaping him to grab the pastry bag. She squeezed, but nothing came out, so she banged the bag on the counter. “What’s wrong with this?” She was shaking.
“Give it here.” He cleared the plug, then handed it back.
“Thank you.”
“What the hell happened? You weren’t this upset when you left last night.”
CJ frosted a roll before answering in a low voice, “When I got back, my daughter was sobbing in the living room. She woke from a bad dream and couldn’t find me.”
“Rosie was there. She wasn’t alone.”
She jerked her gaze to his, her eyes wet. “She wanted me. Her mother. And I wasn’t there. I let her down.”
“You had no way to know she’d wake up.”
“That’s not the point. I was so caught up in…what we were doing…that I forgot about her. She needed me for once and I wasn’t there. I broke her trust.”
Jonah couldn’t stand to see her so upset. “You get to have a life, CJ. Bunny wouldn’t begrudge you that. She’s pretty sturdy.”
“No, she’s not. She puts on an act. You have no idea how fragile she is, how vulnerable.” She took a sharp breath. “I have to focus on her, watch over her, watch out for her. That’s my job.”
She was eating her guts out over this. Her daughter already felt too much pressure.
“The last thing she needs is for you to hover over her more. It already weighs on her.”
She homed in on him. “She told you that?”
“She says she likes being in my shop because you’re not there worrying about her like you do in the café.”
CJ looked like she’d been punched.
When would he learn to keep his mouth shut? “Forget I said anything.”
“No. I should know that. I’m glad she confided in someone.” But her cheeks had red blotches and she kept blinking. He’d hurt her. She squeezed the bag hard, making a huge blob on the roll below her.
Jonah picked up the other bag and started squirting. How could he fix this? Not with words. He’d done enough damage with them already. Trying to reassure her, he’d made her feel like a bad mother. He wrote ass in frosting on the roll.
How many times had he hurt Suzanne like that or worse? Tried to comfort her, but made her cry harder. Or gave her space when she was desperate for company. Then there was Evan. He’d fumbled with him, too, made him defensive, pushed him closer to the edge. The biggest threat to my sobriety is my own brother.
He’d stepped crosswise with Rosie, too, telling her to quit living in the Eddie Underhill Memorial Museum and get a life, meet men, visit friends, only to have her stop talking to him for days.
When it came to emotions, he was at sea. Like his dad, who’d shut down totally when his wife walked out. Jonah did the same with the miscarriage and Suzanne—shut down, backed away from her grief.
Maybe Rosie and Evan were right. Maybe he should move to New York. He wasn’t doing much good sticking around.
CJ was right not to sleep with him, but not for the reason she claimed. If they got involved, she would expect more from him. It was only natural. And he would let her down, hurt her worse. Better to quit while they were ahead.
