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
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
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