but it’s not smart. You need time. I need a little of my own, after all I shared tonight. The first time we share a bed, Simone, I do not want the ghost of my ex in it.”
That had me pouting because he was right.
“Fine, be logical, but I’m stealing one of your T-shirts, and you’re tucking me in.” I grinned.
“Yes, to the T-shirt. Fuck no to the tucking in. If I see you laid out in my bed, I won’t have the fortitude to do the right thing.”
“And what about tomorrow? Will tomorrow be enough processing time to get over the doom and gloom and bitch-face?” I tucked myself against his body and ran my hands down his frame to cup his hard ass making my intentions one hundred percent clear.
His lips twitched. “Maybe.”
I smiled wide. “I love your maybe’s.”
“Mmm.” He kissed me for a long time until it started to get heated. Then he pulled away, physically turned me toward the house and smacked my ass. Hard. “Get to gettin’, woman, before I lose all control and do the exact opposite of what I promised I’d do.”
“Hey, you’re not going to get any help in that department. I want the naked time with my new hot FBI guy.”
“Simone,” he grumbled.
“All right, all right. I’m moving. Spoilsport.”
He chuckled as we went back into the house. He brought me into his room where he pulled open his drawers and pulled out a T-shirt that said Quantico on it. I promptly pulled off my shirt so I stood in only my bra and jeans and smirked. He turned around gritting his teeth, pulling out a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and white T-shirt.
Win for me.
When he was done, I was already in only his shirt and slipped back the covers.
“You sure you don’t want to join me? There’s plenty of room in this monster-sized bed.”
He stood stock still and breathed through his nose, one of his hands in a fist, the other clenched around his change of clothes.
“Suit yourself.” I shrugged and made a big deal about bending over to fluff the pillows so he’d get a nice shot of my hipster panties that were cut high at the ass to show a little cheek.
I didn’t win him joining me in the bed like I hoped, but he did tuck me in and lay a hot kiss that had me squirming and reaching for him before he pulled away, kissed my forehead, and said, “Sweet Dreams.”
I fell asleep thinking about Jonah wearing only his PJ bottoms and how I planned to enjoy removing them from his gorgeous body in the near future. Stupid Helen screwed up huge, but I’d be there for my sullen FBI guy, and it would be me he’d rush home to in order to bury his burden in something sweet one day.
The connection I felt to Jonah Fontaine was thrilling and exciting. I wanted to know everything there was to know about him. I wanted to share all my highs and lows, and the craziness that was my family by choice. I wanted to sit and eat Italian meals with his parents and maybe even one day work at the family business. This was just the start of us but what he gave me tonight about the worst experience of his life, proved that we were heading somewhere important. I felt deep in my bones that we were meant to meet that night. He was chosen to be my savior and I wondered if there was more to it.
Fate.
Destiny.
Soulmates.
I didn’t know for sure, but I knew there was a lot I’d do and risk, in order to one day be the woman that was having sweet dreams sleeping side by side with Jonah.
The next morning, I woke to the sound of incessant buzzing. Without opening my eyes, I reached my arm out and patted around on the end table until I found the culprit. Blindly, I fumbled through unplugging the offender and brought it to my chest as I slipped back into dreamland. It worked for all of a minute before the damn phone buzzed against my sternum and I groaned, opened my scratchy eyes, and looked blearily at the thing.
My fucking sisters.
All of them texting me as if it were their job. Apparently, you don’t forget to check in with them for a full day when a madman is after you.
I sighed, pushed up to leaning against the headboard, and started to go through the list.