Chapter 19
“What?”
“I was so scared.” She rubbed her palms on her thighs. “I couldn’t believe he did it.”
She bit her lip. Blurting out that secret put them both at risk.
“Nicky was hitting me, so I stabbed him and ran. I felt guilty and when I went back I saw Frank slit his throat.”
“With the same knife you used?”
She stared at her hands, and he nudged her chin up with his forefinger. She’d already said too much and involved Jonny just as Frank had predicted.
“And now Frank’s trying to pin it on you.”
She shivered and Jonny slipped his arm around her shoulders and eased her against the sofa cushions. A few hours ago he'd caught her in his private office trying to steal from him, and yet he still wanted to help her.
“I had no idea you and Eddie worked for him or I never would’ve come here.”
“You were the victim.” He caressed her arm.
“He made me break into your office, but the whole thing was a set up to test me. I feel so stupid.”
“He used you for his own messed-up reasons.”
“I’ve wrecked everything.” Guilt burned her throat.
He pressed his finger to her lips. “Shush.”
She shivered again, and he cradled her to him. “And he had Eddie beat up too,” she mumbled against his chest.
“I know.” He stroked the curve of her jaw, then stood taking her with him. “You’re safe now.”
He paused when they entered his bedroom, his expression mirrored her confusion.
She pressed against his muscular chest remembering every inch of it until she could feel the heat radiating off him. “We always end up like this. You making me feel safe.”
He nibbled that special spot below her ear, then peeled her shirt up, tossed it to the floor, and pushed at the waist of her skirt until it fell from her hips. Lifting her, he settled her onto the bed cupping her breast. When he sucked the soft flesh into his mouth, she sighed her approval. Then his teeth tugged on her nipple mixing sweet pain with pleasure. He licked and nipped at her until she squirmed under him. Needing more but never wanting him to stop this delicious torture.
“I hope you’re ready, baby.” He yanked off his shirt. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure one time isn’t gonna be enough.”
“I’m ready for whatever you’ve got.”
He pulled away from her breast and placed his hands on each side of her head. His biceps bulged as he hovered over her. She moaned deep in her throat when he grabbed her lips with his teasing and sucking deeper and deeper. Her fingers groped between them, and she fumbled with the button and zipper of his pants. He lifted his hips and she pushed away the material, his hard length pressing against her stomach. A moan vibrated from deep inside his chest, and she clutched at his hips guiding him to her. He nudged her thighs wider, and when she wrapped them around his hips, he slid inside her tight, wet walls.
“Fuck, baby. Ain’t nothing better,” he rasped against her neck.
He drove deep, and she cried out hanging on to him like a drowning woman in a tempestuous storm.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go.”
Slipping his hand between them, Jonny pressed her nub between his thumb and forefinger and she rocked her hips, her pulse thumping in her ears. Weightless and floating, all the strain and stress of the last few days drifted away on a beautiful cloud of blissed out pleasure.
“Oh God, Jonny,” she whimpered as the waves hit.
“So beautiful, so fuckin’ beautiful.”
Jonny ripped at the sheets under her head. “Feel me taking you?” he snarled, with another thrust of his hips, then another, until he swelled and stretched her in the most perfect way. “Nobody else can make you feel that.” With a breathless gasp and one last thrust, he collapsed at her side.
“That was . . .” she panted.
“It sure was.” He tugged her closer. Stared into her eyes. “Baby, we’re just getting started.”
~ ~ ~
The dampness of the alley coated her skin. “You stupid bitch, you’re not going anywhere,” Nicky threatened. The smack of his hand against her cheek. The glint of the knife in the halogen lights. The lifeless, limp body sprawled before her. Only it wasn't Nicky’s face staring back at her, it was Jonny’s.
Cheryl bolted upright in the bed. Her heart pounded against her chest, her gaze darted around the room searching for something familiar. Jonny must’ve closed the drapes during the night because little shards of daylight peeked through the heavy fabric.
After their perfect night, she hated that this hellish part of her life invaded their time. She’d hoped after telling the truth, the nightmares would cease, but her mind had other ideas. A single bead of sweat crept down her bare back as she forced herself to calm down.
Him waking next to a woman who couldn’t breathe without gasping was not what she had in mind for the morning after. Of course, the more she fought it, the harder her heart thumped.
She zeroed in on the sheet draped over his muscular back and shoulders as she fought to control her breathing.
“Hey.” He raised his head a few inches off the pillow. “You all right?” His voice was rough from sleep and sex, his thick, dark hair a contrast against the crisp white pillowcase.
“Yeah, fine.” Her response sounded tinny and fake, and she hoped his sleepy mind would miss her anxious edge.
He propped himself up and stroked her arm. “What’s wrong?” He blinked the sleep from his perceptive eyes.
“Sometimes I have dreams.” She looked away, so he wouldn’t see the fear. “More like nightmares.” She fisted the sheets tighter in her sweaty palms.
“Dreams can’t hurt you.” Enveloping her in his arms, he held her tight, and she knew he could feel the erratic beat of her heart. “No one can hurt you. I’m here.”
She swiped at her tears. She’d spent years caring for her brother, Dylan, and Nicky through all his messes, but Jonny was the first one to calm her, soothe her, take away her pain. Her breathing slowed, and her heart, although still racy, stopped skipping every other beat.
He stacked the pillows behind them, then leaned back with her in his arms. “You get these a lot?”
“What, nightmares?” She feared he would somehow figure out the horrible end of this particular nightmare.
“No, panic attacks.” He continued to stroke her arms as he held her.
How had he guessed her secret, and what now? Should she admit or deny it?
“Can’t catch your breath?” He stopped stroking her arm and looked into her eyes. “Feel like you’re coming apart.”
He handed her a bottle of water off the bedside table. “Here, drink this.”
The cool water soothed her dry throat, as she eased against the pillows.
“I got a thing about small places,” he admitted. “Elevators, cramped, tight places.”
“Claustrophobia?”
“And I’m not a big fan of the dark either.”
“You— Afraid of the dark?”
“Yeah.” He kissed his way down her neck and the cleft of her breasts. “I thought I’d never hold you again.”
He checked the bedside clock. “It’s only eight o’clock. Much too early to get up.”
She cuddled into his firm, protective embrace.
“My scars are physical, but the ones you carry around up here are just as bad. He grazed her forehead with soft kisses. “When your brain gets a chance to relax, the nightmares will go away. You’re with me now. No more worries.”
His words made sense, and she prayed he was right. Her mind was so overloaded and stressed, it needed some time to heal. “Hold me tighter,” she whispered against his chest.
A few hours later she awoke to a buzzing, then cool air hit her back as Jonny rolled away from her. Still half asleep, he fumbled with his phone on the nightstand. He mumbled a few words, then disconnected the phone.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Eddie’s doing better. Max is taking him back here to his penthouse.” Jonny tossed the phone on the bed. “I’m going into the kitchen to get us something to eat.”
She enjoyed the rearview as he pulled on a pair of sweat pants and moved toward the door.
She threw back the downy soft sheet, amazed how he kept them so white and fresh. Maybe he replaced them monthly. She chuckled at the extravagance, but he obviously spent on linens what most people made in a week.
Her bare feet sunk into the plush, dove gray carpet, and the cool air conditioning kissed her bare skin. Her clothes were in a crumpled, heap where he’d discarded them the night before. The bright sunlight streaking through the windows reflected against the chrome of the bar that sat in the far corner of the bedroom. Light and dark shades of gray mixed with accents of lilac.
She marveled at the smoked glass cabinet dominating the opposite wall. It stood just above her waist, and she assumed it was a media center of sorts. The tinted glass made it impossible to see in, so she moved closer, and pushed one of the buttons on the side. The cabinet hummed, and the largest flat screen TV she’d ever seen emerged from within, then roared to life.
“Ohhh, shit.” She punched at the buttons, and the TV shut off and descended back into the cabinet. She sighed with relief and moved toward the bathroom, making a mental note not to push any more unknown buttons.
Spying the fluffy white robe, she removed it from a hook. It hung to her mid-calf, and even after cinching the tie and rolling up the sleeves a few times, it still swallowed her up. She flipped the collar up and inhaled the scent of his spicy, woodsy cologne and soap.
Aside from a few bottles of cologne and some decorative pieces, also in lilac and gray, there was no clutter or mess on the granite counter tops. The glass enclosed shower had no water spots and appeared unused. His obvious neatness intimidated her since she leaned more toward messy. Okay, she was a slob. Clothes thrown all over, make-up and hair products fighting each other for counter space, with a few wet towels thrown on the floor.
Leaving the bathroom, she peeked into his closet. Stepping over the threshold, a light switched on, and she gawked at the racks and racks of suits, dress shirts, casual shirts, and pants and jeans. After a few hesitant steps into what could pass as a boutique men’s clothing store, she ran her hand over the cherry wood shelves that held rows of shoes. She touched the cuffs of cashmere jackets and fine linen shirts and fantasized about having a female version of this closet.
Peeking out from under the clothes, she spied a black and white striped cat. “Hey, pretty girl.” She bent, scooped her up, and examined her scars.
Leaving the closet, she was drawn to the bookcase suspended in the corner where the windows met. She jostled the cat to her left side and lifted a book off the shelf. She ran her hand over the smooth leather binding, then cracked the book and sniffed.
“I thought I was the only one who sniffed books.”
She snapped the book shut, cheek’s warming at being caught in the act.
He moved to her side and caressed the cat’s fur. “I see you met Killer.”
“Killer?” She laughed.
“She had a rough start, so I gave her the name to boost her confidence.” He smiled. “She usually spits at the women I bring home.”
A cat with very good taste. This might just work.
“You like to read?” he asked.
“I love to read. Are these limited editions?”
“My decorator insisted it’s the way to go.”
“Do you have a favorite?” She let the cat jump out of her arms.
He leaned over her to retrieve a book from a higher shelf, and she admired the thin line of fine hairs that disappeared into his low-slung sweatpants.
“Julius Caesar.”
“Makes sense.” She fanned through the book then closed it. “This leather binding is in such good shape.”
“When I can’t sleep at night, I read.” He replaced the book, then wrapped his arm around her waist. “But I had no trouble sleeping last night.”
“Me neither.” A heat crept up her spine along with a hi-def image of him hovering over her, muscles bulging, just begging to be nipped.
He pulled her against his bare chest and smiled. “A beautiful, sexy woman who likes to read. I think I hit the jackpot.”
“Me too.”
Who was this gorgeous man who said all the right words, rescued animals, read the classics, and had knife fights on the docks?