Page 49 of A Slice of Love

I wrench open the freezer door and practically shove my head inside, needing a moment to cool off—literally.

Jonas is inside my apartment.

Iinvited him in.

Iwanthim here.

What is going on with me? I’m supposed to be mad at him, not inviting him into my home.

Am Ithatdesperate for attention? Or does he just make me that weak?

“Are you trying to move into that thing or something? I can bring you a pillow if you’d like.”

I jump at Jonas’ sudden appearance, whacking my head on the freezer shelf.

“Crap!” I clutch my throbbing head. “Mother of Merlin, that hurt!”

“Shit,” he mutters, rushing forward. His big palm wraps around my waist and tugs me close to him. “Let me see it.”

“Is it bleeding? Am I going to bleed out? How much blood is there?”

He chuckles, moving my hand out of the way. “I can’t tell if you’re worried about blood or not.”

“Shut up!” I swat at him. “I hate blood. I can’t look. I can’t look or I’ll puke. It’s the worst. It’s—oh god, I cansmellit. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“You’re nuts. The only bad thing is your sense of smell because you definitelyaren’tbleeding.”

“Then how come I can taste it!”

“We’ve just established that you’re insane.”

I try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let me get far.

“Okay, okay. Fine,” he says, pulling me back in until my body molds against his. I try not to sigh at the contact. “You’re not insane. You’re just…” He shakes his head. “Yeah, no, I lied. You’re insane.”

“Jonas!”

“Just accept it. The sooner you do, the better off you’ll be.”

“I’m going to knee you in the balls.” There’s no bite behind my scolding. Being in his arms has rendered me stupid.

He laughs because he knows exactly what he’s doing just by touching me. “You’d never hurt my balls.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. You think just because we’ve slung back a few shots together and I’ve invited you into my apartment, you’re forgiven, but you are incorrect. I’m still plenty angry with you, Jonas.”

He tightens his hold, lips dropping to my ear, dangerously close to tracing the shell.

My shirt has ridden up, and his warm fingers graze over my skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

I shiver at the touch, and he chuckles, his chest vibrating against me.

“You know, I’m beginning to think it’s not anger you harbor toward me, Frank.” Another squeeze. “I think you’re just sexually frustrated.”

He’s wrong. I am still angry.

But…if I’m being honest, he’s right too.

Iamsexually frustrated.

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