Page 192 of Those Who Are Bound

She persisted, “And thank you for what you said just now. You could have gotten real revenge by turning the knife.”

At that, his expression turned to one of intolerance.

Well, any goodwill he’d had toward her, she’d lit on fire. “I’m in the garage behind the church.”

“I know. I’m next to you.”

The thing with driving a cherry red Mustang was that she was easily detectable.

He held out his hand to her. “Come on.”

She took it, jibing gently as she did so, “Are you going to have to seek the rocks again after this? More distance and perspective?”

“Smart ass.” But he tugged at her so she walked beside him.

They walked in comfortable silence: Elliott mind-blown that they could have this easy moment after her own heart had ceased to beat that night. This she’d never thought possible; a quiet hand-holding moment as they walked up the street.

Of course, it was all due to Jonah. Because he was such a good freaking person. Too good. Too good for her.

At their cars, they stopped. Elliott bit into her lower lip; this was awkward. She didn’t know this protocol. Should she wave and jump into her car? A “Later, bro” scenario? That didn’t feel right.

Instead, she fumbled out, “I suppose you’ll be at the wedding next weekend?”

Jonah nodded, that amused expression back. “Of my friends? Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Are you… marrying them?”

“No. I’m just a guest.” He was looking at her as though he hadn’t just consumed two meals. Familiar flames ignited as he did so.

She should move away. Now.

Leave.

Go.

“Lucy’s been both nervous and excited. It’s the first wedding she’s planned, and it’s a doozy. Rehearsal dinner, then the big event the next day.” She was babbling. Holy crap.

Leave, idiot.

“I’ll hear about it tomorrow morning.” But that look… he wasn’t thinking about Lucy or weddings.

Nodding, she reached up and caressed his jawline again. “I really do like the scruff,” she said sadly. Sadly, because she was going to miss out on what it’d feel like between her legs, on her body as his mouth moved over her. Blinking at her wayward thought, she once again snatched her hand away.

Jonah caught it and returned it to his face, stepping closer. “Should I keep it, then? Is that what you’re saying?”

She changed her stance on hell. It was a real place because she was standing in the flames; she was on fire. That wolfish look in his eyes combined with his new perfectly trimmed facial hair—she was about to combust.

In barely a whisper, she answered, “You can do what you want. I don’t have a vote anymore.” Because the verbal protest was all the power she had at that moment.

A slight smile curled his lips as his head descended. “I think I’ll keep it.”

She opened her mouth for a clever response…

Liar, because no; no, she didn’t. She opened her mouth to meet his, her brain exploding with the energy, the electricity, the passion that was them. Her body sang with the charge that ran through her as his lips met hers, his tongue sweeping in to claim once again.

Her fingernails dug in a bit on his jaw as she wrapped her other arm around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. Tasting, re-familiarizing, getting lost in him and the headiness only he provided by commanding, demanding, possessing.

His hand slipped from her waist to ass, gathering folds of her skirt, the hem of it lifting. She became wetter in anticipation; he had a mission, a reason. She whimpered against his lips as her legs began to tremble because his touch was transporting.

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