Page 79 of Those Who Are Bound

Jonah

Herinvitingexpressionasshe sauntered toward the house caused his blood to rush southward. He watched in appreciation as she ascended the stairs. At the top, she cast him an amused look before going to the door and opening it.

“Lord, give me strength not to choose door number one.”

He grabbed his bag out of the Jeep, leaving the gloves as he’d been instructed, and ran up the stairs. He opened the screen door and stepped aside, allowing his vision to adjust to the darker interior. His first impression was that it smelled good; a light sandalwood. He thought it fit her that her home wouldn’t smell girlie, like cinnamon apples or vanilla.

The style was open concept. The kitchen to the left; the living room to the right. An island bar with three stools separated the rooms. Simple, minimalistic: a sofa sat against the far wall, and a dark brown leather ottoman in the center of the room.A closed laptop was on the ottoman.

To his immediate right, next to the door, was a rack of hooks. She had a bright yellow rain jacket hanging from it and an oversized army jacket with the name Rork on the breast.

Straight back, down a long hallway, he saw a closed door. Elliott’s door; the master suite. He started down the hall, staring at the dark wood paneling. Knowing she was behind that door, probably semi-naked, did interesting things to his blood pressure. His pants became a little tighter.

He paused by two opposing doors; the one on his left, he knew was the guest bathroom. He glanced into the open doorway on his right. A guest room, simply furnished. Nothing extraordinary.

Frowning, Jonah turned and cast his gaze around again as though he had missed something, and then he realized it: the personal touch. Other than the yellow raincoat, there was nothing in the space that said Elliott lived here, not even pictures. He looked at her closed door again, hoping it hid more than her body at this moment; more than a nondescript bed.

Entering the bathroom, not surprised by the monochromatic theme, he proceeded to change into long gym shorts and a tank. As he did so, he heard Elliott’s bedroom door open. A second later, she had him jumping as she pounded on the bathroom door accompanied by a wicked chuckle. “Five minutes, Montgomery.”

He opened the door, but she had already moved on. “I’m faster than you.”

She laughed out loud as she rounded the bar to the kitchen. “That doesn’t bode well for me.”

Before he followed her, Jonah took the opportunity to peer into her bedroom; he saw French doors leading out onto another deck, what looked like a king-sized bed, but not much else. In order to get better acquainted with the room, he’d have to get more intimately acquainted with its owner. He responded, “You’re awfully feisty today, kitten.”

She was filling a water bottle and looked up when he appeared. “I’m your girlfriend now—officially pinned and everything—isn’t sexual banter supposed to be part of the whole game?”

Jonah leaned his elbows on the bar, his expression darkening as he took in her black outfit—the same one she’d been wearing when he’d first seen her. He was knocked out now, as he’d been then, seeing her in it. But he answered her, “If you think a relationship is a game, I want to find your ex-boyfriends and punch them.”

She scoffed. “How about if I teach you how to first?”

“Some things are instinctual,” Jonah assured her.

Elliott stared at him a minute before stating, “You’ve got a bit of a wolfish demeanor behind your gentlemanly façade and easy smiles. Maybe that’s why you’re so at home in the wild.”

He played back. “You sound intrigued.”

Her silver orbs glittered with something dark and devilish that tantalized the hell out of him. Before he could press the issue, she diverted. “Let’s put some technique behind that instinct, shall we?”

She was back to business.

Downstairs, Elliott wrapped his hands in blue wraps, her seductive smirk in place as her gaze slipped from her task to him. Jonah was having a hard time not staring at her body, lifting his gaze to hers when he noticed the tilt of her chin signaling she was looking upward. How he’d managed to slow them both down for more than a week was beyond him. The chemistry between them was off the charts. He was half surprised that the walls weren’t melting around them. The heat they both gave off was no match for the midwestern summer.

At that thought, he tore his gaze away from her and glanced around the underside of the house. Besides this space for her heavy bag and a bench, and the side where the Mustang was parked, there was a small storage closet—as though there wasn’t enough storage around—he imagined these items were personal, or for the house. The air conditioning unit was toward the back, along with a gasoline generator.

Made sense; midwestern storms could be brutal, and her brother seemed like a man who had planned for every situation. Almost.

“No cellar,” Jonah suddenly said.

Elliott shook her head. “Nope.”

“What about tornadoes?”

She patted down the Velcro as she finished the wraps on his hands. “Hope there isn’t one.” She leaned over and picked up her red wraps and began the process again with herself.

“Seriously, what would you do?”

“There’s not much I could do,” she responded. “I suppose, if one ever gets close, I do what they say: get low. I certainly wouldn’t stay in the house. But thankfully, it hasn’t been a problem.”

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