Page 97 of Those Who Are Bound

Jonah

Afteranightofhighs and lows—mostly highs—and intense physicality, Elliott slept in the next morning. She was a late sleeper; she’d warned him. Perhaps because of the emotional roller coaster she’d been on and the eventual comfort she’d found nestled in to him, she remained tightly clutched in the arms of Morpheus.

Jonah didn’t mind. He’d always been an early riser, although this morning, he’d slept later than usual. Admittedly, he didn’t want to leave the soft warmth of her body, so he had purposefully held her tighter and remained for a few minutes of extra sleep. Eventually, however, his internal alarm had rebelled, and he reluctantly left her and the bed.

In the light of day, he took stock of the room as he grabbed his boxers. This room, as with the rest of the house, betrayed no hint of the personality of the woman. It was simply laid out, the bed next to the French doors that led out onto a decent-sized deck, opposite the entry. A rounded overstuffed chair, gray, was situated in the far corner with a light gray throw over the back of it. A book was resting in the seat.

The bathroom was to the right of the entry. It was a man’s design, the shower equipped with powerful surround jet showerheads and a textured floor. One massive rainfall showerhead dominated the middle; options. Jonah assumed Elliott had little use for the multiple blasts of water that would rotate over her body if she turned on those nozzles. He imagined that at the level they were aimed, they’d most likely drown her.

But the thought had also struck him that even in the bathroom, it appeared as if she was barely trying to encroach: shampoo, conditioner, a unisex dark blue fleece robe. Her toiletries were in a case as though ready to vacate at any moment. The T-shirt she had been wearing last night was her brother’s. He assumed. He hoped. He didn’t want her wearing an ex-boyfriend’s shirt.

If she wasn’t asleep in bed right now, curled with her back to him as though he was still wrapped around her, then he could have assigned this space to anyone. He wondered why his heart broke at the thought that she was merely existing in someone else’s space—her brother’s space—and why she was so reluctant to make her mark.

“You deserve so much more,” he said to her sleeping form. His heart tumbled over itself as he watched her. He felt intensely possessive looking at her, a sensation he wasn’t familiar with. And… gifted. She gave him a gift last night, more than her incredible body. He knew something about her that no other man knew, that no other man had experienced with her: she liked to cuddle. He’d fallen asleep with an asinine smile on his face.Stillhad an asinine smile on his face.

With a last lingering look at her silhouette beneath the covers, he left the room.

He started the preparations for coffee and set out two mugs while he waited for the water to heat. He needed to switch the generator off. He’d slept so solidly the remainder of the night, content in her arms and bed, that he’d failed to wake up and do so. On another level, he also hadn’t wanted Elliott to think he’d left again. The scent of coffee should remind her of his words—he wouldn’t leave her.

He experienced a pang of regret at her assumption. What kind of piece of shit man, after experiencing even a fraction of what he’d experienced with her, could get up and walk out?He had a hard time being down the hall from her, much less getting up in the middle of the night and leaving her bed. In fact, thinking about how she responded to him the night before and knowing she was naked under the covers feet away had his blood pumping south and his dick standing firm, eager to lead the charge.

“Damn it,” he cursed, looking down at his tented boxers. “Greedy son of a bitch.”When it came to Elliott Rork… yes.He could honestly say he’d never felt better inside another woman. He had wanted to dive right back in once he’d left her. He craved her even now. He should be alarmed at how at peace he was with her, but he wasn’t. Nothing had ever felt more right; her body welcomed him, like inviting him home. And he knew he was a rough lover; vulgar, even. But she had naturally acquiesced to his dominance. She’d liked it, hadn’t been shocked or daunted by him.

She hadn’t dawdled, either, regarding birth control (good girl) and had chosen one for her benefit. He wasn’t going to lie: most definitely for his own. But she hadn’t wanted anything between them; she’d wanted him raw.And damn if coming inside her hadn’t been this side of heaven. He was growing even harder at the not-too-distant memory of her hot, smooth muscles constricting around him.

And had that been a touch of jealousy about his ex-wife?

Despite his immediate discomfort, he grinned. She was a total surprise. Not even two weeks in, and he knew. Lucy was right: stick a fork in him, he was done. He could only see Elliott in his future. He knew it was fast for her, that he’d have to pace himself, but he suspected she wouldn’t be hard to coax along.

Together, they were just… right.

They belonged.

Jonah tipped his head back, and he looked heavenward. “This woman is phenomenal. Thank you.” On a chuckle to himself, he tossed a glance back down the hallway, as though he could sense if she still slept or not; he assumed she did. Pushing off the counter, he headed toward the front door to complete the task of shutting off the generator.

After the powerful storms that rolled through the night before, the day was starting off bright and beautiful. Humid but sunny.Jonah took quick stock of what damage there may be as he tripped lightly down the stairs. Leaves and tree limbs were scattered everywhere, but that appeared to be the worst of it. His Jeep looked like it had confetti strewn all over it.

He made his way over to the generator, recalling driving up and seeing a drenched Elliott hunkered down beside the thing. She had looked like a drowned kitten with her black hair plastered to her face and neck, her expression one of desperation and determination. It might have been perverse to have wanted her then and there, but he had—her fight combined with her vulnerability had been an instant turn on. He knew before he jumped from the Jeep that he’d be staying the night.

Putting away the leads, he secured the storage door and returned upstairs. As he closed the door, he heard the buzzing of a phone. He knew it wasn’t his, so he glanced around to find out where she had left hers.He didn’t want to be intrusive, but he also knew that she didn’t have a lot of active contacts in her life. When he spotted it on the sofa where she must have left it before heading outside the night before, he retrieved it and looked at the screen.

Lucy.

Not about to be cock blocked by his best friend, Jonah went to his phone on the counter and sent her a text. The barrage of texts he received back caused him to turn his phone off with a forlorn sigh.

Preparing a cup of coffee, he meandered back down the hall to the bedroom where he leaned against the doorjamb, sipping at the dark brew and looking in at Elliott. She’d shifted in the bed. Instead of curled up on her side away from him, she was now facing the door, on her stomach, one knee hitched up next to her as she hugged the pillow. The covers had shifted down, skirting above her buttocks, showcasing the natural dip from swell of ass to the curve of back.

His gaze lingered on the discoloration along her hips where his fingers had dug in, causing bruises. He’d marked her—there were equal parts feral satisfaction and regret for having bruised her. The more primitive side of him liked seeing his claim on her, knowing it wasn’t from anger, but from passion. Had he looked in a mirror, he’d see scratches and bruises on his own body; marks he could feel and proudly wore.

Taking another sip of coffee, he simply stared.Hair tousled, lips partially open, cheeks flushed, the reveal of side-boob in her position—he could watch her all day. The gentle rise and fall of her back as she breathed, the occasional murmurs she made—sometimes whole words—intrigued him.Everything about her fascinated him.

As though she could sense his presence, Elliott sniffed in her sleep and rubbed her face sleepily against the pillow, arching in a small stretch. Jonah’s entire focus became concentrated; a predator ready to strike. He watched her slide her hand outward and meet cool sheets, then her resulting frown. Her still-unfocused gaze searched the empty space where he had been, a flash of panic and hurt crossing her face. Then she blinked, and the expressions were replaced with a smiling weariness. Ducking her head, she rolled and turned to face the door, a look of surprise on her face to see him standing there.

Jonah grinned at her over the rim of the coffee mug as she smiled back, shyly rolling back onto her stomach as though to shield herself, although she angled her head down to maintain eye contact.After lowering the cup, he greeted, “Good morning.”

She reached up and rubbed her face sleepily, a gesture he found adorable, responding, “Good morning.” Head still tilted, she said, “I smelled coffee.”

Jonah shoved off the doorjamb. “Want some?”

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