Page 77 of Jonas

“You know that’s not doing a damn bit of good, baby?”

I suspected it wasn’t but it was better than standing fully nude in the unflattering white light coming from the fixture over the sink. I mean, really, who wants all their bits and bobs on display under harsh lighting?

His voice was still a growl when he said, “Towel.”

I fought back the quiver his indecent gaze caused. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to fight my gaze from dropping to his crotch. What could I say, I was a healthy female, with a fine specimen of a man standing in front of me. I was also naked, so I figured some ogling on my part was owed to me.

Tit for tat, and all that.

“Derrika.”

That didn’t cause a quiver—it caused my clit to spasm. Suddenly, my broken toes were forgotten. Hair washing with a hose was a distant memory. Horrible lighting no longer mattered, not when the impressive tenting in Jonas’s boxers was all I could focus on.

My panting turned into wheezing as I tried to draw in a breath through my saliva-filled mouth.

Good Lord, am I drooling?

I sure as heck hoped not, because I didn’t have a free hand to wipe it away.

His cock twitched under my watchful eyes. I felt that in two places—no, make that three: my sex, my nipples, and my lungs. The last were working so hard I feared I was going to hyperventilate. The first was wet and getting wetter by the second. And I knew that, not just because I could feel it, but because my hand was right there and the tips of my fingers were slick with my desire.

I cupped myself harder in an effort to alleviate the throbbing between my legs. Incidentally, this didn’t work. It made it worse, way worse.

“Derrika,” he groaned.

I felt that groan in my womb.

“Don’t talk. I can’t take it.”

I clenched my thighs, and my finger pressed against my clit.

A whoosh of air escaped along with an “Oh, God.”

“Baby, look at me.”

That made my nipples tingle.

My eyes slowly journeyed up, taking in his boxed abs, the valley between his pecs, his Adam’s apple, his beard, his lips, and finally when my eyes landed on his, I sucked in a breath at the blatant desire swirling in those baby blues.

“You playing with your clit, Derrika?”

I wasn’t, playing, I was touching, but I was about to start.

I shook my head and clenched my thighs tighter.

Jonas tossed something in the sink. The sound echoed in the small bathroom, momentarily drowning out the sound of my heavy breathing.

His gaze swept down, pausing on my breasts.

He stepped closer.

I held my breath.

That breath whooshed out when his fingers curled around the wrist of the hand trapped between my legs.

Jonas leaned closer. His lips brushed over my temple, and there he whispered, “How wet are you, baby?”

I must’ve been having an out-of-body experience. Either that or I’d reached a whole new level of turned on, one I never knew existed, a place that made me bold and brazen.