“This changes nothing right? Just some fun?” I half whisper. Why am I even pretending to try to fight this? But this is uncharted territory, and I almost fall back into my comfort zone of looking for something meaningful, and not believing in having fun when it comes to matters of the heart.
“Just some fun,” he confirms softly. The hand that isn’t on my ass is stroking my cheek with his knuckles and a shiver runs down my whole body. He moves his face to my mouth while his lips never leave my skin. When he reaches the corner of my mouth, I close my eyes. His lips gently press down on mine and it feels like a sin. His body is still pressed firmly up against me, and we’re as connected as we can possibly be at this moment, our dancing reduced to a slow grind that makes me go crazy.
He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and my knees go weak. I’m glad that the music is so loud because I think I just moaned. I open my mouth a little and he enters immediately. Our tongues touch as he slowly opens my mouth up further. While his soft kiss doesn’t live up to his bad boy reputation, the hand that tangles in my hair and pulls my face in the position just the way he likes it, does. He tastes sweet, probably from the drinks we just had. When the hand that is cupping my ass slides down my leg, he reaches even lower and he strokes his finger over the bare skin of my leg. My nipples pebble, pressing against my clothes and adding to the sensation I’m experiencing. His tongue teases mine and I meet him stroke for stroke. His hand goes back up again, grabbing my ass in a less innocent way. I’d let him do all kinds of dirty things right here on the dance floor and the thought sobers me, so I pull back.
Our foreheads still touch when I end the kiss and he doesn’t let my head or my ass go.
“Why?” I ask him when I look up and into his green eyes.
“Why what?”
“Why kiss me? You could have every girl that’s in here, and kissing will only complicate whatever friendship there is between us.”
My heart is beating harder than the techno beat that’s being blasted through the club. I want to give in to just having some fun, but I’m still me in the end. I’m not doing a one-eighty personality wise just because I’m not looking for a relationship right now.
“Why you? Because you’re looking like actual sin in the flesh. And why the hell not? You’re done with love and not looking for anything serious if I understood Dean correctly. I’ve got nothing serious to offer, but I do know how to have fun. So why the fuck not? Let go of all the rules you’ve made for yourself and just live a little.”
Are these the right words to say? Is this the truth? I can’t answer those questions, but it’s what I need to hear. I crush my mouth against his as I stop overthinking everything. I just let go. As I give myself over to being lost in fucking everything, Jonah tangles his tongue around mine. He nibbles my lip as I let my hand lower on his hard abs. I moan as he kisses the soft skin beneath my ear, and I find myself not giving a single fuck. So what if people could possibly hear me moaning? This is Jonah’s club, and he isn’t worried his employees see their boss making out in the middle of the dance floor. So why would I?
My other hand is tangled in his hair as he pulls my head aside and starts kissing down my neck, following the edge of my collarbone. He pulls my head back, exposing and elongating my neck as he licks all the way up over my windpipe in one smooth move, making me shiver.
Once he starts kissing me again, he pulls one of my knees over his hip. I worry that I might fall over but he makes sure that I’m standing sturdy. And really? Let’s just admit that I’m leaning all over him and I’m not really standing up by myself anymore. The hard bulge in his pants is firmly pressed against me and I shamelessly rub myself over him. When worry starts to creep in if this is too much, he moans with a deep, husky voice. The sound vibrates all the way to my panties and God, I really want him.
My hands start to explore his body as we keep kissing like our lives depend on it. I’ve never been kissed with such unfiltered lust. There’s never been a moment in my life in which I’ve been able to let go of everything more than I am now. If I would write this scene in one of my books, I would use the words unbridled passion.
“Jonah,” someone says from nearby. I don’t know who it is, but they’re dead. I’m not a hostile person, but I suddenly relate to people committing crimes as an act of passion. Give me a knife and I’ll cut a bitch. Jonah seems equally pissed but manages to pull away from me, and looks at the dead person talking to us.
I’m surprised to see it’s O.
“What?” Jonah snaps.
“Sorry man, but Gil said he saw Celia.”
“What? Fuck. Okay. Take Mor and go home, I’ll go get security and start watching the tapes.”
I don’t understand what’s happening but the bliss I was just experiencing has gone out the window, and I’m left standing there with all these confused feelings. What’s happening? Who are we talking about? Why are we going home? Celia sounds like an ex-girlfriend. Maybe my idea of cutting the bitch wasn’t so far off.
O scrapes his throat as Jonah lets me go, and looks at me with remorseful eyes. “Sorry, I wouldn’t have interrupted you if it wasn’t necessary.”
I then realise he saw what I’ve just been up to. My cheeks flush and I try to subtly pull my dress back down. It crawled up to indecent heights when Jonah pulled my leg around his hip. O smirks as he sees what I’m doing.
“Come on, let’s go,” he says when he obviously chooses not to comment on my sudden embarrassment. He holds out his arm for me to grab as we start walking to the exit.
The drive back is mostly silent. No one cares to explain what exactly just happened and I don’t have the guts to ask. Gil is driving us back while I’m moping next to Dean in the back seat. My fun-loving chef is staring out the window with a dark look on his face. O is riding in the passenger seat, and is tapping away at his phone.
Have I really just climbed Jonah like a tree, grinding onto him like a dog in heat, in a club full of people, where everyone could see? That horrifies me. Is that why nobody is talking? Are they all equally horrified? My thoughts race through my mind and I start to nervously bounce my leg, because I can’t figure the answer out.
“Stop overthinking everything Mor. I can hear you grind your teeth from over here,” O says without looking up from his little screen.
My head snaps up as I look at him. He doesn’t look back. But I catch Gil’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. He looks less grim than Tweedle Dean beside me and Tweedle Dum in the passenger seat, but something has changed in his demeanour.
“Want me to put on some music?” he asks. I can still hear the beat from the music in the club in my head and I can use some quiet. So I shake my head and he shrugs. When I catch myself actually grinding my teeth I sigh.
“So, why are we actually going home right now?” I ask while I forcefully stare out the window, so I don’t have to make eye contact. I don’t get an immediate response, and when I look back in the car Dean is staring out his own window, and O stares at me without talking. It’s Gil who finally answers.
“There was someone at the club who we didn’t expect to be there. She’s someone from the past and, well, trouble. She isn’t supposed to be at the club and we couldn’t find her after the short view I got of her.”
I let that sink in for a while.