“You’re asking?”
“Of course I’m asking.” He ran a hand over his head, bringing the strands of hair that made him look like a jacked-up pirate away from his brow. “Can I touch you?”
“To do what?” Carla huffed out a breath, noting that she wasn’t shaking anymore, and she didn’t feel like she was going to puke. Progress. “Are you going to pick me up and throw me into the ocean?”
He laughed, and it was the most magical sound on the entire island, maybe in the whole Caribbean Sea right then. His laugh vibrated through her skin. She felt as though she was being washed in his amusement, which was all well and good until she remembered that he was laughing at her.
She scowled at him despite her sudden, inexplicable urge to join in his little giggle fest. “I’m serious. You think I’m trying to scam a member of my family. Why wouldn’t you want to hurt me?”
He moved closer, so close she could feel his breaths, big breaths, against her cheek. He rested one clenched fist against the wall behind her, leaving her an escape. She wouldn’t take it because she wasn’t sure she could make herself get out of the shelter his body created right then.
“One.” He stuck up the index finger of his free hand. “I have never hurt a woman.”
“I believe you.” She did. Despite the fact that having her character besmirched irritated her, she didn’t think he was an abusive shitbag.
He just ignored her confession, as if it was foregone that she would believe him. “Two.” His middle finger went up, and she imagined it slipping between her dress and the skin above her breast. Having him this close and thinking about him touching her was going to make her lose her mind. Not a problem that either of them needed. “I was probably wrong about you.”
The words sounded like they’d been wrenched out of him, as though he rarely, if ever, admitted that he made a mistake or misjudged a situation.
“So you don’t think I’m a silly, spoiled brat?”
“You are a silly, spoiled brat. But you’re not trying to rip Lola off.” He dropped his hand, and her fantasies about how his blunt fingertips could make her feel fell away as his words sank in.
“What makes you think I’m not? If I’m such a princess, what makes you think I have moral qualms about anything?”
“The way Lola talks about you.” His rumbly voice made her skin tingle, in the best way. He was electrifying in all the respects that Geoff had never been, and it made her angry. She wasn’t sure why. Wouldn’t the breakup have been even worse had she actually been in love with her fiancé? “She talks about you as if you’re a wounded bird or something.”
She was a wounded animal, but not a bird. Jonah didn’t know her well enough to know that she was really a wounded honey badger. And, right now, the feral part of her that ached with not being wanted was fighting its way out of her chest. That bit of wildness that she hadn’t completely killed off for Geoff’s benefit wondered what he would do if she vaulted up to the very tips of her toes and kissed him. She wanted to feel his huge palms envelop her hips and ass and crush her against him. At the same time, she wanted to scratch her nails against the skin on his back, raising welts and possibly drawing blood.
All of these emotions distracted her from the feelings of shame and anxiety scraping through her guts. Hating Jonah and wanting to fuck him at the same time gave all her angry energy a place to go.
As though he sensed her drawing closer to him, snapping and pressing her lips and body against him, he pulled away. She must repel him on some level.
“Do you need help getting back to the house?”
Carla wanted to say no, but she couldn’t. She would just have another freak out if she tried to make it to the house all alone. She hated feeling this vulnerable. Would she always feel like this? Would she need someone to swoop in and save her for the rest of her life?
She chewed on her answer for long seconds before saying, “Yes.”
“At your service.”
“No, you’re not.” She coughed up a laugh despite her bone-deep embarrassment. “You’re just afraid that I’ll tell Lola you abandoned me, and she’ll kick you out.”
He opened his palms to her and delivered another killer smile. “You’ve got me there, princess.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“If the shoe fits.” He looked down her body to her feet, and back up. Slowly. As if she wasn’t repulsive to him at all. She’d recognize the look on his face anywhere, it was hunger. Lust.
Knowing he wanted her body made her own desire for him even hotter. It made her wonder why he didn’t want to give in, what was holding him back. Her curiosity reminded her of hiding underneath the dining room table during her mother’s lunches. She used to bring down a notepad and write down all the major items of gossip in bullet points. Then, she would brief her father on who was cheating on whom with who so that he wouldn’t stick his foot in a pile of doo-doo at the next cocktail party her mom threw.
Her mother had always thought she just wanted to hang out with the big girls. But, even then, she’d wanted to prove that she had value to the family. She hadn’t been as good at school as Alana or as good at sports as Javi. But she’d always had the whole mercenary game down pat.
Jonah might only see a flighty, wounded bird who ought to be put out of her misery, but she was not to be underestimated.
That was it! He didn’t want her because he only saw the surface. The urge to put him in his place rolled through her body as sure as her unsatisfied sexual longing coursed through her veins. He didn’t want her because he didn’t really see her. And she wanted to make him see her almost as much as she wanted to break down his resistance to her.
“Can you make it back in those?” He pointed at her shoes.
She had to fight a knowing smile because she couldn’t be the damsel in distress if he knew that she was playing him so he’d have to carry her back.
So, she shifted from foot to foot, feigning more serious foot pain. “Probably not. I thought there was a coffee place about a block from Lola’s. I got lost.” A muscle ticked in Jonah’s cheek while he hesitated. She poured more gasoline on the fire. “I know you’re probably busy taking pictures.”
She trailed a finger along his forearm, toward the camera bag clenched in his fist. He continued to hesitate, and it just made this little game all the more fun. He’d pretend to be so put out by her because he had to deviate from his busy schedule. She would pour her gratitude on ever thicker until it made him angry. And then he would get so pissed that he would kiss her.
She wondered if she could make him so mad that he went downtown, just pushed her panties to the side and put his mouth on her. Hashtag: life goals.
With a muttered “Fuck,” he hiked his camera bag over his shoulder and scooped her up.
The feel of his hands against her, and his warm chest against the side of her breast were even more affecting than she’d thought. She’d wanted him before. And now, she was on fire for him.
She had a feeling she was playing a game that she could only lose.
* * * *
Jonah had always been a magnet for girls who needed a lot of—attention, love, money, whatever. He liked the feeling of being needed, but the ones who needed him always turned out to be the problems.
Carla had “problem” written all over her delicious little body. But that didn’t matter to his dick. His dick’s only thoughts on Carla were about how warm and tight she’d be inside and how much his dick liked her. His dick was an asshole.
She weighed about