Unwritten Rules (10 page)

“Damn, Red,” he panted, trying to catch his

breath.

I brought my hands to either side of his face, feeling the heat he radiated, and stared directly into his eyes. I was stil shaking; my body stil humming. “I don’t think I can put into words what that was.”

He kissed my lips with slow precision, lapping the rain from them. “Passionate? Desperate? Hot?”

I laughed and nodded my head.

“I didn’t see any of the city though,” I added, taunting him.

He lowered me careful y to the floor, checking my skin for signs of damage. I couldn’t stop smiling and touching him. I placed my hands on his shoulders, my thumbs stroking his neck, before trailing off over his inked stars.

“I love these. In fact, I need to get a good look at al of your tattoos,” I said pointing to them, my legs stil quivering.

“Oh, you want me to lie stil while you check me out? Damn, Red, if I’d have known that earlier I would’ve been horizontal already.”

I chuckled.

“I can’t help that I’m a tad shal ow. Art on a man’s skin just gets me excited.”

“Is that why you blushed and stammered whenever I saw you at the mailboxes?” He quirked a brow, a sly little smirk played across his swol en lips.

He had me.

“Erm...Wel ...I...Oh, come on!” I replied finding my voice. “It’s not like you were exactly forthcoming.”

His smile was huge as he threaded his fingers

into mine and dipped down to pick up our clothes.

“Come on, we need to get inside. You’re

freezing.”

“So are you.”

“Then let’s go and get warm,” he exhaled, tugging on my hand. I stil ed.

I stil ed. “Our clothes are soaked. Do you real y want us to go to our apartments naked?”

“No,” he answered, as I breathed a sigh of relief.

“We’re going to
my
apartment.”

He pul ed on my hand again, but I wouldn’t move.

“Red?”

“We’re naked!” I proclaimed as if he had no idea.

“Yup. But we’re naked out here too. If you run we can be locked away in my apartment within minutes...Run!”

I couldn’t help myself. His words had me giggling and racing away from him. It was exhilarating and terrifying running down the two flights of stairs to his apartment. Jonah’s touches, his breaths in my ear, and his laughter superseded the fear of us getting caught. However, when he took his time finding his keys in his jeans, I was positive he was doing it on purpose.

I slapped his back, trying to hide myself. My teeth were chattering to the same tune as his were, and we both moaned when he final y opened the door.

“Towels!” Jonah shouted up, tossing the sodden clothes onto the wood floor.

I watched him walk away from me across to the

bathroom, taking note of yet more tattoos on his back. They seemed to be the same style as the hooded figure on his side. I knew I’d get a chance to ask him about them later. I shuddered, looking around his apartment, as a fluffy robe came flying through the air.

“Just in the bathroom. I’l be a second.”

I hummed, wrapping myself up in the robe’s

warmth and waited. I felt awkward being alone in his place. I didn’t want him to think I was snooping, so with that in mind, I walked over to the window and gazed out into the darkness.

I began to replay the evening, wondering if we’d just made another mistake. My head was tel ing me we should have talked first, but my heart was doing a happy dance. Confusion swiftly became my only thought as I heard a clattering coming from the bathroom.

I turned, looking at the door when Jonah exited. His smile, and the way his blue eyes focused on me, calmed my anxiety.

He had wrapped a towel around his waist and had dried off his hair. He looked disheveled and incredibly sexy. My body made instant demands.

It wanted Jonah again.

“Want to grab a towel to dry your hair. I’l make some coffee?”

I nodded, walking to the bathroom, and smiling when he ran a solitary finger down my cheek and along my jaw. My heart was pounding from his touch. As I walked into the bathroom, I pondered how different he seemed. He had been so quiet and reserved at the mailboxes. Tonight he was like a different man. I came to the conclusion that it must have something to do with playing the club. An adrenaline rush of sorts from doing something he enjoys. I closed the door, taking in my appearance in the mirror. I whimpered inwardly. How on earth could Jonah find what was reflected back attractive?

My hair was clinging to my head because it was so wet. The water had turned it at least four shades darker. It was now more auburn than red. My cheeks were rosy pink from the cold, and my lips stil swol en due to his heated kisses. Jonah wasn’t the only one working the disheveled look.

I reached for a towel and began rubbing at my

hair, making it worse than before. I decided I needed to pin it back and checked his counter top for something I could use. I was muttering to myself, certain an elastic band would do, however I came up empty-handed. There was only one other place to look in the bathroom, so trying to be as quiet as I could, I opened the wal cabinet. I hated the fact that I felt like I had invaded his privacy, and dread flooded my system the moment my eyes rested on what was inside.

My blood ran cold as I took in the two rows fil ed with little orange containers. Lots of them. Each one contained pil s. Why would anyone need this much?
Did
anyone need this much?

My heart was pounding; my whole body

developed a light sweat as I reached out to pick up a bottle. The names of some of the medications meant nothing to me, while others were familiar. They were sleeping pil s and strong painkil ers. It was futile even trying to understand what they were al for. The name of the patient they’d been prescribed for was unfamiliar.

Benjamin Samuels. Why did Jonah have this Ben

person’s medications?

I didn’t understand this. I’d gone from euphoric sex

–
amazing
, euphoric sex with Jonah, to utter confusion. I tried to calm myself, to look at this logical y, but no matter how I tried to spin it, this came down to one thing. Jonah had medication that wasn’t his.

Each of the containers in the cabinet had been opened, so Jonah or someone else had actual y used them. The dates that the prescriptions had been filed were al relatively recent.

He used drugs that weren’t meant for him.

I stared at the name on the bottle again; the letters blurring as my eyes fil ed with tears. These didn’t belong to Jonah, nor did any of the other containers of medication. What the hel was going on?

My body began to shake, as my head started to

connect the dots in a random sequence of events. It listed each time Jonah had been unnatural y assertive, those occasions when he just didn’t seem like the Jonah I’d grown used to. Tonight brought the dots ful circle, because he’d been unusual y erratic and hadn’t tried to explain it. I’d even asked him if he was high!

I should have known. I
did
know. Something was different. Jonah had been affectionate, demanding, and yet, it had been a complete contrast to the previous time we’d had sex. This time it was about urgency, heat, and desire, whereas before it had felt comforting and sensual. I wasn’t a child, I was wel aware that the night of the attack I’d needed that kind of soothing, but for months he’d been a quiet enigma, and I didn’t see how it was possible for him to change so much after one night on his couch. I slumped onto the seat of the toilet, holding two containers in my trembling hands and battling to keep my tears from fal ing. There had to be a reason Jonah had so much medication in another person’s name. Maybe I was just being overly dramatic; the rooftop sex kil ed off the brain cel s that dealt with logic.

“Stop blubbering and think, El e,” I berated myself. I shivered, pul ing Jonah’s robe tighter around me. The robe couldn’t keep out the chil that had settled in my bones around the time the dread did. I could smel him al around me, and it only made my emotions more tumultuous. My heart stopped beating when he tapped on the door.

“El e, are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“Um, I...I’m fine. I’l be out in a minute,” I squeaked.

“Hot chocolate or coffee?”

I stammered, stil not giving him an answer, until eventual y he said he’d make both and left me alone. I stood, placing one of the containers back into the cabinet, but pushing the other one into the pocket of the robe. I was going to confront him. It was my only option.

I clenched the bottle in the pocket of the robe and stepped out into the apartment. Jonah had switched on a couple of low lights, giving the room a warm glow.

“Hey,” Jonah said, placing a steaming mug onto the kitchen counter. “Decided what you want yet?”

I shook my head, inching closer. I opened my

mouth twice with the intention of speaking, yet the words seemed lodged in my throat. He eyed me, pushing his stil wet hair away from his forehead. I skimmed over his body, noticing that he’d replaced the towel with a pair of sweats. I was thankful that he was no longer half naked, because I knew my determination would’ve crumbled had he not clothed himself.

“What’s wrong, Red?”

That was my cue. He was giving me a way in, so with my hands stil shaking I pul ed the meds from my pocket and placed them next to the mug on the counter. I watched his throat constrict as he swal owed.

“I wouldn’t have thought snooping was your style,”

he replied cool y, not quite meeting my gaze.

“I wasn’t
snooping
. I was trying to find something to tie my hair back. It’s wet.”

“You could have just shouted out.”

The warmth had left his blue eyes, and now I was greeted with detachment. It was as if he was seeing someone else; not me, and that hurt more than I was wil ing to admit. Jonah Quinn had started to mean something to me, and this scared me far too much.

“Are you expecting an explanation?”

He rounded the counter and sat down on the

couch; the couch where we’d been intimate. Pain sliced through me; it hurt to look at it, hurt to look at Jonah.

“Don’t I deserve one?”

My voice was quiet and feeble, and I debated

walking out, as he spoke again. “In truth, that depends on what you’re expecting.”

“Are they il egal?”

He shook his head, making his dark, almost black hair flop forward. I didn’t know if he was in denial. He rested his elbows on his thighs and stared down at his hands. My stomach began to rol with nerves. Why wasn’t he denying it? The longer he remained silent, the sicker I felt.

“They’re in the correct containers, El e. Why would you assume they’re il egal?”

“They aren’t in your name. They belong to

someone else,” I accused.

“Do they?”

He final y looked up at me, raising a brow, waiting. I couldn’t look him in the eyes, they were like sharp shards of ice, piercing into my very soul. Instead, I focused on the ink that decorated his flesh. I gritted my teeth and tried to calm down. His avoidance was starting to anger me.

“Wel of course it’s not your name! What kind of reply is that?”

“Why don’t you do a little more snooping? Maybe you’l find your answer.”

“Hey!” I raised my voice, unable to control my annoyance. “Why don’t you feel I deserve an answer? Al I want to know is what these are;
whose
these are! I thought there might be a reasonable explanation, but the more you avoid the question, the more I start to wonder what you’re hiding.”

“Why are those pil s any of your business?”

I slumped to sit on the edge of the coffee table.

“I can’t believe you just said that. I thought, wel , I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought, huh? This clearly isn’t what I thought it could be. So you don’t care if I leave here thinking you’re a thief and an addict? Nice, Jonah. Real nice.”

“You’re leaving?”

I waited, not wanting to go, but as the silence stretched, he stil didn’t respond. I knew I had no choice. I stood up, handing the bottle of meds over to him. When he didn’t take them, I tossed them onto the table anyway. I gathered my wet clothes from the floor as slowly as possible, hoping he would stop me. He said nothing else, only let out an exasperated sigh.

Was this it? And if it was, why did I feel this way?

Jonah was either al of those horrid things that were currently racing through my head, or he didn’t trust me with the truth. Either scenario didn’t sit wel with me, so I walked to the door and turned the handle to open it, my wet clothes in hand.

“The meds aren’t il egal,” he uttered. “They’re mine.”

“Are you saying that in the hope that I’l stay?

Because to be honest, Jonah, I feel used right now. I wasn’t spying on you or raiding your medicine cabinet. Al you had to do is tel me something,
anything
, but you didn’t. You turned it on me, as if I was the one that was out of line.”

“I’ve told you that they’re mine,” he replied, sadness lacing his tone.

“Too late. I’ve reluctantly shared myself with you and twice you’ve stomped al over me and fucked it up. I understand that you’re a private person. I thought you were shy, but it seems right now like you just weren’t under the influence. I can’t do this, Jonah. I
won’t
do this.”