Unwritten Rules (17 page)

“But, Jonah, I don’t-”

“You won’t,” he interrupted. “Not yet, though I know I could tel you in time. Bear with me. I’m getting there.”

I reached out and took his hand in mine,

squeezing gently in reassurance. “I wil wait, but you won’t get my blind faith forever. I like you, and I know you’re stil hurting, but sometimes you have to take the leap. Even if you think it might make the pain worse.”

He nodded and mumbled in agreement, then left

me on the sidewalk as he took the skates into the store. I stepped back, leaning against the wal to ensure I could see everyone in front of me, and waited for him. I contemplated our conversation, wondering just how long I’d be wil ing to wait for the truth.

Jonah’s lip ghosted my jaw, his touch so featherlight it made goose bumps break out across my skin. My foot skimmed the back of his thigh, moving higher until I could wrap my leg around his hips. His body blanketed mine, making me feel warm and protected.

I could definitely get used to snuggling with Jonah. He had come down to my apartment under the

guise of watching a movie. We didn’t make it past the start of the trailers before we were necking like teenagers on the couch. It was exhilarating, because Jonah never pushed to go further than the kissing and groping. Maybe he needed this kind of connection too; a step back from the intensity we’d experienced at the beginning of our relationship. We could write new rules where the rules had once been unwritten. It felt right; it felt real.

His need was evident as it pressed between the apex of my thighs. We both continued in a slow, seductive perusal of each others’ mouths and bodies. His hands stayed on top of my T-shirt, skimming up my ribs and resting just below my breast. I squeezed my thighs, adjusting my hips and eliciting a gasp from him. I mumbled an apology, because I hadn’t meant to tease him. He smiled down at me, flashing his dimples before placing a quick peck on the tip of my nose.

“I know. Is this okay, Red?”

I cupped his face in my hands, smoothing the dark hair that had fal en across his forehead. His eyes were hooded and fil ed with lust. Looking at him made my toes curl. I licked my lips as anticipation flowed through me.

“This is pretty perfect right now,” my sigh swiftly turning into a gasp when Jonah began nibbling at the pads of my fingers.

His face was alight with pure mischief seconds before he sucked a digit into his mouth. My eyes rol ed back, lost in the sensation of his tongue as it swirled across the tip of my finger.

“You’re not playing fair,” I sniggered, trying to hide the breathlessness of my voice.

He gave a short shrug but continued feasting on my flesh. The movie continued to play on the television, it served as a distraction, but I was al too consumed with Jonah. When he released my finger with a pop, I wanted nothing more than to tease him back. I grazed my nails down his chest, making sure they raked across his cotton covered nipples. Jonah hissed and reared back a fraction. Empowered by his sounds, I slipped my fingers underneath his shirt and danced them back up his ribs. The hum that tunneled through his torso made my fingers vibrate and another shiver wracked my body.

“You seem to get very cold around me,” Jonah

pointed out, the sarcasm very clear.

“Then you’d better lie back down and keep me

warm.”

“Cheesy,” he laughed, flopping onto his side and pul ing my back close to his chest.

I lifted my arm and wrapped it around his neck, surprised when he cupped my breast.

“Just keeping it warm,” he rumbled against the side of my throat.

“I’m not sure where this cocky Jonah came from. He certainly isn’t the one who blushed and rushed up the stairs when I said
hi
.”

He nipped my earlobe. “I was merely lul ing you into a false sense of security. Now I have you exactly where I want you.”

“And that is?”

He pushed me onto my back again; his body

looming over mine. “Underneath me.”

I melted, ready to sink into a slow, luxurious kiss when Jonah yelped. I frowned, looking around him to see Meow pawing at Jonah’s ass. I lifted Meow into my arms where he began purring loudly. Jonah petted his head, muttering in annoyance, which made me giggle more.

“He didn’t mean to hurt your tushy.”

“He made damn sure I took my hands off you.

Stupid cat.”

I kissed his cheek, cal ing him a baby as I rested my head on his shoulder. He grumbled but settled down, and we watched the last thirty minutes of the movie. I had no idea what was going on, so I al owed my mind to wander. I started to put together the bits and pieces I knew about the man beside me.

“What sort of artist are you?” I blurted out.

He stil ed, probably startled by my rather random question, and it took a moment before he answered. “I write and il ustrate graphic novels.”

“Oh, my God!” I squealed, jumping up so quickly Meow fel to the floor.

He looked around frantical y, trying to work out the cause of my outburst. I slipped across the floor toward the bookshelf and pul ed the novel from between two books.

“This!” I shouted excitedly.

I raced back over to him, taking in the

awkwardness of his posture. He was tilting himself away from me, rubbing the back of his neck. He was actual y blushing, just as he had so many times at the mailboxes.

“I bought this the morning I came to see you at
Cellar
. It cal ed to me. Now I understand why. It’s yours, isn’t it? You do this!”

He shuffled on the couch, not reaching for it until I shoved it in his face.

“The guy at the store
loved
you. He said your preorders were already through the roof. I can’t believe this is you!”

I was bouncing with enthusiasm, whereas Jonah

looked as though he could crawl under the coffee table. It was rather cute, enamoring me even more.

“Yeah,” he admitted, flipping the book over in his hands. “It’s me. I’m, um, kind of stunned that you frequent the stores that sel them.”

“I wasn’t. I had a tiff with J.J. on the street and strutted into the nearest store. That’s when I saw this. There was a huge cardboard cutout. It was a hooded figure like your tattoo.”

“Not a comic book geek then, Red?”

I sat down next to him, snorting as I shook my head.

“Damn! I bet you’d look hot with the glasses and pocket protector.”

I slipped a leg over his and straddled his hips. The ease in which we interacted was reassuring. I al owed him to set the pace, aware that going too fast could blow our progress to smithereens. I didn’t want that. Jonah Quinn took a new piece of my heart with every passing day. I pressed my forehead to his, hiding us in a curtain of wavy red hair. “You know, I do wear glasses...”

It came out as a sultry purr. I felt an instant shift in his sweats.
Something
was, without doubt, interested in my eye wear. When Jonah spoke it sent shockwaves through my body. It was guttural and oozed sex.

“What do I have to do to get you to wear them?

Only
them?”

My pulse responded by beating double time. It

was growing rather warm in the apartment. “Um...I...”

Jonah chuckled at my stammering, loving the fact that he’d been the one that made me speechless after al the times I’d done the exact same thing to him. His fingers squeezed my hips, before burrowing under my T-shirt and gripping my bare sides. I fought the urge to rock against him, opting instead for a kiss. Our tongues met moments after our lips did, and we both exhaled in contentment. I stroked my hands up the back of his neck, pushing my fingers into his hair. He moaned then gently pul ed away. I shifted my hands to his shoulders, staring down at him in uncertainty. His lips were slightly swol en; his cheeks tinged pink, and his blue eyes were fixed on mine.

We stared; only the sound of our breathing fil ing the silence. His fingers flexed where they held my waist. I could see a smal tick on his jaw where he was gritting his teeth. I was about to climb off him, because he was fighting it. He was right to. Hadn’t I surmised earlier that we had to carve a new path? One that went backward before it could move forward?

“We shouldn’t,” his voice was merely a low

rumble, but I stil understood its implications. If I said we could, if I took the reins, he would buckle.

“I know,” I croaked out, shaking my head. “But it’s your fault! You asked me about my glasses in
that
tone.”

“I have a tone?”

Jonah was trying to act innocent even though he knew exactly what he had done. Struck by inspiration, I climbed off him and went to col ect a pad and pencil from my desk. I placed it on the low coffee table and sat down on the floor, patting the space beside me. Jonah raised his brows in question and didn’t move.

“Teach me how to draw. One of those superhero

thingies, and then I’l show you just how hot I look in glasses, Mr. Quinn.”

“Promises, promises,” he tsked, sliding off the couch and getting comfortable on the floor next to me. He moved the pad of paper and took hold of the pencil, preparing to draw what I hoped was the image that he had tattooed on his ribcage. I became mesmerized by the quick sweep of his hand across the paper. The sure strokes appeared haphazard at first but swiftly began to merge into a person before my eyes. He was so talented; it was no wonder that people were desperate for his next offering.

“Who taught you how to draw?” I realized before I’d completed my question that he may retreat back into himself, but I was very curious about him; his life.

“My mom was,
is
, an artist. Guess it’s in the blood or something.” His comment was offhand and blasé, yet I saw it for what it was. A step forward for us. He was giving me a little of himself.

I decided not to push it, and therefore asked

nothing more. I was content studying how beautiful his hands were, how quickly he drew the character and how lost he became in his work.

“What about you? What do your parents do?” He

didn’t look up as he asked the question, nor did he stop his sketching.

“Mom’s a teacher. Kindergarten. She adores it. I don’t think she’l ever retire. She says the kids keep her young.” Jonah nodded as grief settled around me. “My dad died a couple of years ago.”

He placed his pencil down and took hold of my

hand, easing my pain. “I’m sorry. Were you guys close?”

“We al were. I don’t have any siblings, so we were tight knit, know what I mean? I’l always miss him.”

“We’re never meant to forget the ones we love,”

Jonah sighed wistful y.

He gave my hand a tight squeeze and returned to his drawing. “So, where is home, Miss El e?”

I smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood. “Cape Cod. I miss the beach.”

Jonah stil ed. “Your mom has a house on the

beachfront? That takes some cash,” he gasped, but apologized right after. “Sorry, that was a bit out of line.”

“It’s okay.” I shrugged. “You’re not the first person to point that out. The house belonged to my grandparents, so Mom inherited it when they passed. I’ve lived there pretty much al of my life. I stil wake up shocked when I can’t hear the sea. You?”

“Philadelphia.”

His face turned to me; his eyes wide with shock as he realized he’d spoken without thinking first. I was certain he hadn’t meant to let it slip, so I redirected the topic and pointed at the paper.

“That’s amazing.”

He grinned, linking his pinkie in mine and nodding at the paper. “Your turn.”

“There is no way I can do that!” I protested. “I suck at drawing. I was teasing you. I just wanted to see you draw.”

Jonah clicked his tongue, placed the pencil in my hand and held it firmly in his. Our joined hands began moving across the paper, Jonah’s gentle voice guiding me. I leaned into him. I would have been happy to sit like that for the rest of the day.

“Have you had any more attacks?” I blurted out. Jonah’s hand stopped. “You’re al about the kil er questions today, aren’t you?”

“Sorry,” I winced. “I should have been a bit more tactful, I guess.”

“No,” he replied, cupping my face. “You’re

unpredictable, and it’s perfect. Don’t change that.”

“Okay then, are you going to answer me?”

He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering longer than they needed to. My eyes fluttered closed.

“No more attacks. I’ve been taking my meds like a good boy.”

“That’s good, huh? It scares me to think of you suffering alone. Would you cal me? If you did have one, I mean?”

He was silent for far longer than I’d have liked.

“You wouldn’t, would you? You would try to deal with it on your own. Oh, Jonah.”

He kissed my forehead again, and then the tip of my nose, fol owed by a lingering one on my lips. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, because you have more of me than anyone ever has. I just think there are some things you don’t need to be burdened with. I don’t want you to feel like you have to look after me.”

“I don’t,” I protested.

“Maybe not now but further down the line you

might,” he paused. “I just want whatever time we spend together to be clean. Pure.”

I tilted my head, taken aback by his words. “You think your anxiety and depression are
dirty
? Jonah, you’ve been through a lot, and with no support system to help you. Your meds don’t make me think any less of you.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through, so don’t make excuses for me,” he retorted sharply.

He lowered his gaze; the shame he felt from

whatever had happened to him coming between us once more. My feelings for him spil ed over. I wrapped my arms around him and breathed a sigh of relief as he relaxed into me. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck.

“You’re too good to me,” he admitted, his arms tightening around my waist.

“Just remember that when I start asking for free drawing lessons,” I replied trying to lighten the mood. He chuckled; his response making me laugh too.

“I don’t think sketching is your forte. Maybe you should stick to beautifying the internet.”

“Hmm, maybe.” I pul ed away, grinning with glee.

“What? You look rather maniacal.”

“Do
you
have a website? Do you want me to beautify you?”

He pushed me onto my back, sprawling me

across the floor, before prowling slowly up my body.

“There are plenty of things you can do for me. Beautifying me is not one.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I drawled. “More of this ink would make you look even sexier.”

Jonah kissed my chin and flicked his tongue

across my lower lip. “You like the tattoos?” He asked, his uncertainty coming across loud and clear.

His insecurities made my heart swel . He had no idea how to function in a loving relationship, and the fact that he was trying only made me soften more.

I nodded, licking my lips slowly, and watched his pupils dilate with arousal. “Were you thinking of getting more?”

He paled. I had to wrap my legs around his hips to stop him from retreating. I asked him to tel me what was wrong, peppering his face with the smal est of kisses until he final y gave in.

“The tattoos I have al mean something to me.

Maybe one day I’l add to them.”

“Maybe one day you’l tel me what they mean...” I trailed off.

He was saved by the buzz of his cel , and within a few short minutes I was kissing him goodbye.

“Tomorrow? At
Cellar
?”

I agreed, kissing him one last time before he left me alone in the apartment with a wealth of new information to digest.

Jonah Quinn’s shel was final y cracking.

“So you haven’t had sex with him since the rooftop interlude?” J.J. asked, leaning back against my bedroom door.

“Wil you be quiet? The window is open, and

Jonah could stil be home!”

She huffed, wafting her hand in dismissal before reaching over my vanity, picking up the lip gloss. “Is there a reason you guys have taken a major step back? You’re not teenagers you know.”

She was annoying me today; it was as if

everything that came out of her mouth irritated me. I was trying my best to ignore it.

“You know why!” I shot back, checking my

appearance in the mirror. “Jonah scared me that night, J.J.”

“So you think he’s unstable? Is that why?”

I met her gaze through the mirror, and even though she was grating on my nerves, her expression held sympathy. I exhaled, slumping onto the edge of my bed in defeat. J.J. came and sat next to me, placing her arm around my shoulder and waited for me to elaborate as I tried to keep myself from becoming too emotional.

“Maybe you should stop this before anything

starts. El e, don’t feel tied to him because you had some great sex a couple of times. I can understand you feeling gratitude because he saved you, though that’s no reason to make yourself sad. You don’t owe him.”

“You’ve got it al wrong,” I protested. “He’s not unstable. He just has a few problems.”