Cherishing You (Thirsty Hearts Book 3) Read online

  “Wasn’t that a barbecue?” Vivienne rolled her eyes. Jonah ignored her question.

  “I’d like to take her. She’d enjoy it.”

  “A, I’m sure there’s a lot you’d enjoy with her. B, I don’t think she’d enjoy being picked apart by our parents’ friends. You don’t even want to go that event. Neither do I.”

  “If Shannon wants to get into your business, she’ll have to get comfortable with a finer set. I don’t see the problem. I’ll be with her.”

  “The problem is that look in your eyes when you see her. You’ll dazzle her with fine parties and elegant food, and she’ll get attached.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “You don’t do attachment,” Vivienne reminded him. “I’ll be blunt. You can’t dick around with her like you did Emily and all those other girls. They get mad, but then they go cry on the shoulder of some new, hot property in a foreign luxury car. Shannon would be wrecked.”

  Jonah disagreed that he “dicked” around with his last girlfriend, Emily, or anyone else, but he especially took offense to his sister’s characterization of Shannon.

  “You’re not giving her enough credit. She’s not a naïve little girl.”

  “Fine. You keep pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. However this turns out though, Jonah, be kind.”

  Jonah downed his cognac to let the sting of the liquor take the sting out of his sister’s words.

  “Ahh, so it’s me you’re giving little to no credit.”

  “She’s a newbie to our brand of jungle. I don’t want to see her eaten alive—by anyone.”

  Vivienne glared at him.

  “No one’s eating anyone, Vivienne. Unless it’s by consent. Now, I need another drink,” he retorted, jiggling his empty glass at his sister.

  She shook her head. Let her disapprove. Vivienne’s lack of faith wouldn’t keep him from getting what he wanted.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shannon held up a square of poster board painted with a cheerful shade of yellow she picked out for the small kitchen and dining area. She wanted to check it one last time before she started on the walls.

  “I think I’ve finished taping every baseboard within a five-mile radius of the place. You are guaranteed clean lines,” Jonah boasted.

  Shannon waited on Jonah the day before and mentioned to him that she would be painting her apartment the next day after her early shift. To her surprise, he jumped at the chance to help.

  “I can move furniture. Tape. Lift heavy cans of paint. I’ll make an excellent assistant.” His eyes had held a silvery spark of humor. Shannon’s stomach flipped at the thought of a shirtless Jonah knocking around her apartment and couldn’t say no.

  Repeated thoughts of Jonah shirtless in a pair of low-slung jeans popped in her mind. Or Jonah in one of his sharply tailored suits. Jonah casual in his closely draped golf shirt. Or just Jonah without anything on at all.

  Warmth radiated from her core. She shouldn’t let herself get carried away. Jonah Moran lived in a world apart, but a little fantasy didn’t hurt. Or, she hoped it wouldn’t.

  “Perfect. I’m going to start on this wall, painting around the sliding glass door. You want to start over there?” Shannon pointed to the wall where her sofa normally sat. Jonah moved it to the hallway leading to the bedrooms and covered the hardwood floors with canvas drop cloth.

  “Sure. Ready to go. This is the fifth project I’ve had in the past couple of months.”

  Shannon looked at him sideways.

  “You do your own handyman work?” She attempted to sound less incredulous than she was. He probably had staff on call for that sort of thing. Shannon realized suddenly that she had no idea how or where Jonah lived.

  “Don’t look that surprised. Although, no, I don’t do my own handyman work. I’m still a handy man,” he smirked.

  “Who’s getting all this handy work? Do you have a stable of women calling you to their houses?”

  Jonah chuckled. “No. Nothing so seedy. I volunteer with Habitat for Humanity. There’s a neighborhood in Southeast Dallas where we’ve renovated a handful of houses. Most of them have been in the painting stage of late,” Jonah replied, dipping his roller in the tray of pale golden paint and making an “X” on the wall, then filling it in.

  More charity, Shannon thought. She wondered if that’s how he saw her. She slapped her roller on the wall, flinging a small spray of paint on her face.

  “Careful. If you put too much up, it’ll drip. Here. Get that off before it dries.”

  Jonah grabbed a damp rag from the rim of a small bucket of water. He strode toward her and swept the cloth over her cheekbone. Then, he slid a few strands of her hair between his fingertips.

  “You got some in your hair, too. You’ll be a mess by the end of today if you don’t watch out,” he warned with a smile and a wink.

  His fingers never touched her skin, but the pressure from his quick wipe and the brief tug on her hair created hot points of sensation. His platinum eyes bored into her. He combed his fingers loosely through her hair.

  “It’s nothing a hot shower can’t fix. Now get back to work,” she commanded, winking back at him.

  Flirting with him was an inevitable mistake. No matter how sweet or helpful he was, he lived out of her reach. She had no way of repaying him except the one way a powerful man ever expected to be repaid by a woman.

  Shannon chased the idea of starting something up with Jonah around in her head like a cat jumping at laser pointer. The thought captivated her, but she had no hope of getting what she wanted. That she wanted anything at all disappointed her. She didn’t need the distraction of a man—especially not one like Jonah.

  He stepped back and picked up his roller, continuing to sweep it across the wall in a steady pattern of overlapping squares. Shannon watched his progress. He hadn’t lied. He was a good painter.

  “You know, when I met you, you told me you were a bad boy, and I didn’t believe you. Now, you’re telling me that you do all this charity work. You’re not making a great case for your bad boy rep,” Shannon pointed out.

  “I’m a bad boy with a heart of gold. All I need is a chance to show it.”

  “Your bad boy self or your heart of gold?”

  “Either one,” Jonah grumbled as he bent over to pick up more paint on his brush.

  “Well, you’re showing your heart of gold today. I appreciate you coming over and all. Didn’t you have to work today?”

  “I guess. I’ve put in a lot of hours lately. No one minds if I take the afternoon off every once in a while.”

  “Do you like what you do?”

  “Not especially. It’s a living. My father likes the idea of grooming me. Most of the people who work for us like having me as a buffer between them and my father. I’m like Switzerland or a DMZ.”

  “A DMZ?” Shannon crunched her brow, not understanding.

  “Demilitarized zone. When two factions are at war, sometimes they create one as a precursor to peace, or at least a de-escalation of war. My father drives people hard.”

  “You keep saying that you don’t like it. You should quit. Why do something you hate?”

  “I don’t hate it. I just don’t love it,” Jonah equivocated.

  “What would you do instead?”

  “I’ve thought about using my skills in finance for good instead of evil. Doing community development work full-time. I’m involved in fundraising for community initiatives now. It’s the upside of having access to resources. You can help the people who don’t. That’s one of the reasons I haven’t totally discounted running for office.”

  Shannon wondered again why he didn’t do what he wanted, but she had this conversation with Jonah already. He seemed unwilling to see the options in front of him. She didn’t want to draw him a map. He either saw it or he didn’t.

  Shannon dipped her roller again, sliding the paint on the wall and mentally shaking her head.

  “I’ve had lots of jobs I haven’
t loved. Couldn’t wait to get out of each one,” she bit out.

  “Like what? Waitressing?”

  “No. I kind of like waitressing if the place is nice like The Scarlet Maple. It’s hard work, but I’m good at it so the money’s good most weeks. Other jobs,” she mused and stopped rolling for a second to think. “Before this, I worked at Wal-Mart. I’ve waited tables at bars and places where you had to deal with a different kind of people. I’m glad for the job I have now.”

  Shannon avoided telling Jonah the worst of it. Bars were one thing. The strip clubs where she flung drinks at drunk truckers and men telling their wives they were at Bible study—those were another. That wasn’t even the worst of it.

  Shannon thought back to her lowest points when she had done anything she could for a fix. She could show Jonah bad, and she doubted her heart of gold would make up for it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Shannon’s eyes fell to the floor. Jonah tried to think of a quip to bring her back from whatever melancholy reverie had overtaken her.

  He squeezed the handle of his roller brush, pressing it hard into the rough texture of the wall. Tiny streams of paint slid down. Jonah flicked the roller over them to prevent streaking.

  The image of bleary-eyed drunks pawing at Shannon floated across his consciousness. They’d be men like her ex-husband, Wayne, violent and entitled. Even though they were out of her life, they left their imprint on her in the form of faint lines around her eyes and that wary look.

  He said nothing.

  They finished two coats of paint in her adjoined living and dining rooms before Jonah made Shannon relax while he cleaned up. He rinsed the brushes out in the utility sink in the laundry room and surveyed the work area for any missed drips of paint.

  “I can do this,” she professed.

  “I know, but so can I. Why don’t you go take a shower?”

  He hadn’t meant anything by the suggestion, but as he watched her cheeks flush, his groin tightened.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Have at it.”

  Half an hour later, Shannon emerged from her bedroom with a bouncing mass of damp blonde curls, dressed in a loose-fitting T-shirt that swam around her.

  She looked fresh, and even from across the room, he could smell her soap—a sweet blend of strawberry and crisp mint. The shirt pooled nearly to her knees, but its volume couldn’t hide the peaked roundness of her bra-less breasts.

  Jonah should have left while Shannon was showering. He could have put a note on the counter and ducked out. Now, he stood in her living room light-headed from the paint fumes and the rush of blood away from his brain.

  “Thanks again for your help today.”

  Jonah cleared his throat. “No problem. I should get going. We both have work tomorrow.”

  It was only eight o’clock.

  “Sure.”

  Shannon walked to the door, and Jonah followed. She stopped short, and he found himself pressed into the back of her. His groin fitting into her low back.

  “Oh! I have a plastic sheet if you want. I’d hate for you to get paint in your car.”

  “That’d be great.”

  Shannon turned back toward the utility room next to the kitchen. Her hips swayed as she hustled off.

  She came back with her roll of thin plastic sheeting and handed it to him. Their fingers barely brushed, but the contact sent electric jolts through Jonah’s body.

  “Thanks.”

  “You said that, but you’re welcome again.” Jonah flashed his crooked smile.

  “Good night,” she answered cheerfully. She took a step forward as if to hug him, so Jonah opened his arms and enveloped her.

  Up close, the warm, fruity scent emanating from her sent his pulse racing. Instinctively, he lowered his nose into the side of her head and took it in.

  Her body stiffened, and Jonah started to pull back, but then Shannon gripped him around the waist. His hands found the tumbles of her curly hair, and he stared into the round, azure pools of her eyes. He found the welcome he desperately wanted and kissed her.

  He meant to kiss her gently, slowly shifting the tenor of their relationship, but once he tasted her, he lost himself. Jonah ravaged her mouth, hungry to fulfill the pent up desire he felt since the first time she smiled at him. Her plush breasts pressed against his ribs. He imagined their size and how it would feel to hold them, nipples scraping his palms.

  Jonah stepped back, whispering, “Put your arms up.”

  Shannon obeyed, and he yanked her shirt over her head. Her dark peach nipples pebbled under his gaze.

  “You’re perfect,” he rasped, filling his palm with one creamy breast.

  Her mouth sought his again, and Jonah took the invitation to plunder it with his tongue. The softness of her hair, skin, breasts, and lips hardened his cock. Jonah’s hands left Shannon’s sweet body in a race to remove every impediment to plunging between her legs.

  He pushed her underwear down in one swoop. The swerving path of her hips under his hands threw his mind into chaos. An irrepressible grin spread across Jonah’s face, knowing he was moments from satisfaction.

  * * *

  Shannon ground her hips into his, reveling in the feel of his big hands on her ass. She found the edge of his shirt with her fingers and tugged it up.

  Jonah finished her work, pulling the shirt off and going straight for the waistband of his jeans. In no time, he’d pulled those off as well, kicking them into the corner of her living room along with his underwear.

  A shiver went up Shannon’s spine. Jonah Moran stood tall, lean, and naked in her living room.

  His hands and fingers roamed her body. He plucked at her nipples, drew lines of sensation on her stomach with his fingertips, and, finally, pressed them into the moist junction of her legs. Shannon gasped. Heat washed over her. She squeezed her eyes closed, afraid that if she opened them, he might disappear and take her bliss with him.

  He dropped to his knees and replaced his fingers with the tip of his tongue. A sweet shock of delight trembled through her. Shannon arched into his mouth, for a moment, then pulled back.

  She looked down at this man bent on indulging her. Power and vulnerability surged through her in equal measure. His eyes darkened to steel. His mouth parted, and he swept his tongue across his bottom lip.

  “I want more than your tongue,” she moaned and slid down beside him on the canvas drop cloth still covering her hardwood floor.

  He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into a searing kiss. Shannon fell against him, knocking him backward. Taking advantage of him sprawled beneath her, she swung her leg around to straddle his hips. She grasped his stiff cock, angling it where she needed, and sank down. Jonah groaned. Shannon felt charged with the electricity of their union.

  She rose up, nearly sliding off of him, and then dipped again. Jonah gripped her hips hard, helping propel her as she rode him. The friction spawned a delicious pressure at her center.

  Shannon fell forward with her hands braced on his chest. The pleasure built. She bucked frantically, reaching for the ultimate satisfaction.

  Jonah peaked first. He lifted his hips, taking Shannon with him in more way than one. The feel of his explosion with her sent her over the edge. Her outcry met his low grunt. She squeezed his cock inside her, holding him and not wanting to let go.

  When she collapsed on top of him, Shannon hid her face with her hair. The feel of him overwhelmed her. The tremors of her orgasm gave way to those of fear. Would he be done with her? Would his eyes pivot toward the door? Or worse, would he look into her eyes and see how desperately she wanted him to stay?

  * * *

  Shannon stayed in his arms for several speechless minutes, thankful for the silence. They stretched out together, legs entwined. Jonah’s body heat blanketed her, warding off the chill of being naked.

  She longed to ask him, “What are you thinking?” Somehow, having intensely hot sex with Jonah made Shannon feel like a naïve school girl. They’
d both behaved like teenagers, forgetting to even talk about protection. Shannon stifled a groan over her foolishness. Should she say something? She didn’t want to bring it up. Next time—if there was one—she’d make sure they were more careful.

  And no pillow talk. She decided to say nothing and follow his lead. He showed no signs of bolting, and she didn’t want to run him out the door with her mouth.

  “I’m desperately hungry,” Jonah grumbled into her hair.

  “I could cook something,” Shannon replied. She ran through her refrigerator’s contents in her mind. Maybe she had some ground beef to make spaghetti.

  “Do you feel like cooking?”

  Shannon looked up into the steel of his eyes and lost track of the question for a second.

  “Not really. I’m not hungry.”

  “I can scavenge. If it’s okay for me to rifle through your fridge.”

  Shannon snickered. “I give you permission to rifle through whatever you want.”

  He grinned. “Thank you.”

  Jonah pulled himself away from her, leaving her chilled. She sat up and reached for her T-shirt. He had no problem jumping up and walking stark naked into her kitchen. The back of him was as firm and muscled as the front. He was like having a Greek statue in your house.

  Shannon covered her face with her hands and then swept them through the tumbleweed her hair had become. Ignoring how disheveled she must look, she climbed onto the couch.

  This was what she had wanted. Jonah naked. Now, she doubted her decision to leave her pajama bottoms in the bedroom.

  Where could this possibly go? She didn’t have time for an affair. She’d probably end up driving away one of her biggest tippers. Jonah the giver. His generosity in and out of the bedroom enthralled her.

  That their relationship, if she could call it that, wouldn’t last was a foregone conclusion. She imagined seeing that backside walking out of her life. Shannon sighed. All the men she ever knew walked out of her life. She always rallied. She would rally again. Wouldn’t she?