Page 46 of Rich and Rotten

He chuckled low, like I was a joke to him or something.

“I’m not sleeping on that uncomfortable shit,” he said, stretching like he was already claiming my bed. “We both know those couches are for decoration. I’m in the bed with you tonight.”

It was how his low eyes roamed from my face to my body.

His voice dropped. “How does that make you feel, Yalina?”

It was always the way he said it.

My real name.

He said it with such passion that I often found myself second-guessing what I heard. Maybe I was envisioning something that wasn’t happening. It always made me feel a surge of heat in my chest. Unexpected, and always impossible to ignore. It was like he lifted my shirt and dropped coal straight down the front. He was peeling back a layer I hadn’t let anyone touch in years.

I didn’t respond right away.

I couldn’t.

Because if I opened my mouth, he would hear the tone, the passion, the silent moans behind the words. Granting him the permission he knew he never needed to ask, because it had been silently given.

Breaking out of the trance he unknowingly put me in, I went into the mini fridge and grabbed two bottles of overpriced water.

“Whatever, Jonah. Stay on your side, and I will stay on mine,” I said, setting the boundaries and tossing one bottle to him.

He caught it with one hand, cracked it open, and took a gulp. The room became quiet while he finished the water. It wasn’t an awkward silence…just tense.

I felt the shift. I’m pretty sure he felt it, too. But neither of us wanted to say anything. I would rather pretend I didn’t feel the shift in hopes that he would do the same.

I busied myself with some of the clothes I had left on the couch before my nap. I folded and refolded the clothes I knew I would wear the next day. With my back turned toward him, I could still tell he was sitting with his elbow on his knees and the empty water bottle dangling from his fingers. When I finally turned around, he was already looking right at me as if he had been watching my back the whole time. I pretended to fold the clothes that were already folded. His stare wasn’t like his usual stare.

He was staring through me like he was seeing me for the first time.

Really seeing me.

Seeing the Yalina not everyone got to experience. It was the me that I kept locked away, never allowing someone to experience me in this way. Since being with Sav, I had hidden this Yalina. It didn’t make sense for her to experience this side of me when that wasn’t who she wanted.

“You ain’t gotta keep moving around like you busy, Yummy.” His voice was low, slightly rough with an edge of sleepiness in it. “You tired…come get in the bed.”

He wasn’t suggesting it. He was telling me.

The nervousness spread through my body like a chill on a windy day. My stomach spoke before I could, and I was thankful only I heard it. Getting into that bed meant I would have to unpack some things, and this wasn’t the right moment or the right time. Not when it was after midnight, and the only thing between us was a small decorative pillow.

I sat my folded shirt down on the couch and crossed the room, sinking down onto the other side of the bed without looking his way. He remained at the end of the bed before he stood up. He was standing there like he knew he looked good. Who was I kidding? Jonah was fine.

That little grin could get anything out of any woman, including me. Unlike the hoes he messed with, I had restraint and would never allow his charming smile, beautiful face, and sexy body to convert me to the dark side.

Jonah was the dark side.

He took his shirt off, exposing his caramel skin––every inch of it covered in detailed tattoos that had a purpose and a story. I felt like I could read his entire life story across his body if I looked long enough.

And only God knew that I was looking.

His abs were sculpted, his arms thick enough to carry all that arrogance he possessed. And his beard? Jesus. Jonah’s beard had no business being that full, that clean. As if he went to angels to get his lineup. He always wore two gold chains that rested on his chest, and I imagined them swinging in my face as he hovered over me.

Yalina, stop.

With his shirt off, my attention was now drawn to his sweatpants, which sat low on his waist. Was he doing this on purpose? Was it both a warning and an invitation? His eyes had always been the problem for me. Quiet and intense, like he could see through me. It was like he wanted to say something slick and was waiting for me to slip. Maybe I did want to see what he would do with me. Still, I played it cool like always.

When he turned around, those lips curled into that grin. His lips were the kind that made you pause mid-argument, because even when he was tight-lipped, they looked good enough to suck on. And the Lord knew I wanted to suck on them. His nose was strong, straight, and fitting. Jonah might have come off like a pretty boy, but he had that grown man face––like he’d been through some shit and even participated in it. He wasn’t the kind of man who went down easy.