Fighting for Flight JB Salsbury (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

slowly brush my lips against his. His grip flexes against my bottom. I make another pass at his lips, and another, then open my mouth and allow the tip of my tongue to drag against his full lower lip. He reaches into my hair and tugs gently, angling me to him and taking no prisoners. His lips cover mine, tongue thrusting into my mouth. A groan rumbles against my palms, sending my blood soaring. His kiss is possessive and dominant, and I moan into his eager mouth. Without warning, I feel the sunbaked metal of my car against my back as Jonah pins me there. He grinds his hips into my belly and my legs go weak. Time passes, minutes or hours I’m not sure, as I lose myself in his kiss.

“We need to slow down before we get arrested for indecent exposure.” His wicked grin and hungry eyes have me thinking it’s worth the risk.

He holds me firmly against the car until my breathing calms and I regain the use of my legs.

“You okay?” he asks, a wolfish smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m good.”

With two steps back, he releases me from his hold, but grabs my hand.

He shrugs one shoulder. “Show me your place.”

I head for my apartment in a Jonah-induced fog. Will I ever get used to being with him? Or will I be stumbling over my feet every time we’re together.

“Ray!”

Just steps from the alley, I hear the unmistakable call. Guy is standing in the bay, his glare so tight I can’t see the color of his eyes.

“Um, I’ll be right back.” I let go of Jonah’s hand only to feel him hold on tighter.

“No. I’m coming with you.” His expression is relaxed, but determined.

This should be interesting. Guy has never seen me with a man before, mainly because I’ve never dated one. And now here I am, walking hand in hand with The Las Vegas Casanova.

“Hey, what’s up?” My unusually high voice has Guy’s scowl narrowing.

He looks back and forth between Jonah and me, his eyes darting from our joined hands to our faces. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh, uh . . . well, we just—”

“Raven and I are dating, sir.”

Guy’s face goes from pinched and small to wide and slack. “Dating.”

“Yes, sir.” Jonah pulls me to his side, letting go of my hand and throwing his arm over my shoulder.

I smile up at Guy, who’s back to glaring. This time, it’s aimed directly at Jonah.

“Didn’t know you were the dating type, son.”

My heart races at Guy’s blunt confrontation of Jonah’s reputation.

“Never was. I am now.” Jonah’s answer is accompanied by a firm squeeze.

I want to jump up and down at the certainty that laces Jonah’s words. Instead, I wrap my arm around his waist and hug him to me, smiling huge at Guy.

His face relaxes, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Right then.” He points in Jonah’s face, putting on his best fatherly expression. “Behave yourself.”

Now it’s Jonah who’s fighting a grin. “Yes, sir.”

With a curt nod, Guy walks back into the garage. I exhale the breath I was holding and lead Jonah to the alley. That went well, but if I know Guy, we’ll be talking about it later.

We take the stairs to my door, and I watch the playful humor slide from his face. I grab my keys and open the door.

“This is it.” I motion for him to enter.

He glowers around the 500 square feet. “It’s . . . cute.”

I’d be embarrassed if I thought his distaste was due to my poverty, but it’s clear in the way he checks out the street lights and the locks on my door that he’s concerned for my safety. My heart beats a little faster.

“Make yourself at home. I’m going to change and grab a few things.”

Thankful that I hit the laundromat a couple days ago, I pull a black lace bra and panty set, my favorite jeans, and a black tank top into my arms. I step into the bathroom and slide the curtain closed. Changing quickly so that Jonah doesn’t have to wait, I brush on some mascara and swipe on lip gloss. I grab my toiletries and walk back out into my room.

On the way to my backpack, I freeze and bite back my smile. Seeing a UFL Heavyweight on my tiny twin bed makes it look like a Twinkie. I lose the battle and a laugh shoots from my throat. He looks at me like he knows what I’m laughing about and totally agrees.

“Can you imagine both of us in this bed? Or hell, just me?” He looks perplexed while he studies the bed from top to bottom, which sends me into full-fledged hilarity.

“If we stay here, you’ll have to sleep on the floor.” I manage to say through my giggles.

His hazel eyes darken, his amusement replaced by something tangible and consuming. “Not sleepin’ on the floor, babe. I’m starting to think of a few different ways we could fit.”

I suck in a breath and try not to fidget as electricity vibrates between us.

Breaking the moment before we set something on fire, I shove things into my backpack. Jonah gets up from the bed and goes to the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. I do a quick mental inventory of what’s there, hoping he doesn’t find anything embarrassing. Thank God, I got rid of the Kama Sutra book Eve gave me on my last birthday as a gag. Other than a Bible, some romance novels, and a few pictures, there’s nothing much to see.

“That’s insane,” he says with wonder in his voice.

He picks up a small framed picture that I know is of my mom. It’s the only picture I have of her. I took it before I moved out, wanting to keep something of her, even if she wanted nothing to do with me. I remember catching her on the couch after she worked late. She had taken a long, hot shower, as she always did after work.