MAYBE I HAD HIT MY head on the dash without knowing it because this Jon, the thoughtful and sweet man who fretted over me like I was someone worth taking care of, was a man I didn’t know. Maybe I was suffering from stress induced illusions.
“What do you feel like eating? Do you want me to make you something or grab takeout? Kate, you look a little pale, why don’t you sit down. Are you sure you feel okay?” His brown eyes were soft and sweet. I must be hallucinating.
Yeah, this wasn’t my pissed off temporary roomie of late.
“I’m just tired, Jon. All I want to do is take a hot shower, get something to eat and then fall asleep for a few hours.” I attempt to ease his concern. The muscles in my neck pinch with a dull discomfort but other than that I feel fine. My car on the other hand, looks a hot mess.
“Okay, you get a shower and I’ll run to the store and get a few things.” He’s out the door before I even make it down the hall. My cell phone sounds from inside my purse but I don’t have the energy to deal with anyone, so I let it go to voicemail and fill the small bathroom with steam. As I peel off my clothes, the weight of the day’s activities hit me like a ton of bricks. I twist to adjust the water temperature and cringe in pain. My muscles are tight and stiff.
Stepping into the shower, I let the warm water pelt my skin. I take my time washing my hair and skin, and let my mind relax and go black so I can enjoy these few minutes of peace before reality hits.
I shut the water and use a towel to rub clear the steam on the mirror. Ugh. I look tired and worn despite the shower. Drying off, I wrap the towel snuggly across my breasts. I finger comb my hair, fix my bangs so they’ll dry straight, and walk to my room to change into shorts and a tank top.
Jon must still be out because I don’t hear anyone moving about the apartment. I grab my phone and sit down on my bed. Several missed calls and voicemails from numbers I don’t recognize. I’m one popular lady today.
“Hello Miss Bryant¸ this is Dave from Aaron’s Auto. We are working up an estimate on your damages but probably won’t be able to get back to you ’til Monday. If you have any questions give me a call before we close today, otherwise I’ll be in touch.”
Great. I’ll probably be without a car for this week, maybe next. Why can’t I do things the easy way?
“Hey, babe, Marc gave me your number and said I could contact you if I needed anything. Anyway, I need for your little hot self to be at our show this Tuesday night. Email our manager the names of anyone else you want to bring. VIP access and the vocal stylings of yours truly. What more could you ask on a lame weeknight?” Trent’s deep chuckle sounds through before he leaves a short, “Bye, love.”
I pull my phone back and stare at it with a mixture of confusion, shock, and delight. Was he really that arrogant and self-assured to leave a message without his name? Yes. Trent was the kind of man who knew what he wanted and went for it. I admired that, found it extremely sexy, but realistically the only reason he was flirting was because I was the latest catch he hadn’t caught. I knew how guys like him worked. Never being rejected or having to work for it made the chase all the more fun.
Programming his number into my phone, I hear the front door open.
“Kate?”
“In here.”
Jon fills my doorway as a grin pulls at his lips.
“Have a good shower?”
“Delightful.” I grin and roll my eyes.
“Good. I brought sustenance!” He lifts a bag to reveal Chipotle. Squealing with joy, I clap my hands from the edge of the bed.
“You are my angel!” He frowns at my compliment.
“I feel manlier than an angel.”
“Using the word manlier makes you less manly.”
“Noted. So, let’s get you fed so you can take a nap. Eat in here or kitchen?”
“Here is good.” I scoot until my back hits the headboard and fold my legs comfortably. Jon walks to Evie’s dresser and places the bag on top.
“Wait here.” He jogs out of the room and returns seconds later with a baking sheet.
“Food’s already cooked. I don’t think we need that.” I raise a brow in question. Jon chuckles.
“Here. I don’t do fancy shit, but when you want to eat in bed—” He places the tray on my lap, opens the Chipotle bag, and arranges napkins, fork, food, and drink on top. “A cookie sheet works just as well.” He smiles proudly and I giggle. It’s sweet.
“Hey, how did you know this is my favorite?” I shovel a bite of rice, chicken, and guacamole goodness into my mouth.
“Oh, please, you and Evie, always going on about ‘Chipotle is my life,’ how could I miss that? I hope it’s okay?”
“It’s wonderful.” I say between mouthfuls. I didn’t realize how famished I was until he brought the food. So good.
“What’s your pleasure?”
You. My head pops up and I swallow the mouthful of food. “What?” I snap out of my food lust coma to find Jon messing with the controls of the remote. Oh. For a second there… Never mind.
“Grey’s.”
“You and Evie and that damn show. What’s so special about it?”
“You’ll just have to watch to find out. Wanna stay and watch it with me?” Jon pauses to look over his shoulder, his gaze intense and searching my own. For what, I don’t know.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll stay and watch a little while.” I can’t help the giant grin that spreads across my face. I swear I catch him grin before he turns his attention back to the remote. Finished with my food I turn and set the tray on the side table. Ouch. I wince as pain slices down my spine.
“You okay?” Jon is at the side of the bed in seconds, brows furrowed with concern.
“Just my neck and back. I guess playing bumper cars wasn’t the greatest of ideas.” I reach an arm to rub the base of my neck. He chuckles.
“Scoot.” I inch my body forward, still sitting on the bed and watch in fascination as the man toes off his shoes and socks. He moves with purpose and a gentleness that I find in complete odds with his large, muscular male frame.
He steps onto the bed behind me, sitting and cradling me between his long legs. Clicking play on the remote brings an episode of Grey’s Anatomy to the TV hanging on the opposite wall. His big, strong hands move to my neck and he uses his fingers to knead my sore muscles. It’s sweet and intimate. I sigh in pleasure, both at the feeling of his fingers moving across my skin and at the relief they bring.
Oh hell. How did I not know Jon had such skills in the massage department? I’m aroused and blissed out at the same time, and unable to focus on the show at hand.
“So she’s torn between the two doctors?”
I’ve no clue what’s happening on the screen. “Mmmhmm.” Jon laughs.
“That feel good?” He works his fingers lower. They make their way all the way down my spine and I let my head and body fall forward to give him better access.
“Please don’t stop what you’re doing.” I manage to get out.
His magic fingers move over my tank and I wish he’d peel the fabric away so we could be skin to skin. My skin warms yet I shiver in response to the explicit thoughts racing through my mind. My phone pings from the bedside table, alerting me to an incoming message, but I ignore it. Nothing, and I mean nothing, takes precedence over this man’s fingers working me over.
Jon’s fingers still when my phone pings again. The bed sinks and his hands are gone. I whip my head up to find him grabbing his socks and shoes.
“What’d I miss? Where are you going? That felt really good.”
“I’m glad I made you feel better. Looks like you’ve got someone you need to talk to.” He nods over to my cell and turns to leave the room. I’m confused. Why is he leaving? Things were just getting good. Guys don’t leave when things get good. I leave them. I reach for my phone and grab it. Jon turns once more at the doorway.