Chapter 8

Jon collapsed on top of me, crushing me comfortably under his weight. His slick body, hot from the exertion of the last hour, stuck to me. I giggled, imagining the sucking sound he’d make when he finally peeled himself off of me.

“What are you laughing at, Brooklyn?” Jon sounded a little insecure, and I immediately felt bad, and turned my head to kiss him.

“Nothing at all, Jersey,” I said. “Just thinking – our bodies stuck together like this, well, it’s gonna make a hell of a dirty noise when you get off me.”

Jon laughed then, a laugh tinged with relief. Jesus, he really had a number done on him. He kissed the back of my neck and whispered in my ear, “I guess I’ll have to stay on top of you until we dry.”

“Darlin’,” I said turning back to look into those beautiful eyes, “having you on top of me isn’t a hardship, you know. But,” I winked at him and smiled broadly. “But, I can think of more comfortable options than bent over the arm of a couch.”

Jon raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Is that so? You aren’t done yet?”

“Hey Jersey, didn’t anyone ever tell you that Brooklyn girls are insatiable?” That made him chuckle. God, I loved making him laugh. The genuine happiness in his face makes him just breathtaking. Do you know what I mean? He’s a beautiful specimen of man, but when he smiles a real smile, well, there’s just nothing on God’s green Earth that can compare.

Jon wrapped an arm around my torso, and I angled my head back for a deep kiss. Before I knew it, he had pulled me up, and I was standing in front of him, still plastered to him. He turned me so I was against the wall again and kissed the shit out of me. His hands were buried in my mane of hair, and mine in his. His mouth devoured mine. Our tongues were dueling, teeth were clashing, and we took from each other until we were breathless. Jon broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine.

“Diana, darlin’, I’m sorry, but I need a minute.” He was looking a little sheepish and shy and it just melted my heart. He pushed a hand through his hair impatiently.

“Don’t apologize, baby,” I said to him, kissing him gently. “Come with me.”

I took his hand and led him back across the hall to where our clothes were dropped. I snagged his t-shirt and pulled it over my head. God, I hope he doesn’t want it back. It came down to mid-thigh on me, which suited me fine, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that it suited Jon just fine, too. I tossed his jeans to him, which he pulled on but left unsnapped, then led him back out to the salon. Damn, he should always wear just jeans. No shirt, no shoes, no socks, just tight denim, unsnapped so he’s ready for action. Drool.

“Have a seat, Mr. Kidd,” I said, as I gently pushed him into a chair. Jon’s eyes never left mine as I raised my arms to wind my hair back from my face. There was a hunger in them that made me tingle. I had him once again lean back to put his head in the sink. I dispensed with the towel and cape (I couldn’t bear to cover up that chest, not just yet) and turned on the water. This time, I made sure the temperature was perfect, before picking up the sprayer, and managed to wet him down without falling on my ass. When I stretched to the shelf above the sink to pump some shampoo into my hands, the t-shirt pulled tight against my chest, and crept up my legs a little higher, making Jon’s breath hitch. I was enjoying every minute of this.

After rubbing my hands together to make a thick lather, I bent slightly to rub the foam through Jon’s hair. God, the feel of that wet silk in my hands was intoxicating. Jon’s eyes closed, and he groaned as I slowly worked the lather through his hair with strong fingers. My hands still buried in his hair, I leaned down to kiss him sweetly and he smiled at me. Sigh. I rinsed the suds from his hair and put a detangler through it. When he was all rinsed, I told him to sit up, and he surprised me by grabbing me and sitting me across his lap.

Jon gathered me close and whispered to me, “Ready when you are, babe.”

Water droplets trickled down the sides of his face and I got a flash of what he’d look like coming out of the shower. I was more than ready for the next round, but wanted to get through this fantasy before indulging in the next. He leered at me, and I giggled like a teenager and tweaked his nose. “Now, you have to wait for me,” I said. “You don’t understand how long I’ve fantasized about having you in my chair. You are not going to deny me this.” With a smacking kiss on his lips, I hopped off his lap, eyeing the bulge that had, just moments before, been pressing insistently, seductively into me. I reconsidered for a moment, but smiled.

I had all the time in the world.

At the very least, I had twelve hours until we opened shop again.