JonahCallabot @JonahCallaBot

"Shut up!" I hiss, giving him a warning as I glance around, hoping the air marshal didn't catch that. He chuckles and squeezes the back of my neck in a way that could look platonic, except his fingers find their way past my hair to linger against my skin.

With a heavy sigh and a soft curse, he tosses the pot back onto the counter. My stomach does a nervous but victorious flip as he reaches over his head to yank his shirt off. "Don't say I didn't take care of you out here," he warns, stalking toward me.

I frown. "Wait. Where are you going?" He gives me a look. "You said you were thirsty, so I'm getting you water from the river."

Jonah walked me out in the rain three times last night and howled with laughter every time I ran out of the dingy, dark little box. I never peed so fast in my life, and I hated every second of it.

"How'd you sleep?" Jonah calls out suddenly, his voice especially gravelly with the morning. "Pretty good." I clear the scratch from my throat. "A bit thirsty." "Well that's a huge surprise," he mutters wryly. "That water we had should have lasted us a week."

"Give me a minute." He presses a kiss against my forehead and then deftly maneuvers me off him.

"And, so damn beautiful..." He whispers, the words skating over me in a warm breeze.

He pulls away to peer down at me, his hand pausing its ministrations, his blue eyes shrewd as they study mine. "You know you're perfect, right?"

"But I'm not your type. You know, blonde and leggy." His brow arches, but in his gaze I see confirmation of a guess. "That's not my type." "But you said-" "You're my type." His voice is gentle but he levels me with a steady gaze.

Jonah's eyes climb up my body and then drift again, stalling several times. "You're cold." "Yeah." Even though every inch of my skin feels like it's on fire under his gaze. "Better hurry up and finish, then," he murmurs with a crooked smile, my clothes dangling from his grip.

"Take them off," he demands softly, his voice low. "I'll hang them so they can dry."

"Your clothes are soaked," he murmurs, his hands sliding over my backside to test the hem of my tunic and my leggings, pausing to grip each side of me tightly, his fingertips digging into my flesh in a delicious way. He abruptly pulls away and takes two broad steps back.

"You have been driving me fucking insane for days and I couldn't hold myself back for one more second."

"You asked why I kissed you." "And you said it's because you wanted to." "That wasn't the right answer." He reaches up to smooth the wet strands of clingy hair off my forehead, his gaze wild as it skitters across my features.

"Give me your wet things." "All my things are wet," I mutter, shrugging off the slicker and the flannel jacket. Even the hem of my tunic is soaked. Jonah's gaze stalls on my chest a moment before holding out his hand.

"You're Wren's daughter." I frown. "Yeah..." What's he getting at? "About what you said in the plane. I know where you were going with that." His brows furrow lightly. "You're Wren's daughter. I would use you like that."

"What else did you want to ask me?" he murmurs. "Why did you kiss me today?" "Because I wanted to, and I knew you wanted me to." He pauses. "Am I wrong?" "No."

The deep chuckle that carries through the headset sends shivers down my spine and makes me smile dumbly. I'm becoming addicted to making him laugh.

"Was that exciting or what, Barbie?" I shake my head in exasperation at him. "That girl ran like I've never seen anyone run before," my dad murmurs. "She wanted to make sure the ground finished me off." I wanted to make sure you're okay. Because I was worried. Because I care.

"Funny, she told me I looked like a yeti earlier," he murmurs, lifting a binder off the table, his penetrating gaze scanning it.