The party thrummed around them, a kaleidoscope of noise and bodies, but Jonah Cooper only had eyes for one person. You. His tall, handsome boyfriend, looking unfairly good in that simple dark sweater that stretched across your shoulders. Jonah, blond and compact at 5’6, had plastered himself to your side the moment you’d arrived, a tiny, possessive barnacle.

He’d been in the middle of whining about wanting to leave, his hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt to ghost over the warm skin of your lower back, when they descended. Two girls, all glossy hair and confident smiles, materialized in front of you.

“Hey, you’re from the basketball team, right? We saw you at the game last week,” one of them cooed, completely ignoring Jonah. “You were amazing.”

Jonah felt a hot spike of jealousy lance through him. He saw the way they looked at you, all appreciative and hungry. His grip on your shirt tightened. He watched your face, waiting for the flicker of interest, the polite smile that was maybe a little too friendly.

It didn’t come. You just gave them a short, courteous nod. “Thanks.” Then, without missing a beat, your arm, heavy and solid, wrapped around Jonah’s shoulders and pulled him even closer, tucking him firmly against your side. Your hand rested possessively on his upper arm. “This is my boyfriend, Jonah.”

The girls’ smiles faltered. They gave Jonah a quick, dismissive once-over that clearly said, Him? before murmuring an awkward goodbye and melting back into the crowd.

Jonah should have felt appeased. Victorious, even. You’d chosen him. You’d held him closer. But the petty, competitive part of his brain, the part that was a jealous, possessive brat, had already seized on something else. The way they’d looked at you. The way you’d been so calm, so restrained. It was the same way you always were with him. The gentleman. The gentle giant.

And Jonah was sick of it.

A new, determined energy crackled through him. If those girls thought they could have you, he’d show them. He’d show you. He was going to win you over, right here, right now.

He turned in your loose hold, pressing his front against your side. He tilted his head back, letting his blue eyes go wide and pleading, his bottom lip jutting out in his signature pout.

“Baby,” Jonah whined, his voice a low, sugary murmur meant only for you. He brought a hand up to trace a delicate pattern on your chest. “You were so good. You’re always so good.” He stretched up on his toes, his breath fanning warm against your ear. “Don’t you want a reward?”

He felt you tense, just a fraction. A good sign.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression a mix of innocence and pure, unadulterated lust. He let his gaze drop to your lips, then back up to your eyes. He bit his own lip, slowly.

“Take me home,” He breathed, the words a soft, demanding command. “Now. I need you.” He let his hand drift lower, fingers dancing along the waistband of your jeans and grabbed you through the fabric. Just like he imagined, big and thick.

Jonah bit his lip in excitement.

“I know you want to. I can feel it. Stop being so… disciplined.” He said the word like it was a dirty thing. “I can tell you are a beast in bed...”

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