Blue Bunny Read online

  “Where are we going?” I asked Jonah as he strode off out of the hotel lobby, down the street. I had long legs, yet still struggled to keep up with him. I recognised this as Jonah’s angry walk and wouldn’t have been surprised if he left footprints in the concrete sidewalk slabs. “Jonah, I’m not going to trot merrily alongside you willy nilly.” He stopped dead causing me to trip slightly. His hand shot out to steady me, but I shrugged it off. I was still angry with him.

  “Fine, I’ll let you face plant the pavement, shall I?”

  “Sidewalk,” I corrected him, snottily. “It’s only pavement at home.”

  “I stand corrected, although I’m sure the concrete would hurt, whatever you call it.”

  I had to concede to that. I did so graciously with an epic eye roll. Jonah was riling me to the extent my inner brat was clawing to get out. Things could go very bad if I allowed that to happen.

  At last, Jonah came to a halt outside a pretty little café. It was not at all what I expected him to frequent. I gasped as I stepped over the threshold. The entire place was a fantasy land decorated with unicorns, rainbows, mirrors, and glittery decals of flowers, hearts, and more magical creatures. The chunky tables and chairs were an array of pastel colours with colourful menus and tableware.

  “Oh my God, what is this place?” I whispered.

  “The breakfast is meant to be superb,” Jonah replied. I narrowed my eyes at him. There is no way on Earth that he would be seen dead in a place like this. He brought me here because he knew how much I would love it. My heart melted a little bit.

  A hostess, dressed like Alice in Wonderland, guided us to a hidden booth in the back. It was like sitting in a forest. Fake trees created a leafy roof over our heads and when I took a closer look, I could see lots of fake butterflies sitting on the branches. The table was a pastel green slab of wood cut from the middle of a tree, with powdery pink tree trunks for stools. The floor was made to look like thick green grass with little forest creatures scattered about. It was enchanting, tacky, and utterly adorable. I wanted to gush at Jonah how much I loved it, but I held back. No matter that his attempt to placate me was completely wonderful and turned me to mush, it was important not to lose sight of the issues we had to discuss.

  “Welcome to Itsakindofmagic,” the hostess said as she handed us menus. My mouth dropped open at the name of the place.

  “Don’t,” Jonah warned in a deep voice as if he suspected I’d been about to break out in song. Freddy Mercury, after all, was one of my all-time favourite heroes. My brother was named after him for God’s sake. Now, here I was in a café with a Queen song title as its name. I fidgeted, barely able to contain myself until the stern look on Jonah’s face kept me quiet.

  “Then you shouldn’t have brought me here,” I huffed at him. “What were you thinking?”

  He squirmed uncomfortably. “I thought you’d like it.”

  I chewed on my lip. “I already love it,” I confessed, although the smug smirk on his lips made me want to defy him in every way possible. Jonah was familiar with my less than wall flower ways, however, that was usually in a contained environment. Taunting me in public was bound to lead to drawing unwanted attention; something he despised. I began to hum the tune as I perused the menu. A small growl from the other side of the table had me mentally high fiving.

  “Would you like to know the specials?” I jumped slightly having forgotten Alice was standing there.

  “Oh, yes please,” I beamed at her, “but do you think we could get a coffee first. I’m absolutely dying for one.” I grinned at her conspiratorially. “Slightly hungover, I’m afraid.” I could feel Jonah’s eyes on me. “I’d like a mocha latte, if that’s ok? And he’ll have an Americano. No milk. As bitter as it comes.” I heard a slight hiss as the double meaning in my words, meant solely for his understanding, hit home.

  “Elvis,” Jonah implored, “would you at least let me apologise so that we can talk about this.”

  I leaned back against a tree trunk dislodging a butterfly that landed in my bird’s nest of a quiff, not having had time to style it properly before Jonah hurried me out. The more I seemed to try and detangle it, the more it pulled at my roots.

  “Ouch!” I yelped as the tiny metal wings pricked my scalp.

  A large hand batted my fingers away. Jonah leaned over the table to rescue what was left of the fake butterfly before I yanked out more of my hair. His scent engulfed me and I inhaled deeply. I had missed him last night. Despite his appalling, misplaced accusations, I still yearned for him. Part of me knew it was his own insecurities that had made him react the way he had, but he had to understand that he couldn’t go around making uninformed presumptions about people. About me, for heaven’s sake.

  “Oh!” Alice returned with our coffees, obviously startled to find Jonah leaning over me with my mouth perilously close to his groin.

  “Sorry,” I cried from underneath his chest. “Won’t be a moment. Just leave the drinks on the table.” Silence. “Thank you?”

  I heard her place the cups of coffee down followed by the padding of footsteps receding into the distance. Finally, Jonah managed to set the butterfly free from my hair, mumbling about unnecessarily ridiculous amounts of hairspray. He sat back down with a sigh and we fussed over our coffees for a moment. Jonah signalled to Alice who tentatively made her way back over to us, and we ordered our food without bothering to hear the specials. She looked mildly affronted, but relieved at not having to spend too much time at our table.

  “I’m fucking exhausted,” Jonah complained as he took a sip of his coffee. I shrugged my shoulders before taking a heavenly swallow of my much-needed latte. “And I’m very, very sorry for saying those things.”

  “What you said really hurt me, Jonah.” I cupped my hands around my glass of coffee and leaned slightly forward. “Is that what you genuinely think? That I, I whored myself out?”

  “No!” he cried looking wretched. “Of course not. But, I didn’t know, did I. You never told me…”

  “There is a lot I haven’t told you. That’s not the same as keeping things from you, though.”

  “I realise that now.” Jonah studied the bottom of his mug so intently, I wondered if he thought he might find the meaning to life down there. “I’m sorry, ok?”

  “No.”

  Jonah’s head shot up. His expression was one of disbelief. “No?”

  “No,” I repeated stoically. “It’s not ok. I know your reaction was knee-jerk, but it doesn’t excuse it. I realise we haven’t really had time yet to discover everything about each other, I’m guessing that probably takes a good few years, but you should have given me the opportunity to tell you about the photos before hurling hideous insults at me. I can’t let that go, Joe.”

  I watched my husband’s shoulders slump. He lifted his head slowly as if it weighed a ton; his eyes were shiny, filled with sorrow and regret. “I love you so much, Elvis.” He swallowed. “The thought of anyone else seeing you like that filled me with an immediate, intense jealous rage. It was like my brain couldn’t process my emotional reaction. You looked so beautiful and sexy. You’re only supposed to look that way for me, not any Tom, Dick, or Harry that logged on to buy himself lacy underwear for fuck’s sake!” Jonah’s face fell into his hands. “Urgh! I hate myself right now.”

  I cocked my head to study him. The set of his wide shoulders; the flex of muscle in his forearms; his long, strong fingers that had brought me so much pleasure, and I knew I would forgive this man anything. However, he had to acknowledge that I was his husband and not a possession. That his privileged position did not give him the right to judge other people for their choices. And, uh, wait a second. Did he say he’d logged on to buy lacy underwear? My brain stuttered as I recalled he had specifically said buy himself lacy underwear. That Jonah was looking to make an on-line purchase of sexy boy pants to wear for me?

  Call me fickle. I knew I was meant to be piously berating my errant husband for his epic error in judgement r
ight now. But, hello. JONAH KENT IN LACY KNICKERS people! My mind conjured up his gloriously fit, naked body with that amazing physique that drove me wild. Miles and miles of golden skin, muscles on muscles, and tantalising furry trails. And there, in the apex of it all, his delicious cock and balls cradled in lace. Baby pink in my fantasies, although knowing Jonah, he probably went for siren red or vampire black.

  Oh God, what to do? What to do!

  Fortunately, our food arrived providing the reprieve I needed for me to get my thoughts back on track. Not so easy when Jonah knew I was a lace slut. This is why my husband was a multi-millionaire, because he knew just the right way to manipulate people to his advantage. Glancing over at him pushing his food around the plate, I wondered if it had been a calculated move on his part to inject the lace scenario innocently into the conversation, or if he’d genuinely gushed out his feelings impulsively. I hoped it was the latter, but knowing Jonah as I did…

  “Lace, huh?”

  “I thought you might like them.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him while trying to chew on a bacon rasher, which was not like the bacon we had at home. Jonah eyed me cautiously. Based on last night’s choking episode, he had every right to be concerned, I conceded. I swallowed. He handed me a glass of water which I took several gulps of before declaring I was ok.

  “God, American pigs are hard to swallow. Tough as old boots.” I turned my attention to the hash browns and eggs instead. “And you know very well how long I’ve been begging you to show me your boy bits in lace.”

  Jonah took a hasty look around to see if we’d been over heard. “You know they speak English here, right?” he scolded. “They understand every word you’re saying. Do you maybe want to use your inside voice?”

  I froze mid-chew. In a deja vu moment to the previous evening’s meal, I carefully laid my cutlery down on the table. I wiped my mouth with the paper napkin which I then folded neatly and placed next to my plate.

  “What are you doing?” Jonah asked me, sounding quite rightly worried. I glared at him.

  “Apparently, not only do I pimp myself out to the highest bidder and pose nude for the salacious enjoyment of random men, but I also am unable to conduct myself to your liking in public. I am therefore, removing myself from Itsakindofmagic (sung at the top of my lungs) to relieve you of having to be associated with me any longer.”

  Jonah shook his head and rolled his eyes. The rest of the customers in the café stared after me as I flounced theatrically towards the exit. I had caught their attention with my booming vocals and apparent inability to use my inside voice and was feeling rather smug with myself. I rather wished I had a long cape or coat to swish dramatically as I sashayed out of the building.

  However, me being me, what actually happened was utter mayhem. Two things occurred simultaneously. I went to open the door just as someone else was entering, resulting in my being flung backwards, flying arse over tit, before landing unceremoniously on the floor. As my head smacked against the only bit not covered in fake grass, my vision went hazy and I literally saw stars. (I was later to discover they were painted on the ceiling.)

  A screech of chairs followed by a yell and an all-encompassing familiar set of arms was the last thing I knew until I woke up cradled in Jonah’s embrace in the back of an ambulance.

  5

  JONAH

  My heart sat like a big lump in my throat while Elvis lay limp and unconscious in my arms. I was the most frightened I had ever been in my life.

  “Elvis, please, baby. Wake up for Daddy.” Even though we joked about our dynamic, I knew it would appeal to him to hear me refer to myself in that way. With an enormous amount of relief, his long, thick eyelashes fluttered open to reveal his precious baby blues. He looked momentarily confused before letting out a small sob. I gripped him tight until the paramedics insisted they had to examine him properly. Watching from the sidelines screamed against every fibre of my being, despite not having the medical knowledge to care for him myself.

  “Joe…” His voce croaked my name and it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. His hand scrambled for mine. I held onto it tightly, lacing our fingers.

  “I’m here, baby,” I reassured him. The icy grip around my heart began to slowly melt and I felt as if I could breathe again.

  “Sorry. Fucked up again.” His voice was full of woe. I hated that I had brought this on him. I hated myself.

  “No, Elvis. This is all my doing. I promise I’m going to make it up to you.” There was a long period of silence while several procedures to check his vitals were being performed. I prayed Elvis would be ok and there wouldn’t be any lasting effects. Maybe a slight concussion from the bang on his head, but we could deal with that.

  I heard Elvis huff out a long breath.

  “I love you, Bo.”

  My brain stuttered. Had he just called me Bo by mistake? Did he mean Joe? The paramedic taking Elvis’s blood pressure moved slightly giving me full view of my husband’s face. His eyes were closed but a sardonic smile teased his lips. Oh, that little shit. He was playing me for all I was worth. I barked out a laugh of such relief that I startled everyone on board. Elvis was going to be fine.

  “Did you really think I’d done myself an injury?” Elvis was propped up on a million pillows in our bed in the apartment. The paramedics had assured me that there was nothing critically the matter with him, but I insisted we stop by my private clinic for every brain scan available. Only after seeing the evidence for myself that he was fine, was I able to relax and bring him home. The only remedy for his lingering headache was ibuprofen and lots of rest.

  I perched on the edge of the bed next to him. “It was like it all happened in slow motion. I could foresee it all and could do absolutely nothing to prevent it. Seeing you knocked out on the floor was utterly petrifying and I never want to go through that again, please.”

  “I’m sorry. I think I over flounced for once.” Elvis chewed on his lower lip looking genuinely contrite.

  “No, I’m sorry. I started all this with my ridiculous knee-jerk reaction and my outrageous jealous possessiveness. My inability to deal with things outside of my control leads to insecurities, which I know in my heart are not founded. My temper flares in frustration, disabling my brain to mouth filter, and I have to learn to curtail that.” Elvis looked rapt at my uncharacteristic admission of weakness. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “I’m scared you’ll leave me. I’d die if that happened.”

  A cool hand gripped my wrist. “I know what it took for you to confess that to me. Thank you. It’s a good start. I do think we need to address the gaping holes in our relationship that lead to these too frequent dramatic episodes. We both need to work on it.”

  I nodded in agreement. “It’s made me realise we haven’t made enough time to sit and talk about our pasts and generally things we got up to before we met each other.”

  “Be a pretty one-sided convo though, seeings as how I was still a toddler when you left school.”

  “Oi!” I berated him good naturedly. “I’m not that old!” It was a relief to lighten the mood.

  Elvis tugged me down next to him on the bed so he could wrap himself around me, but I wasn’t complaining. I loved being close to him and used the close proximity to deliver several chaste kisses to his deliciously plump lips. And then we began to talk.

  We talked for ages, stopping only for refreshments. Elvis was quite tired from his fall and fell asleep for a couple of hours in the afternoon, giving me a chance to reply to some emails and check out the lacy lingerie situation on-line. I watched over him as he dozed making sure he wasn’t experiencing any discomfort, and even nodded off myself for half an hour or so. As the light diminished and evening fell, I rang to order food to be delivered.

  “Wake up, Elvis, it’s suppertime.”

  A disoriented and mussed Elvis stretched and yawned. “How soon will it be here?”

  “Thirty minutes or so,” I replied.

  “I’d love a
shower.”

  I realised I was also a bit funky.

  “Great idea, let’s go together.”

  I tugged off the heavy duvet and assisted Elvis out of bed. His legs were a bit wobbly but he promised he felt fine and that his headache had vanished.

  It was an indulgence of mine to have bathrooms where I could stay and play for hours. The bath was a huge roll top with clawed feet; clichéd but gorgeous. I’d often lounged there reading a good book or listening to one. The toilet and bidet were discreetly hidden away behind a dividing wall, while a decadent chaise longue sat in the far corner of the room. There was a double sink vanity unit, under floor heating, and a superb surround sound system.

  And then there was the shower. It was almost a room all on its own stretching the entire length of one wall. It was tile and glass and chrome with jets upon jets, ledges for sitting, and shelves holding soaps, oils, shower gels, and shampoos.

  Elvis was also a big fan of this room, citing it as having the only decent décor in the entire flat. It was the one room he didn’t want to change. My oasis of calm in his busy life. It was true, I thought as I looked around. The natural stone, white, and glass combination created a clean, fresh atmosphere that never dated, hence Elvis’s approval.

  “Let me help you,” I urged as he struggled with his pyjama top. He thrust his hands up in the air obligingly, allowing me to pull the garment over his head. I took a moment to appreciate his alabaster skin as it was revealed inch by inch. He had very little body hair. What he did have was a little bit of cute fluff under his arms and beneath his belly button, but elsewhere was simply miles and miles of gorgeous, smooth flesh. I nuzzled his armpit, breathing him in deeply. “I love your body,” I told him for perhaps the millionth time. I was obsessed with every single bit of him.