The Culmination (21 page)

Jonas clenches his jaw. “Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and starts pulling me away.

“Wait, we have to say goodbye to Reed and Will.”

“Barry, will you say goodbye to Reed for us?” Jonas says thinly, and, without waiting for a reply, he pulls me roughly away again.

“What about Will?”

Jonas levels his smoldering gaze at me. “I think you’ve already said plenty to
Will
.” He pulls roughly on my arm. “Come on.”

Jonas pulls me through the crowd like I’m a rag doll, moving persistently toward the front doors of the club. Our progress through the large room is slow, though, because the crowd is dense—and also because pretty people keep stopping us, wanting to high-five me or hug me or take their photo with me. “No, sorry. No,” Jonas keeps saying. “No, we’ve got to go.”

He’s actually being kind of rude, in my humble opinion. All these lovely people want to do is show OAP Cruz some love, and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than return it. All I want to do right now is hug a whole bunch of pretty Thai people and Australian tourists (or are they Kiwis?) and kiss them and maybe even stroke their shiny hair, too. Gosh, they’ve all got shiny hair. Oh, and look at the lights. The lights are so bee-yoo-ti-ful. Amay-zing. Oh, and I wanna touch that guy’s jacket, too. I reach out and touch it. Oh, so soft.

“Photo?” someone asks.

“Yes,” I purr.

Jonas pulls forcefully on me. “No.”

“Baby,” I say. “Stop so I can hug my loyal fans.”

“No.”

“Well, then let’s pop into the bathroom so I can suck your dick.” I giggle.

Jonas doesn’t even pause. “Hardly the time or place, Sarah,” he mutters, his voice as hard as granite.

Oh man. We’re definitely not on the same page here. “I want you so bad right now, Jonas P. Faraday. I wanna touch your naked body and run my hands through your hair and roll around in a big pile of feathers with you,” I say brightly.

Jonas stops dead in his tracks and stares at me, his lips parted with surprise. “Sarah, are you
on
something?” he whispers.

I giggle and put my hand over my mouth.

“Jesus Christ, Sarah.” He looks around briefly. “You’re
on
something?”

I nod and bite my lip.

“Holy fuck,” he says. His eyes blaze like he’s ready to murder someone. “Don’t say a fucking word until we’re safely in our hotel room. Do you understand me? Not a single fucking word.”

“Word.”

“Sarah. Goddammit—”

“Okay, okay. But what if I say I want to take off all my clothes and rub myself against you from head to toe and sit on your face?”

He grabs my shoulders. “Sarah. This isn’t a joke. Don’t say a word. Not here. Not in the cab. Not in the lobby of the hotel. Not a fucking word until we’re safely in our hotel room—do you understand?”

I touch his face. “You’re so beautiful, Jonas P. Faraday. You’re like a Greek god—have I ever told you that? I’m so in love with you—now more than ever.”

He grabs my wrist roughly and pulls my hand off his face. He leans into my ear. “We’re gonna be fucked if we get stopped. This is fucking
Thailand,
Sarah. I’m not gonna tell you again. Shut the fuck up and don’t say another motherfucking word.” He’s absolutely seething with rage.

I nod. He’s so sexy when he’s angry.

He yanks on me roughly and pulls me to the front of the club, tossing tiny Thai people out of his way as he goes.

I know in my brain he’s mad at me, but I can’t help but feel sheer elation, regardless. Being on that stage was just pure euphoria—and now I’m going back to my hotel room with the man I love more than life itself to make love to him and feel him touching my skin. Oh man, that’s a
good
night, bitches. I’ve never felt like this before. So carefree. So unfiltered. So
bad.
It feels
amay-zing
.

Jonas keeps pulling on me, his taut muscles leading the way. Holy fuckballs. He’s hot. I just want to roll my naked body all over his bare flesh and lick his balls and suck his dick and sit on his face and then dance through a big pile of leaves while singing “Dancing Queen.” And then curl up in his lap and let him sing “Take Me to Church” to me—off-key, of course. Oh God, I’m the luckiest girl in the whole wide world. My husband loves me and I love him. I’m mustard, bitches. Enough said. Except that it’s not enough said. Not at all. “Mustard,” I say out loud, my body slack as Jonas pulls me along through the crowd. “Mustard, bitches.” I laugh. “Bee-yotches. Mu-u-u-u-s-tard.”

Jonas stops and puts his hand over my mouth. “Stop,” he says. “I’m warning you. Shut the fuck up.”

I shake my head. Or should I be nodding? What did he say, again?

I nod and flash him a thumbs-up with my free hand.
I’ll be a good girl.

And my thumbs are telling the truth. I’ll be a very good girl. Starting now.

Yup, I’m a very good girl as Jonas pulls me through the doors of the club into the warm night; and a supremely well behaved chickadee as he stands next to me on the sidewalk, trying to hail us a cab in this crazy effing city; and an exemplary female specimen when he roughly shoves me into the back seat of a taxi (even though, quite frankly, I’m mightily disappointed he didn’t grope my ass when he pushed me into the cab). But once we’re safely ensconced inside the back of the taxi, my entire body relaxes and I melt into the car seat. “Oh, man, I feel like—”

“Ssh.” Jonas literally gags me with his fingers, instantly shutting me up. I giggle and start sucking on his finger. He looks like he’s going to explode with anger, but he doesn’t remove his finger—which makes me giggle and suck even more.

Jonas glares at me—but I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, if a grown woman sucking on your finger in the back of a taxi in Bangkok doesn’t make you smile, you really should take a chill-pill.

The car pulls up to the front of our hoity-toity hotel and Jonas pulls his finger out of my mouth. I’m about to speak, but he covers my lips with his palm and shakes his head, commanding me not to speak. I wink at him and he flashes me a look of pure rage.

Once we’re inside our suite in the hotel, Jonas shuts the door behind us with a loud bang and whips around to face me, his eyes blazing. Uh oh. He’s only looked at me this way once before: the time I went off plan with Max and Oksana in Las Vegas.

“Jeez, Jonas,” I say. “You look like you wanna—”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Jonas yells. “I’m so fucking furious at you right now, I don’t even trust myself to come near you.” He crosses his arms over his muscled chest, shaking with his rage.

“Oh,” I purr, my arousal spiking. “You’re so hot right now, baby. Just look at how your biceps are bulging. Wow.” My clit is suddenly thumping inside my panties.

“What are you on?”

I bite my lip. “Um.”

“
What the fuck are you on, Sarah
?”

“Well. Gosh. Let’s see. Hmm. Well, first off. I drank a shitload of champagne, thanks to my sweet, hunky-monkey husband.” I wink at him, but he’s not the least bit amused. I clear my throat. “Then I had some more champagne and a couple shots in the club. And then I was OAP Cruz—which you undoubtedly saw—and I frickin’
killed
it, by the way. Ka-
bam,
bitches! ‘Crash into me with that thang, yo, yo; back it up and do it again.’” I shake my ass like I’m a back-up dancer for Beyoncé, but Jonas remains stone-faced. I laugh. He’s so silly. “Wasn’t that
awesome
tonight
,
baby?”

Jonas gesticulates wildly. “
What the fuck are you on
?”

“Hey, you’re
gesticulating
, baby,” I say. “
Gest-i-cu-late
. Almost as good as
spelunking
.
Gest-ick-yoo-laaaaaate,
” I say, letting the word roll off my tongue like I’m saying something very dirty. “Oh, I know.
Kuuuumquaaaat.
”

“Sarah, oh my God. You’re insane right now.
Focus
.”

I focus on his beautiful face. “Okay. I’m focusing.”

“Did you smoke
pot
?”

“Oh, why, yes. Thank you for asking. I smoked some weed with my homeys in the dressing room, ’cause that’s how we rappers dooz it after a show. And then, right after that, I popped a teeny-tiny magic pill—something I’ve never done before in my entire life, you know, because I’m usually a very, very good girl.” I smile. “And now, I must say, my dirty girl just wants to
touch
you and suck your dick.” I stick out my tongue, inviting him to slide his cock right onto it like a hot dog on a bun.

Jonas looks utterly flabbergasted. “Holy shit. Did you take
Ecstasy
?”

I nod and move to him. “Yes, sir, baby-sir. The culmination of human
possibility
.” I run my hands through his hair. “That’s how the Greeks defined it. Ecstasyyyyyyyy.”

He grabs my hands out of his hair and pins them to my sides. “What the
fuck
is wrong with you, Sarah? What. The. Fuck!”

I laugh. “I dunno.”

“This is so far from funny. Who the fuck gave it to you? Was it Will?”

I nod and giggle. “Will is my new bestie.”

“This isn’t funny
at all
, Sarah.
Not at all
. Oh my God.”

I pull the second white pill out of my pocket. “Well, you might think it’s a whole lot funnier if you take this.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Jonas grabs the pill out of my hand and marches into the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush. He storms back into the room. “Are you fucking insane?”

I shrug. “Quite possibly.”

“Who the
fuck
are you right now? And what have you done with my wife?”

I laugh. “I’m Sarah Faraday, baby. Your loyal and loving wife. Always.” I grin.

“Do you have anything else?”

I shake my head.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing but love for you.”

“He didn’t give you
anything
else?”

I shake my head. Or should I be nodding? No, I’m pretty sure shaking my head is what makes sense right now.

“In your pockets?”

I shake my head again, trying to keep myself from smiling.

“Anything in your purse?”

“Nothing else, Jonas. Jeez.” I walk toward him. “I just want to touch you.” I put my hands into his hair again. “So soft,” I say. “Delicious. I want you to brush your soft hair over my nipples, okay, baby? Rub your head against my nipples and—”

He grabs my hands abruptly. “I can’t believe you did this. We’re in fucking
Thailand,
Sarah. Jesus. Of all the places in the whole fucking world to go completely off the rails and act like a complete fucking idiot—you pick
Thailand
?”

I shrug. “Sure looks that way.”

“Holy fuck, listen to me.” He shakes his head. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

I laugh and reach for his face. “I just wanna touch you, Jonas—”

“Stop. No.” He grabs my wrists again, his nostrils flaring. “Don’t you understand what could have happened? Cops in Thailand are notoriously corrupt, always looking for a bribe, especially from Westerners.”

God, his lips are so beautiful when he speaks.

“They can stop you for any reason or no reason at all and make you do a pee-test.”

How is it possible he’s even
more
gorgeous than when I first met him?

He releases my wrists and I immediately touch his face again. “Stop it, Sarah.” He grasps my wrists again. “Listen to me. If a pee-test comes back positive, you’re fucked—totally at the cops’ mercy. They can demand any amount of money from you, throw you in jail for however long, do whatever the fuck they want to you.” He releases my wrists. “And you never know who’s snitching to cops—taxi drivers, hotel clerks—you never fucking know.”

Oh my God, he truly is a work of art. I touch his face. God, this man makes me so freaking happy. I love him so, so much. I touch his luscious lips as he tells me something about taxi drivers and hotel clerks—exactly what, I’m not sure.

He pulls my hands off him. “You wanna spend five years in a Thai prison, Sarah?”

I’ve been watching his beautiful mouth move all this time, not listening to the words he’s saying, and now, all of a sudden, there’s silence. His lips have stopped moving. Is he waiting for some sort of reply from me?

“Well?” he finally asks.

Oh, hmm. Sure seems like he expects a response from me. I nod.

His face flashes acute anger.

Oops. Wrong answer. I shake my head.

Jonas looks up at the ceiling. “Never in a million years did I think
you
of all people would
ever
do something this fucking
stupid
.” He shakes his head again. “Who the fuck am I married to, Miley fucking Cyrus?
Fuck
.”

“Will told me the pill would give me the most amazing orgasm, and I—”

“What the
fuck
?” he booms. He makes a sound that reminds me of a volcano erupting. “That motherfucker talked to you about having an
orgasm
?”

Wowzer-cats. Jonas’ face just ignited into a five-alarm fire.

I nod and then shake my head, not remembering which is the right answer. What were we talking about again?

“Will promised you an amazing orgasm, did he?” He’s trembling with his rage.

Holy crappola. If Jonas were any other man looking at me this way, I’d cover my head with my arms in anticipation of getting smacked across the face.

He takes a huge breath, obviously trying to calm the rage coursing through his body. The “external jugular vein” in his neck (which I can confidently identify thanks to my run-in with a certain Ukrainian hitman in a bathroom) is bulging like crazy.

“You’re so freaking beautiful, Jonas, especially when you’re angry,” I say. “I love you so much.” I begin unbuttoning his jeans. “I’m gonna give you the blowjob of your life to apologize for how bad I’ve been tonight.”

He grabs my hands roughly. “Stop. Sarah. Just
stop
. Listen to me.”

I nod.

“I don’t even know where to begin with you. Will you just listen for a second?”