Chapter Eleven
Later that night,I lay on my side in bed, looking at Jordan. My muscles were lax and a little sore and I barely had the energy to keep my eyes open.
The moonlight highlighted the sharp bone structure of his face, casting shadows beneath his cheek and brow bones. Still, even with his face in partial darkness, I could see the gleam of his eyes as he looked back at me.
“I’m not complaining but what brought that on?” he asked, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I tucked my hands beneath my cheek and stared at him. “You were driving me crazy.”
His low chuckle seemed to surround me in the darkness. It felt intimate and…right. “Driving you crazy? How? By taking you to dinner?”
I scoffed quietly. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know what you were doing. You kissed me every night like you wanted to tear my clothes off and then walked away.”
Jordan reached out and pulled me closer, tucking my face against his chest and pulling my left leg over his hip. I settled against him, enjoying the scent of his skin and the sound of his heartbeat against my ear.
“I did want to tear your clothes off,” he replied.
“So why didn’t you?”
“Because you said you wanted something different than what we had before.”
“Hmmmm.”
I felt and heard his short laugh since my ear was pressed against his chest.
“I told my aunt about you this week.”
I tilted my head back to look at him. “Your aunt?” Only once during our previous time together had Jordan mentioned her. When his parents died, he’d moved to America to live with her as she was his only living relative.
Jordan smoothed my tangled hair away from my face. “Yes.”
“What did you tell her?” I asked. I knew Jordan enjoyed my company, and obviously sex with me, but I wondered how he saw me. The shield of his reserve had thinned this week, but he still held a part of himself back.
“That I was seeing a beautiful, intelligent attorney I work with.”
While I wanted to inwardly preen at the compliment, I was also aware that his description of me could be applied to most of the women at the firm. “And what did she say?”
“Something along the lines of ‘Finally! When can I meet her?’,” he replied.
Afraid that my face would give me away, I moved back into my previous position with my cheek resting on his sternum. “I think I’d like to meet her,” I stated softly. His hand began to run up and down my back in a long trail from shoulder to hip. “I told my dad about you too,” I continued cautiously.
“And what did he say?”
“Something along the same lines.”
Jordan’s hand hesitated for a moment before continuing the upward stroke to my shoulder blade. “I’d like to meet him.”
I smiled at his reply, glad that the idea of meeting my father didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable. Still, it was soon.
“Maybe we could all meet for brunch in a couple weeks,” he suggested absently. He sounded relaxed and content, his accent thickening his deep voice.
Loving the sound of it, I cuddled closer to his body. “Sounds nice.” Since I wanted him to keep speaking in that gorgeous, hypnotic tone, I asked, “Will you tell me about your aunt?”
His hand slid to my lower back, resting there. “What do you want to know?”
“When did you move in with her?”
“When I was eleven.”
