“It’s not even an option,” he says with a light laugh, and I want to dissolve.
It’s his laugh that really twists the knife, like it’s a joke. Of course he’s not interested in me. I’m not polished or accomplished or any of the things he’s probably looking for. The team had to buy me work clothes, for god’s sake. I’m a mess. Of course he doesn’t want to be attracted to me. How inconvenient for him.
Fine. I don’t care.
I find my disinterested bartender stare. “Obviously.”
He stills, meeting my eyes, and I can’t read his expression. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” His eyes stay on my face, and he looks like he wants to say more. “Do you want a fire?” he asks, instead, gesturing at the wood stove.
“Nope.” I want this interaction to be over. Now. I’d rather freeze into a block of ice than extend it any longer.
He nods once. “Well, I guess I’ll say goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
His gaze dips to my mouth and he turns away fast, striding up to the house like he’s hurrying to get away from me.
CHAPTER 42
TATE
It’spast midnight and I’m still lying in bed, wide awake, staring out the window at the night sky.
A date. She thought I was on a date. And she looked... unhappy about it? Or maybe that’s wishful thinking.
Which is a fucking problem in itself.
Regret yanks in my chest at telling her I didn’t want to be attracted to her. I don’t. It’s inconvenient.
She agreed with me, so I don’t know why I keep thinking about it. She doesn’t care. Just because we’re finding a rhythm working together doesn’t mean she likes me. Or is attracted to me.
I rub the bridge of my nose, groaning, thinking about the way I wanted to kiss her tonight. How she looked at me from beneath her thick lashes, the long fringe of her bangs, with total trust. She told me why she didn’t finish school, something she probably hasn’t told anyone. A deep sense of pride spreads through my chest, tightening in my groin.
Jordan trusting me turns me on. How fucking weird is that? She’s so guarded and cautious, though. Watching her open up for me is addictive.
I think about an alternate scenario, if I didn’t leave the guesthouse tonight. If instead of being firm about the future of our relationship, I did what I wanted and kissed her.
What would she taste like? Would she make a soft noise as Icoaxed her open? Would her breathing speed up? Blood rushes to my cock and my balls ache with need. Maybe her palms would come to my chest, nails digging into my shirt as I kissed her harder and backed her up against the bed.
Over my boxer briefs, I palm my erection, picturing her lying back and giving me that small smile of hers as I pull her clothes off. She’d be wearing one of the bra and underwear sets the stylist bought her. ThatIbought her.
I can’t be doing this—can’t be thinking about her like this. Guilt washes over me but my thoughts go to my bedside table. Where her pink lacy panties are.
I’m scum and I hate myself but I still reach over and pull them out. I’ve studied them a dozen times since they appeared outside my door and I’ve thought about doing this a dozen more.
I wrap the delicate lace around my left hand and pull the waistband of my boxers down with the other. My cock rests on my stomach, hard and already beading with moisture at the tip.
Just once. It’s wrong but I’m just going to do it once and then I’ll give them back and never think of her like this again.
With the hand wrapped with Jordan’s panties, I squeeze the base of myself, biting back a moan as the ache intensifies. She’s so fucking pretty, I bet she’d look incredible in these. I give myself one light, slow stroke, my awareness narrowing on the feel of the fabric against my cock. She’s mouthy, too. No one talks to me like Jordan does. I stroke again, harder this time. I bet she’d be mouthy and defiant in bed until I got her on her back and buried my face between her legs. My hand moves again, faster, with a tighter grip. Her noises would be obscene. They’d change my whole life. Shivers run through me, and my balls tighten, drawing close to my body as I work my fist over my cock, faster and harder. Images of Jordan’s smart mouth and fascinating eyes and lovely smile play behind my closed eyes. My heart races, my thighs are tense, and my free hand is in my hair, tugging in agony as my release closes inon me. The light abrasion of her panties between my hand and my cock keeps her front and center in my thoughts. I think about pulling these panties off her with my teeth, about tasting her wet cunt after teasing her all day, about bending her over my desk and fucking her without caring who would see. I think about her moaning my name over and over as she tightens around my cock and I think about coming deep inside her.
I think about her letting go for me, trusting me like she trusts no one else, and I can’t take it anymore.
“Fuck, Jordan,” I moan into the pillow as heat races up my spine, through my tense limbs, burning through my thoughts.
I release all over my stomach and chest, more than ever before, groaning curses as pleasure sweeps through me.
When it’s over, I lie there, catching my breath, eyes on the stars outside, waiting for the relief that comes with this. Waiting for my inappropriate thoughts of Jordan to fade away.
