The afterglow of her release faded, leaving a painful tightness in her chest. Years of living under the fashion industry’s harsh eye should’ve made his words feel like a rejection. But Jordan saw all her sides, and she saw all of his.Which was why she knew this was him rejecting himself and not her.
She suspected there was a reason he never finished inside her, a reason that had nothing to do with her or his desire to do it, and everything to do with the past that constantly weighed him down with guilt and inner turmoil.
She saw it, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet. Many parts of Jordan remained a mystery, and she knew she shouldn’t pressure him to talk about it if he wasn’t ready.
Whatever they’d built over the last few weeks had slowly chipped away at his walls, and in the cracks, she caught precious glimpses of the sensitive man beneath. She didn’t want to scare that part of him away, but she did want to show him that he was safe with her, that he was more than worthy of coming inside her. More than that, she wanted him to. Badly.
Dipping her fingers through a stream of pearly white liquid on her quad, she spread it across her thigh, down to her still wet and swollen center. A groan rumbled from him, but that wasn’t what made the desire reignite in her belly. It was the way he watched her, his pupils dilating, eating up all the warm brown of his irises as they followed the movement of her fingers. She loved him like this, consumed by a primal desire that matched hers.
“Maybe I like it when you make a mess of me,” she whispered, her own voice hoarse to her ears. “Maybe I want you to make a mess of me all day.”
He laughed, or maybe it was a sob. She couldn’t tell because he was still enthralled by her fingers spreading his cum around her sex. Whatever the sound, it was choked.
“Damn, woman.” He tugged her forward, settling himself once more between her thighs. “Do you never need a break?”
“Do you? Because I know you’re middle-aged, but?—”
He crushed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. “Since when is thirty-eight considered middle-aged?” Another kiss, slower this time. “You should know I could go all day, princess. But for the record, I’ve also got months of pent-up need to deal with, and as much as I want you, taking care of you matters as much to me. Maybe even more.” His hand lingered on her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. “So, if you’d do me the honor of setting your very impressive libido aside for an hour, I’d like to take you out, feed you, spoil you, then...drag you right back to bed. Sound good?”
He couldn’t be real. He’d admitted that he’d killed people. He’d spent years in prison. Yet he spoke like a poet. A soul searcher. A Romeo.
Either she was the luckiest woman on earth, or he had the best con in history going. She decided it was the former. Wiggling out of his grip and off the countertop, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Give me thirty minutes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
She took nearly an hour. While she showered, with the outside door open so she could watch the ocean, he cleaned up the mess they’d made in the kitchen, and the bed.
Being tidy might have been the only way he’d made his mother proud. He didn’t like mess. It made him anxious.
When he’d been growing up, he and Sean had been given chores. Cleaning the kitchen had been his, while Sean was tasked with taking out the trash and vacuuming. They’d both been expected to keep their rooms clean.
When his father died, Jordan had been given more responsibility, which he’d ended up shirking more often than not as he got more involved with his crew. Before his mom got sick, he’d spend weeks away from home, sleeping in the spare bedroom or on the couch of the house his boss kept for their meetings and illegal business.
Even at that place, he’d been the one to tidy up. His friends had ragged him for it, but quickly changed their tune when they realized it wasn’t half bad not living in a fucking pigsty.
When his mom got sick, he’d spent more time at home again, helping Sean, bringing home money when he could.
He let the memories fade as he sanitized the counter. No sense in thinking about the past. He couldn’t change a single part of it, no matter how much he wished he could.
“So here’s the thing.” Vanessa’s voice filtered through the kitchen. It was huskier than usual. Must be from all the screaming of his name she’d done in the last twelve hours.
“What’s the thing, princess?” He leaned his elbow on the counter and took her in. Even wrapped in a towel, hair damp, and face bare, she was distractingly beautiful.
“Well, I blame you really.”
“Of course you do.”
“You let Nat pack for me.” Her expression was incensed. “If you’d asked Murray, he would’ve done a better job.”
Unable to hide his smirk, he crossed his arms. “Did she forget to pack your toothbrush?”
“She forgot to pack a lot of things.” Vanessa tossed her hands in the air. “I have a week’s worth of thongs and a pair of leggings, and two cropped t-shirts I was gifted by a designer but can’t get over my head. I think she thought you were taking me to a nudist camp.”
The laugh burst from deep within him, shaking his shoulders and hurting his cheeks. He thought he’d forgotten how to laugh like this. But she’d dragged it out of him more times in the last month than he’d managed in his whole adult life.
“I’m glad the possibility of me freezing my ass off amuses you. Excuse me while I go hide in the bedroom for the rest of this…” she lifted her hand in a vague gesture. “hostage situation.”
She turned on her heel and took off toward the bedroom.
