When I finally collapse back onto the bed, boneless, Jordan kisses the inside of my thigh and whispers, “Happy birthday, baby.”
I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
He crawls up until he’s lying beside me, gathering me into his arms like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held.
“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing hair from my face.
“No,” I whisper honestly. “I think… you broke something inside me.”
He laughs softly. “That's fair, considering you blew my mind, too.”
My cheeks burn with his praise. as I gesture weakly to the large wet spot on his sweatpants. “Jordan… did you just—”
“Come in my pants? Fuck yeah.”
“But… you could have—”
He groans, pulling me tighter. “I told you, I’m not going to take you. Not here. Not now. I need a place where the neighbours won’t hear you screaming.”
I flush hard.
Four hours later in Biology class, the recess bell rings, but I don’t move. I’m still throbbing. Every time I shift in my seat, I’m reminded of Jordan’s mouth, and the way he owned me beforesunrise. I'm spending tonight at his mansion. Molly's covering up for me.
“Sabrina?”
I blink, realizing my teacher is staring at me. “Yes?”
“Are you alright? You look… ill.”
I swallow hard. “I'm just… warm, that's all.”
The teacher looks pointedly at my wool sweater and a few kids snicker.
I don’t care. Because all I can think about is what he's going to do to me tonight.
8
Iwaketoaheavy, warm weight pinning me to the mattress.
Jordan's arm is slung across my waist, his palm spread low on my stomach, his face buried in the curve of my neck. He's breathing slow and deep against my skin, every exhale a warm puff that raises goosebumps along my spine.
After everything we’ve done together, you’d think I’d be used to waking up this way. I’m not. Not even close.
For a moment, I just lie here and memorize it. The quiet. The steady drum of his heart at my back. The way our legs are tangled in an impossible knot under the sheets.
It's been two months since the night I turned eighteen. I've woken up like this once every other weekend since. I should feel… I don't know. Different. Older. Marked. Instead, I just feel settled. Like this is where I've belonged all along.
Sex with Jordan was beyond anything I imagined. I thought he broke my brain that first morning. How laughable. That was him being gentle.
Now I know what happens when he’s not—when he’s hungry, territorial, and undone by too many days apart. When I’ve been teasing him with photos that technically show nothing, but say everything—my collarbone, the curve of my knee, a flash of hipbone.
And last night, the moment he texted me he'd touched down in Henderson, I replied with a picture of me in his bed, wearing nothing but his shirt and burying my nose in his collar.
He didn’t respond.
Instead, he crashed into the house like a storm. He barely made it past the door before tossing his duffel aside and grabbing his belt buckle, yanking it free in one smooth pull.
"Hello, love," he rasped, moving toward me like a predator.
