"Er, Jordan—?" I began, backing up until my knees hit the couch.
He was on me in a flash, binding my wrists behind my back with his belt and muffling my mock protests with his mouth. Then he yanked up his shirt, hooked my calves over his shoulders, and took me with ruthless intensity.
I screamed myself hoarse. Then begged for more.
I saw another glimpse of the man beneath the one who waits for me, who asks permission with every move. I saw him lose his ironclad control. Watched his mind fracture with need.
And God help me, I loved that I could do that to him.
“Are you snoring on me again?” I mumble into the pillow.
He makes a rough, sleepy sound that vibrates against my shoulder. “I don’t snore.”
“You did this half-growl, half-dying-engine thing all night. You’re doing it again.”
His lips move against my skin. “That wasn’t snoring. That was me trying to survive after all your... enthusiasm.”
I elbow him lightly in the ribs. “Excuse you. You ravished me.”
“You were a menace too,” he rasps, voice thick with sleep and something darker. “You clamped so hard around my cock, I thought I’d suffocate.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Jordan. You’re so… so bad.”
“And you,” he chuckles, sliding his hand up to cup my breast, “are sore.”
He says the word like it’s his favorite flavor, brushing his thumb lazily over my nipple. It tightens instantly, and my breath catches. My thighs clench together on instinct, trying to soothe the low, needy ache that’s been humming since I opened my eyes.
“Jordan,” I murmur.
“Yeah, baby?” he asks, all innocence—already rolling his hips just enough that the thick length of him nudges against me.
“I thought you said you’d let me sleep.”
“I changed my mind.” He nuzzles behind my ear. “You make very compelling arguments in the daylight.”
I laugh weakly. “I can barely move my legs, caveman.”
He goes still at that, hand slipping back down to my stomach, flat and protective. “Too much? Are you hurting?”
God. The way he switches from filthy to careful in a heartbeat. That might undo me more than anything he actually does to my body.
“No,” I say honestly, turning in his arms so I can see him. His hair’s a mess, flopping into his eyes. His jaw’s rough with stubble. He looks devastatingly gorgeous and completely undone. “Well—yes. A little. But it feels good, too.”
Relief flashes in his eyes before that sinful smile curves his mouth. “Minx.”
He kisses me—slow, deep, unhurried. Morning breath and all—I don’t care. His hand cups my hip, pulling me halfway on top of him.
I start to move, grinding against him slowly, helplessly, heat flooding back into my limbs.
He groans, low and rough. “That right there? That’s how you end up not walking straight. And your dad already wants me dead. Let’s not give him evidence.”
I bury my face in his chest. “My dad doesn’t know about us. I’ve been very, very discreet, Mr. Farrington.”
“And yet you’re still writhing against me.” He topples me, then rolls over me, pinning me with a wicked grin as he tickles my sides until I’m gasping. “I suggest you don’t go home with a waddle that says,I’ve just been fucked by Daddy’s boss.”
“Jordan!” I squeal, smacking his shoulder, my face burning.
“Good morning, my love.” He kisses my temple. “Let’s get us fed.”
