“We’re having dinner with my family. We bumped into each other. No one saw us come in together. We made two different reservations.”
“I guess you’re right; but I still feel uncomfortable.”
“We’re just having dinner. Okay?”
“Okay,” I agree. His hands slides away from my leg.
It’s difficult for me to enjoy dinner when the sensation of his fingers is imprinted onto my skin; just like our night. Like his kisses. Like his words.
Niall insisted on dropping me home. Steven left the restaurant before us, and I didn’t even realise. It was only when we stood up to leave and Niall helped me into my jacket that I saw his table was empty, the plates and glasses already cleared away. I was so busy trying to keep Niall and his seductive moves at a distance – not to mention my raging hormones – that I didn’t even realise he and his fiancée had left. Luckily, he didn’t try to come over. Niall being here must have intimidated him.
I get out of the car as Niall tells his daughter that he’s going to walk me to my front door, to make sure I have no problem getting in. We walk slowly towards my building. The pizza place is still open, and all the waiters are inside, clearing away. I approach the door, my keys jangling from my fingers – I slide the key into the lock and the door swings open. I step through it, before turning to face him. He stays standing outside.
“Thank you for tonight.”
“Thank you for the company. And the help.”
“You were the one who helped me.”
He shakes his head. “My daughter doesn’t like spending time alone with me, and you being there made the whole evening much more pleasant.”
“In that case, I’m happy I could help.”
His face breaks into that broad, dangerous smile.
“It’s almost midnight.”
“What?”
“We still have a few minutes until our truce is over.”
He steps towards me, placing one foot through the doorway. His hand slides to the back of my neck. I press myself against him, my hands tracing the curves of his chest. He bends down towards my mouth and I part my lips and close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft mouth moving against mine; his tongue slips inside, calling me. He’s panting, his breathing heavy, heat radiating from his body. I let myself go, giving in to the sensation of someone who’s dying to kiss you. Someone who shows you how much he wants you in every way possible.
I lift my hands to his hair, rising onto my tiptoes; his arms tighten around me. I can feel the growing erection, contained by his jeans.
“Jordan,” he whispers into my mouth.
“This is crazy,” I tell him.
“We still have two minutes,” he says, hungrily.
“Then stop talking.”
He smiles against my mouth before kissing me again. I let Niall Kerry tell me, in his own way, that he’ll never let some damn contract keep him away from me. And I’m stupid enough to let myself fall for it.
Niall
Igo downstairs to make some sandwiches for me and Skylar. I’m helping her redecorate her room; she told me she didn’t need my help, but I ignored her, just like she tends to do with me. So that’s how I found myself awake and ready at seven o’clock this morning, old newspapers and paintbrushes in hand, wearing a pair of old overalls and standing outside her bedroom door. She told me to fuck off – she thought it was too early to start painting, but I told her there were pancakes downstairs. That managed to convince her to get out of bed without throwing any more insults my way.
My mother has gone out with Rian, my dad is outside in the fields, and Tyler doesn’t finish work until tonight: so it’s just the two of us. And, I have to say, it’s going pretty well so far. I’m still not used to her, just as she’s not used to me, but we’re slowly learning to put up with each other, to work out the best way to be around one another.
I pull some leftover chicken out of the fridge that Mum made yesterday. I grab salad, garlic mayonnaise (which I’ve now realised Skylar adores) and some tomatoes. I cut everything up, putting it into a bowl, add the chicken, and dollop a generous helping of mayonnaise onto the whole thing. I mix it together, then use it to fill two slices of bread each. I grab a plate, some napkins, a beer for me, and a Coke for Skylar, and I call up the stairs. I don’t think it’s the best idea to sit and eat surrounded by paint fumes.
Skylar appears in the kitchen and sits herself down on one of the stools at the island. I put everything on the counter and join her.
“It’s starting to look good, up there, isn’t it?” I ask, talking about her bedroom.
“It sucks a little less.”
