We both chuckle, because we both know he doesn’t need any help getting laid.
“So… I have somewhere to be.” I stand up and grab my jacket, making it obvious that I’m going to leave.
“Awww, look at you. Next thing you’ll tell me you have a boyfriend,” he mocks.
I eye him with warning, stepping around the desk. “Don’t hold your breath, buddy.” Patting him on the back, I usher him out of the chair and toward the door.
“Fine, go have fun with your secret side piece. I’ll find out eventually,” Jackson calls over his shoulder as he walks away.
As soon as the elevator doors close behind me, my mind goes directly to my secret side piece. By the time I reach the parking lot, my whole body is buzzing with anticipation. I should probably look deeper into the fact I get this overwhelming excitement every time I meet up with Jordan, but I refuse to go down that road. I don’t wanna risk fucking this up. I know a good thing when I see it, and I especially know a good thing when I fuck it.
My mind hasn’t changed in regards to a relationship. I don’t have the time or the emotional capacity for anything more than the kind of arrangement I currently share with Jordan. That said, I can't help but feel addicted to him. Not only with his body and the sounds he makes when he comes, but also how incredible he is at his job. I find myself craving his touch. I don't know how much time I've lost at work sitting around daydreaming about him. Perhaps if I thought for one second that I was in a place in my life to prioritize Jordan the way he deserves, I would be on my knees begging him to give us a shot. Thankfully, though, Jordan seems dead set on not settling down with anybody. I doubt he would even entertain the idea of a relationship—begging or not. Which means that we have stumbled upon the holy grail of situationships.
As I drive to Jordan’s place, I can’t stop thinking about how easy it is between us, and how we all but fell into this routine. I can honestly say that besides being the perfect employee who brings me coffee in the morning exactly the way I like it, he became my friend. We talk about everything during lunch breaks when he feeds me his crazy delicious leftovers. Of course, he has to be great at cooking too. His mom owns a restaurant in LA and he learned from her. Next time when I’m there, I’ll have to visit the place and pay my respects to the chef.
Jordan and I talked a lot about our families, and when he found out my dad is a scientist, he looked up his articles online and asked more about his research. We got to know each other, and so far I like every new thing I find out about him. He’s genuine and bold, caring and devoted, but at the same time, he’s a free spirit.
I arrive at Jordan’s house and I can’t get out of the car fast enough. I know what’s waiting for me on the other side of the door. I can already imagine how he’ll taste and how he’ll moan when I’m deep inside him. I knock on the door and wait impatiently for him to open. I bet he’s delaying it on purpose: he wants me to be feral from need and want. I hear the lock turn, and when the door opens, it’s not Jordan I see, but empty space where he should be standing.
“Where are you, Lashes?” I step inside and look deeper into the house.
“I’m right here, Dimples,” he whispers in my ear, wrapping his arms around my chest and pressing his crotch against my ass.
“Why were you hiding behind the door? You shy all of a sudden or something?” I reach for his hand and pull to bring him in front of me. He’s naked except for… “Oh, fuck… you know what that jock does to my self-control.”
“That is the exact reason why I put it on,” he murmurs, between licking and sucking on my neck. A loud groan leaves him when I squeeze his ass and roam my fingers into his crease.
I’m about to direct us into the dining room and bend him over the table to eat him for dinner, but a loud cry from outside jerks us apart.
“What the fuck?” Jordan runs over to the window. “Oh, my god.”
“What is it?” I hurry to stand beside him. It’s dark out. The rain is coming down heavily now. Jordan’s apartment window looks down over the alley at the side of the building. The only light source is coming from the apartments below. I see three guys—most likely drunk, based on their slurring and laughing—pushing around a young man. He looks about sixteen and terrified. His clothes are soaked and filthy and his voice is shaking as he calls for help. My whole body tenses. “Put your clothes on, Jordan. Stay here and call the cops. I’ll be right back.” Turning without waiting for his response, I take off out of the apartment and run down the four flights of stairs to get to the back alley.
Slamming open the metal door, I rush out into the rain. “HEY, ASSHOLES! Why don't you try picking on somebody your own size?” I yell, purely to get their attention focused on me. The cliched line works a treat on their alcohol-soaked brains.
“Get the fuck outta here, old man. This is family business,” the middle goon yells, before gulping down the last of his cheap beer. He throws the empty to the side, presumably trying to be intimidating, but it's more nauseating than anything else. My eyebrow raises at the family business comment.
“Family, huh? Beating up a kid in an alleyway with your buddies is pretty fucked up family business to me. Now, the cops are on the way, so why don’t you let the kid go, and you lot can sober up in the drunk tank?”
I ball my hands into fists at my sides as one of his buddies pushes the kid back to the wet ground when he tries to run for it.
“Are you deaf as well as stupid? He said let the kid go. Touch him again and you’ll be eating lead, motherfucker.” The click of a gun has me stepping to the left so Jordan can come up and stand beside me. His enthusiastic threat, as movie-worthy as it was, seems to have worked. Jackass One, Two and Three are backing away and pushing each other to run in the other direction.
My gaze drops to the kid cowering in the corner, but before I can make a move toward him, Jordan has already put the safety on his gun and rushed over to kneel at his side, oblivious to the wet, filthy alley floor. His favorite Lulu Lemon yoga pants are likely ruined—not that he has even noticed. Gone is the fashion conscious, always-pristine Mr Bell, and in his place is this sopping wet guy on his knees in a dirty alleyway to help a kid he doesn’t even know. I can’t take my eyes off him as he coaches the kid to his feet and walks him toward the apartment exit door.
I’ve just seen a whole other side to Jordan Bell. It feels like a piece of my heart that I didn’t know was missing has suddenly clicked into place.
Fuck. This can’t be good.
CHAPTER 10
Jordan
I’m shaking with adrenaline as I push open my apartment door. My arm is still securely wrapped around the wet and injured teenager. With his hood still pulled up over his head, partially covering his face, I haven’t gotten a good look at the poor kid. I just keep picturing him cowering there in the corner of that filthy alleyway. Three full grown men, if you can even call them that, crowding him, taunting him, fucking beating him.
Rage I never knew I was capable of still courses through my body. I want to go back out there and find those bastards and give them another piece of my mind. A shudder runs through the teen in my arms, reminding me that I have more important things to do right now. Like getting this kid out of these wet clothes and into a hot shower before he catches a cold.
“Can you tell me your name? Is there somebody I can call for you? Maybe your parents?” Eric’s careful, tentative tone makes me pause. Looking at him now, gone is the confident shark of a lawyer. Gone is his usual scowl, replaced by a soft, encouraging smile that I don’t even recognise.
