Morning, bud. Jordan and I are leaving Switzerland soon. See you at five.
Cole won’t seemy text for hours, but I didn’t want to forget once we’re rushing out the door.
I’ve been awake for a while. Long enough that the room’s gone from dark to gray to morning. I’ve spent most of that time staring at Jordan, lost in thought, somewhere between relief, fear, and acceptance.
She stirs beside me, pulling the sheet up higher beneath her chin.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
I’ve been trying not to wake her. Trying not to touch her.
But I’m hard as hell, and the longer I lie here looking at her, the closer I’m getting to failing at both.
Last night was…
Christ.Last night was incredible. Completely unexpected, which somehow made it even better.
She told me she loved me. That she’s always loved me. That she’s tired of running.
But she also said she was scared. And those words sit in my mind like poison. One wrong move, one negative headline, one moment of doubt, and Jordan could run.
I don’t know if things will be different this time, but I want them to be. I want to believe we’re not the same two people we were back then. That we’ve been through enough to finally know what’s worth staying for when things get hard.
I guess I’ve always known she loves me. And I hope to God she knows I love her back.
I’ve never loved anyone the way I love Jordan.
Not even close.
I’d jump in front of a train, take a bullet—every cliché thing a hero says he’d do. I’d do all of it without thinking.
And if this is all I ever get? Moments, days, weeks… maybe a few years before she slips through my fingers again?
Then that’s my story.
Because I already know I’ll only ever love one woman.
And it’s Jordan Demetriou.
She grips the sheet tight in her hand and rolls to her other side, taking the sheet over me with her.
I chuckle to myself. She’s always been a blanket hog. She’s a wild sleeper, messy and chaotic, like a toddler.
Yeah, I’m done waiting for her to wake up. Plus, I want my sheet back.
I scoot in close behind her, sneaking my hand underneath the sheet and around her waist, pulling her close to me.
My fingers drift across her stomach while I press long, soft kisses along her back, neck, and shoulders.
She hums. “I could get used to this,” she says, voice groggy with sleep. She angles her head so I have access to her neck and jaw. “This is way better than an alarm.”
She finally opens her eyes, squinting from the one stream of light slicing through the curtains.
“How’d you sleep?” she asks.
“Good.” I keep kissing her, turned on and hard as hell. “I wanna fuck,” I murmur. I don’t bother pretending otherwise. Not with her.
She laughs softly, pressing her ass against me. “Just no mouth kissing. I need to brush my teeth.”
