“I’m busy, yeah. Like, all the time.” He nudges his elbow against mine. “You know this, though. You remember.”
“I do. Yes, I get it,” I say, my voice cool, my thoughts haywire. Crap, I don’t really get it, no matter how much I want to. Brutal truth time: I want to be with a man who’s able to give all of himself to me, no matter what. Not like I want to be attached at the hip and he has no outside interests or whatever—I want us to share in everything we do, and right now, with the way Jordan’s life is going, I’m not sure if he can be that man. No matter how badly I want him to be.
Only an hour ago at the restaurant I was telling myself this could totally work, and now I’m thinking it’s near impossible.
Why is the truth so hard to face?
“Hey.” He touches me, his fingers slipping beneath my chin to tilt my face up so our gazes connect. “I can practically see the cogs turning in your brain.”
My smile is sad, I can feel it. “Reality sucks.”
He understands what I’m really saying, and I appreciate that about him. Reality does suck. We’re having a great time tonight. Being together feels familiar, yet different. Fresh and new, with that comforting, hey we’ve done this before, vibe too.
But tomorrow I’ll go back to work and so will he. He’s so busy who knows when I’ll see him again.
For all I know, this might be my one last chance.
“Fuck reality,” he murmurs as he lowers his head until we’re so close, I can feel his breath waft across my cheek. “Don’t worry about all the bullshit, Mandy.”
“But I can’t help—”
He cuts my words off with a kiss.
My stomach drops, tumbling over itself at that first touch of his mouth on mine. Again, it’s familiar yet new. Thrilling. Exciting. He’s kissing me. Jordan Tuttle is kissing me.
His lips are soft. Not hungry, not demanding. More like a test, a question.
Are we really doing this?
Are you going to let me keep kissing you?
Do you want this?
Do you want me?
Yes.
Yes, yes, yes.
Our mouths meet again and again. Sweet, chaste kisses that make my entire body grow warm. He slips his arms around my waist and pulls me in closer, his lips parting mine, his tongue darting. Retreating. A tease.
A promise.
Feeling bold, I slip my tongue inside his mouth, circling it around his. He growls low in his throat, his arms tightening around my waist, the fabric of my dress lifting the slightest bit, reminding me that yep, I’m still naked beneath the thin fabric.
It feels so good just kissing him. Imagine what might happen once he puts those skilled hands on my bare skin?
We kiss and kiss, our tongues tangling, our hands wandering, until he finally breaks away first, his mouth on my neck, licking and nibbling. I keep my eyes closed, my hands coming up to wrap around his neck, my fingers sliding into his thick, soft hair. He pushes aside my denim jacket so it falls off my shoulder, his mouth on my collarbone, his hands sliding up, causing the dress fabric to draw up even more.
“Are you trying to expose me?” I ask breathlessly, a shiver moving through me when the cool breeze hits.
“Maybe,” he murmurs against my throat, one hand dropping to flirt with the hem of my dress. His fingers brush against my thigh and I whimper.
Is it bad that I want to yell at him to just go ahead and do me? That sounds stupid, even in my thoughts, but it’s so true. I want Jordan naked. I want to touch him, kiss him, feel him slip deep inside me. I want it all.
“We’re not going to do—this outside, are we?” I open my eyes and glance around, noting the outdoor table and chairs. The chairs look comfortable, but not for both of us. And there are no lounge chairs, which is a bummer because one of those would’ve worked just fine…
“Absolutely fucking not.” He pulls away from me, grabs my hand, and we walk back into the house, both of us practically running down the stairs, our matching harsh breaths echoing. He stops at the doorway that leads into what looks like an office, pressing me against the wall, his hands cupping my cheeks just before he steals another kiss.
Oh, and it’s a good one. Lots of tongue, his hands cradling my face, his thumbs skimming my skin, making me feel…cherished.
Loved.
Ugh, I shouldn’t even think of that word when it comes to me and Jordan. That’s the past. I need to focus on the here and now.
I tilt my head back and he takes the kiss deeper. His hands fall to my hips and then he’s grabbing hold of me, his hands slipping low to cup my bare ass, and the moment he touches me there, a jolt of electricity pulses through my body, making me shudder.
“Fuck,” he groans against my lips, his hands pulling me into position so my legs are wrapped around his waist, my feet digging into his rock-hard backside. I’m snug against his front, bare and rubbing the seam of his jeans. I can feel him. He’s hard beneath the denim and I press closer, a whimper escaping me at the delicious friction.
I could probably come like this. It’s been a while since I’ve had sex. It’s been even longer since I’ve had really good sex.
And it’s been over six years since I’ve had the best sex of my life.
Ridiculous, right? That the best sex ever was with Jordan. But I think it’s because we were so much in love, sex-obsessed teenagers driven by our hormones. We learned together. We experimented. We were comfortable with each other, but not in a boring way. More in the ooh, let’s try that way.
Those times were some of the best I ever had. The memories have faded, but being with him like this, my body reacts instinctively, knowing exactly what to do and how to move in order to arouse him.
Muscle memory is an interesting thing.
Jordan pins me to the wall with his hips, his erection pressing against me, his hands gripping my bare butt. His mouth is on mine, his breath hot, his teeth tugging on my lower lip, his big body caging me in. “You’re trying to get off, aren’t you?” he asks in that growly, sexy voice of his after he ends our kiss.
“What do you mean?” I play stupid on purpose. I want to hear what he has to say. Right before I broke up with him, he started to get into dirty talk. Not too raunchy, but just raunchy enough to get my blood pumping.
“You keep rubbing against my dick.” Oh God, his voice is so rough. I lift my hips and grind on him a little as an example, and he groans. “Yeah, just like that.”
“You feel good,” I admit as I rock against him, sinking my teeth into my lower lip to keep from moaning too loud.
“So do you,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping lower, so tantalizingly close to where I want him the most. “You’re getting my jeans wet.”
Okay, that was the hottest thing ever. Clearly I have no shame, because I grind against him again, harder this time, and I can feel my orgasm hovering close. He knows it too. Probably can tell by the way I went still for that millisecond moment, can hear it in the way I sucked in a harsh breath and held it. This man knows my tells like no other.
I both want to prolong this moment and get it over with right away, because my body is tightly strung, my blood running hot, my skin buzzing. It’s urgent, my need to find release because holy crap, I must have it.
Now.
He kisses me again, his soft, hot lips melting into mine, our tongues dancing, his fingers teasing me from behind while I grind on his denim-covered erection, finding my rhythm, the rhythm I know is going to take me straight to O-Town. My brain helps along with matters—reminding me what he looks like naked—to die for—and that gleam he’d get in his eyes just before he went down on me—seductive yet mischievous. Going down on me was something Jordan liked to do often.
Something I’d like him to do ASAP, if you get what I mean.
He slips his finger inside me and that’s all it takes. Destination O-Town and it turns me into a gasping, whimpering, shuddery mess as I basically hump Jordan like a greedy, inexperienced teenager experiencing her f
irst orgasm from someone else. My face is pressed against his throat and my fingers are curled tight in the hair at his nape as I cling to him, probably stabbing his butt with my stiletto heels. He holds me tight, one large hand smoothing up and down my back as my shivers slowly subside, yet I don’t want to shift away from him. Not yet.
I like how he’s holding me. Soothing me. Oh, and there’s also the fact that I’m a little embarrassed that I just came so hard, so quickly.
“Mandy.” His voice rumbles and I can feel the vibrations. “You all right?”
I nod, but still don’t move.
“I’m going to set you down now, okay?” When I nod again, his arms loosen around me, and I slip my legs from his hips. My feet land on the floor and my knees are still weak so I wobble, but he catches me.
This tiny moment reeks of symbolism. No matter what happens, if we’re together, Jordan is always there to catch me before I fall.
Or maybe I’m just totally reaching.
Amanda is giving me a serious case of blue balls.
I made her come and now she’s freaking out. Once I set her on her unsteady feet, she tugged her skirt down, smoothed a hand over her hair and then mumbled, “I have to use the bathroom.” She dashed into my master bathroom and has secluded herself in there for the last five minutes.
I’m sitting on the foot of my bed, running my hands continuously through my hair, tugging on it extra tight until it hurts. Maybe if I focus on the pain, my insistent dick will settle down.
Yeah. Not happening.
She’s the sexiest thing alive. Seriously, no woman has ever done it for me like Amanda. Having her in my arms only a few minutes ago, our mouths fused as she rubbed her wet pussy all over the front of my jeans, Jesus.
Need to stop thinking like that. Remembering the moment is doing me no favors. As in, my dick is still hard.
The bathroom door slowly swings open and she walks out, looking uneasy. The shoes are off. They’re dangling from her fingers and she drops them on the floor with a plop, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she contemplates me.
I say nothing. Just lean back with my hands braced on the mattress behind me, kicking my legs out. She’s still studying me, her gaze doing a leisurely stroll from my head to my feet until she finally says,
“I think maybe we’re—moving too fast.”
Well, shit. So that’s what it takes to deflate my dick.
“Man—” I start to say, but she cuts me off.
“No, let me finish.” She takes a deep breath and exhales loudly, waving her hands in front of her face like she’s trying to cool down. Or stop the tears from coming, I’m not quite sure. “Being with you tonight has been amazing, but I’m scared.”
She’s quiet for a moment, so I go ahead and ask the question. “Scared of what?”
“Of you. Of this not working,” she admits quietly. She takes a step forward, the scent of her perfume wafting toward me, and all I can think is so close.
I was so damn close to having her naked and my cock buried deep inside her. Yet somehow, I messed it all up.
“Do you want this to work?” I ask. My chest goes tight. This is one of those hard truth moments, and I’m worried she’ll say something I don’t want to hear.
Amanda ducks her head, her long dark hair spilling over her shoulder, and gives a little shrug. “Do you?”
“I asked you first.”
She bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “We sound like little kids.”
“Right now, we’re acting like little kids.” I stand and go to her, close enough to touch her, but I don’t. Not yet. “What do you want, Mandy?”
“I don’t know.” She keeps her head bent and I give in, slipping my fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face up so her gaze meets mine. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears and seeing them cracks my steel-plated heart. Damn, this girl wrecks me. She always has. “I want to, but…”
“But what.” I touch her cheek. Trace her jaw. Her skin is still flushed from her orgasm and she’s so warm. So beautiful.
“I don’t want to get hurt,” she whispers, closing her eyes and leaning into my palm. “And if we do this, I’m afraid you’ll hurt me again, Jordan. I can’t help it.”
It’s my turn to take a deep breath. I’m stalling, trying to figure out exactly what I want to say. How much I want to reassure her that if she just gave us a chance, we’d probably work. I’m not over her. Clearly, she’s not over me. So why not give it another try?
“I can guarantee you’ll hurt me again too,” I admit. “If you put a stop to this right now, you’ll hurt me. But if you don’t take a chance, then you’ll never know.”
Her eyes pop open and she’s frowning at me. “Never know what?”
“Just how great we could be.” I skim my thumb across her lush mouth, tempted to kiss her again. “Once upon a time, we were pretty damn great, you know.”
Until she dumped my ass with no real explanation. Didn’t offer me a chance to correct my wrongs or whatever. It was just a simple it’s over. And I wasn’t allowed to try and change her mind.
So why am I willing to put my heart on the line once again? She’ll destroy it. She’s good at that—she has lots of experience.
Yet seeing her like this, touches something deep within me. Her expression is…raw. Vulnerable. Her lips tremble and the tears start to spill, one sliding down her cheek. Then another.
“We totally were,” she says, her voice faint.
I say nothing. It’s so much easier to clamp up. Shut down. I lean in and kiss her gently, communicating with my lips what I can’t say with words.
Take a chance on me.
Take a chance on us.
Hopefully she’ll listen to what I’m trying to say.
Come to the game with me this weekend.
The text from Jordan is a simple request, but the deeper message behind his words is one that scatters my thoughts into immediate chaos.
He wants me to go to Tampa Bay this weekend. To watch him while he plays. To possibly sleep with him in his hotel room at night, but let’s be real—sleep is code for having sex. Which in turn, means we’re going to actually have sex.
We’ve done it before. It should be no big deal. But he’s gone on to have sex with supermodels and I’ve gone on to have sex with…regular guys. Not even enough to count on one hand. Will I measure up?
Does he think we’re moving too fast? Do I seem too easy? I did, after all, grind on his dick until I came on his jeans. Talk about immature.
My cheeks are hot just thinking about last night. Worse, I never, uh, serviced him in return. I’m the most selfish, orgasm-seeking monster on this planet.
“What are you reading that’s got you looking like that?”
The familiar voice startles me and I drop my phone onto the table with a clatter, glancing up to find Cade watching me with an amused look on his face.
He is the last person I want to see right now. Lena already gave me a lecture this morning about how I need to let Cade know that I’m not interested in him beyond being his friend, and I know she’s right, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings.
I also know I can’t string him along. That’s not right. Not at all.
“Nothing really,” I say, keeping my voice purposely casual. I turn my phone over so neither of us can see if Jordan texts me again. I took a late lunch since it’s been so busy today, and I’m in the lunchroom eating a sandwich I packed that isn’t very good. It sits forgotten on the table beside my phone, and I grab it, rewrapping the sandwich in aluminum foil and then balling it up. I’ll toss it in the trash when I leave the breakroom.
“How’ve you been?” Cade doesn’t bother asking if he can sit with me. Instead he pulls a chair out and plops his butt in it, smiling at me. “Crazy morning, huh?”
“Very,” I agree, flinching when my phone buzzes again. My fingers crawl toward the phone like I have no control of them, but I don’t pick it up.
I refuse to look at it in
Cade’s presence.
“Can’t believe it’s already Thursday,” he says.
“Same,” I say weakly. More like it’s only Thursday and my life has completely and totally changed in a matter of a few days.
“So.” His hesitation is like a warning, and I know without a doubt he’s going to ask me out. “What are you up to this weekend?”
What is up with the men in my life trying to be a part of my weekend plans? What’s even crazier is that I go from having zero attention from any guy to two of them trying to get all up in my business in a matter of minutes.
“I’m not sure yet,” I say haltingly, which is the absolute truth.
“Want to get together? Check out a movie, maybe?” He’s smiling. His eyes are sparkling. Cade is a very attractive man.
But after everything that’s happened with Jordan, and realizing my feelings for him never really died, I know Cade is not the man for me.
“Cade…” My voice drifts and I sit up straighter. His smile fades, and I know he knows I’m about to turn him down. “I’d like to go to the movies with you, but I’m actually—seeing someone else.”
Making that declaration causes my heart to start racing. The words are out there. I’ve just turned Cade down because I am involved with Jordan. Again. I’m trying my best to fight against it, yet the doubt is there. Taking residence in my brain.
You’ve gone down this road before and failed—sure you want to do it again?
I ignore the negative voice inside my head and focus on Cade. His eyebrows are so far up they’re practically in his hairline. “Well. You definitely move fast.”
I’m slightly offended by his comment—and the tone of his voice. “It happened fast,” I snap defensively.
“Let me guess.” He rises to his feet and snaps his fingers like he just had a revelation. “You’re getting back together with your ex. Tuttle.”
My mouth drops open but then I clamp it shut. Guess he’s more perceptive than I realized. “We’re, um, kind of seeing each other again. Yeah.”