Page 33 of One More Night
“I’m not sure what you have planned,” I say as he navigates the debris from the trees above, “but I’d kind of hoped to finish what we started in the kitchen. I’m not much of a fisherman.”
He chuckles, shaking his head as he lets go of my hand to pull the painted door open. “Get inside.”
This must be where he kills me. No wonder Chase told me to stay away. Stupid girl, Corinne.
“Okay?” I step on to the timber flooring, the surface decidedly cooler in here than outdoors. “Now what?”
I turn to ask if I should perhaps be dressed for this, when he cuts me short with an arm around my waist. I’m hauled against his hard front, his other hand splayed possessively across my mound as he forces my ass into his erection.
How the hell is he still so ready?
“I want to live out a little fantasy with you,” he whispers in my ear, lips skimming the shell. “You game?”
“You’re asking a lot of me today.”
“I’m about to ask more.” His fingers gather the fabric of my skirt until his heated touch meets my slick pussy.
Apparently I’m equally as ready to go, still.
“Your dress was powder blue,” he utters, lips brushing my neck as he pushes two fingers inside. “Short little skirt on it, and tiny little straps that showed all this gorgeous skin.” His teeth skate across my shoulder, leaving me with a little nip before he spins me around in his arms. “Your hair was straighter then.”
An obsession with the flat iron.Didn’t every young girl go through that stage? “You remember a lot.”
“I’ve replayed it often.”
“But?” I run my palms across his chest, delighting in the heat beneath my touch.
“But that’s where it always ended. That was all I ever got.” His lips capture mine, the kiss reverent as he takes his time before adding, “Before I added more myself, that is.”
Something about this seemingly guarded man telling me his deepest, darkest fantasy—one that involves me—is insanely hot. A thrill tickles low in my belly as his eyes glaze over, lost to the memory, made up or otherwise.
“I sat on your parents back lawn in those god awful plastic chairs, always a few feet from where you were.”
I never noticed.
“Watched as you took care of everyone at the party, made sure they all had drinks and food at the ready.”
I chuckle, my fingertips dancing across his strong shoulders. “I merely did as I was asked.”
“You could have said no,” he points out. “But you naturally care for others.”
“I did,” I correct. “I used to care far too much.”
Fixed that. Right about the time I told Aden he could take a hike.
Judging by the way Jordan studies me, he seems to sense I hide something more, something important. Yet he doesn’t press the issue. “You were gorgeous that afternoon. You still are. But the way the sunshine played up the highlights in your hair and warmed your skin—you glowed like an angel.”
“Terribly cliché, Jordan,” I tease with a tap of my finger to his lips.
He captures the digit and sucks it into his mouth.
If I had panties on they’d be soaked thanks to that heated stare of his.
“I planned it all out; what I’d do.” He walks forward, forcing me back until I hit the wall of the shed. “I’d butter you up with idle conversation, find out what made you tick, where your passions lay. And then”—he grins—“I’d use those things against you so that you’d feel comfortable enough not to question my invitation to somewhere more ‘quiet.’”
I lace my hands behind his neck, tipping my head with a smile. “Think I’m that gullible, do you?”
“Not at all.” His eyes narrow. “I know I’m that good, though.”