by Juniper Hart
What suspicion? There’s nothing going on between you. You have every right to say hello to your friend, don’t you? But his legs didn’t move.
Jordan stood paralyzed, unsure of what to do. To ease his discomfort, he took another swig of his drink, finishing it in a single gulp. The burn of the liquid seized his gut, and he gnawed on his lower lip, his eyes fixed intently on Samantha as he willed her to look at him.
I need to get out of here, he told himself, a semblance of sanity overcoming him. He quickly placed the empty glass on the bar and ducked his head down, hoping to avoid being seen by Samantha.
“Hey! Where you going, slugger?” Thom yelled after him as he tried to covertly run out the back exit. “The party’s just getting started!”
Samantha’s head whipped around at the loud question, and Jordan found himself awkwardly staring into her eyes. Neither moved for a few seconds until suddenly, Samantha’s lips, painted a dark apple red, curved into her trademark smile. Jordan had the same sense he had prior to gearing up for a fight, a deep anticipation swimming through him to combine fear and excitement together. But this was different, somehow. Scarier. He was reverted to his childhood with Derrek Jameson, and with some shock, he realized he was suffering from a panic attack.
Get it together! he screamed at himself. She’s just a beautiful woman. She is no reason to act like this.
Samantha Jagger, however, was more than just some random woman. She was intelligent, witty, and a fighting fan. She was gorgeous, successful, and stable. She was everything that he desired in a woman, everything he deserved after all he’d overcome. She was perfect for him.
She’s engaged! he remembered. The cry seemed less intense than the first as Samantha strolled across the room, her even steps accentuating every curve of her body. Jordan was vaguely aware that his mouth was slightly agape, waiting for her to approach, but he did nothing to right his lips.
“Hi,” she said, gently curling a loose red curl around her finger. The rest of her locks were pinned up in an elegant French twist at the base of her neck, leaving the contours of her flawless shoulders exposed. He didn’t know where to rest his eyes. There was just too much sensuality in one place. Jordan was entranced by her.
“Hi,” he answered. His voice seemed to be a croak. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “How are you?” he continued in his normal, deep, sonorous tone. She shrugged her shoulders, and while she kept the smile firmly on her rosebud lips, it did not quite meet her eyes.
“I’m good, Jordan. I’m glad you’re here,” she told him, and even though she couldn’t meet his stare, he heard the sincerity in her tone.
The attraction is mutual. I know it is.
“I’m glad you’re here, too,” he immediately replied. He wasn’t ashamed of the confession. He had no doubt that she was aware of his feelings toward her, and while he knew they were wrong given the circumstances, he didn’t regret them.
He had always scoffed at people who had allowed themselves to get involved with married men or women. He had always attributed those relationships to sheer weakness, people unable to control their own selfish desires. Jordan had done many things wrong in his life, but this was not a road he’d ever wanted to cross, not when there were so many fish in the sea.
All of a sudden, Jordan knew none of that was true.
Sometimes you don’t meet your soulmate until it’s too late for both of you, he thought with a deep, sickening sadness. Samantha isn’t married. Not yet. Marco doesn’t deserve her, anyway. He can’t feel about her the way I do. He was making excuses for his desire, and it only made him feel worse. I’m not this guy, and I won’t become him, he thought, but there was no conviction.
“Where is Marco?” Jordan asked, choking on the man’s name. The smile slipped off Samantha’s face now, and she shifted her eyes downward, a quick smirk replacing it.
“He didn’t want to come,” she answered truthfully. “Actually, Marco said, and I quote, ‘There is no way in hell I am going to another one of those boring ass functions, Sammy. I’ll be at the strip joint for a boy’s night tonight if you need me.’ End quote.”
Jordan’s eyes widened in disgusted disbelief.
“Really?” he growled. “What a prince.” To his surprise, Samantha only laughed and shook her head.
“Typical Marco,” she said with a nonchalance that almost troubled him.
Doesn’t she care that the man she’s going to marry is gawking at strippers right now? Has she been treated so badly by men that this is acceptable? He choked back his questions and forced himself to smile at her, knowing that trash talking Marco wasn’t going to win him any points with Samantha.
“Bad for him, good for me,” Jordan said lightly. “Buy you a drink?”
Samantha’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t it an open bar?”
“Oh, it is,” he told her. She laughed and playfully whacked his arm. She stepped back to look at him, taking in his pristine black suit.
“You look very handsome, Southy.” Jordan felt a sexual thrill run through him as she used his fighting nickname. He looked at her intensely.
“I have never seen a more beautiful sight in my whole life than you walking through that door tonight,” he said. Samantha’s face went through a variety of changes, eventually settling on awe, heat coloring her complexion.
“Thank you,” she murmured, looking downward and shifting her feet.
Suddenly overcome by an urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her, Jordan stepped backward and forced a jovial grin he did not feel. I’m not going to be able to contain myself around her. The attraction is just too strong. What is she doing to me?
Samantha cocked her head to the side and peered at him speculatively.
“What?” she asked in a sultry tone.
You know exactly what, he thought, grinding his teeth, but he didn’t challenge her.
“How about that drink?” he replied, extending his arm for her to take it. She giggled and accepted.
“Sounds perfect,” she breathed.
The night, which had begun at a painfully slow pace, seemed to fly now with Samantha’s arrival.
She led Jordan to a table filled with IT consultants, and despite his resolve to hate them, Jordan found himself intrigued by the group. They lacked the pretentious air which the other employees seemed to have, and as the evening progressed, he felt an affinity with them. He idly wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he had been perceived as such a geek in his childhood. Truthfully, though, he didn’t care about anyone other than Samantha, his attention mostly fixed on her, like it always seemed to be those days.
The drinks continued, and the conversation flowed. Samantha remained at his side, seemingly proud to be on his arm, even in pretense. When the music started, she imploringly looked at him with huge eyes.
“This is my jam!” she proclaimed as an old-school R&B song filtered through the speakers. Jordan, who strictly reserved his fancy footwork for fighting, found himself following Samantha onto the dance floor.
He was vaguely aware that he looked like a fool, but he was so enthralled with her swaying hips that any outsider opinion was the last thought on his mind. The combination of alcohol and infatuation had put him in a dangerous place, and when the festivities began winding down, Samantha pressed herself tightly against his muscular frame, involved in a rhythmic dance which had nothing to do with the music softly piping into their ears.
I have to stop this. We can’t do this in front of everyone. It’s not right!
“Samantha, I—”
“Shh! Don’t speak. Don’t ruin it,” she whispered back, her face buried in his shoulder. “We might only have tonight.”
“No, I need to say this—”
“Please, Jordan, don’t say anything. I know what you want to say, and it won’t really make a difference. Things aren’t what they seem.”
The last sentence caused him to raise his brows, but it didn’t stop him from trying again.
; “Just listen to me!” Jordan pulled her tighter toward him. Samantha stiffened suddenly as reality began to sink in past her content state of intoxication.
“No!” She pushed him back and looked at him, her eyes flashing with a combination of annoyance and anger. “Why did you have to ruin it?”
Without waiting for him to say another word, she hurried out of the banquet hall. Jordan stood in shock for a moment but quickly regained his composure and took off after her. He caught her on the curb, trying to hail a taxi. He grabbed her by the arm and turned her to face him.
“What is going on with you?” he demanded. “You can’t come and go like this!”
“Please, don’t,” she begged, her eyes widening with worry. “I’m getting married in six weeks, no matter what.”
The words burned at him, but Jordan didn’t allow them to stop him. Instead, he leaned forward and softly placed his lips upon hers.
She did not immediately give into his silent plea, so he kissed her again. And again, until she eagerly wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him closer. Jordan was filled with the sense that he had found something long lost to him, something which he never knew he was seeking. A cab pulled up to the curb and honked its horn impatiently. They pulled apart and looked at one another, the unspoken question hanging between them.
“Your place,” she breathed, and he nodded, scrambling into the car at her side, where they resumed their kisses and didn’t pull apart again until they reached Jordan’s apartment.
He smelled clean and sporty, just like he looked. She wondered what that meant for his prowess.
He’s a wolf. I have no doubt he’s everything I think he’ll be. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to be intimate with anyone? Her skin prickled as Jordan pressed himself almost subtly against her back, his breath even on her bare neck.
“Chanel?” he asked lightly, inhaling her scent. Samantha nodded, not trusting her voice, but she arched her back slightly, wanting to feel his hardness against the curve of her buttocks. His lips grazed the flesh where her shoulder met her throat, and she was suddenly awash with dizziness.
Samantha’s arms raised to encircle his neck, pulling his mouth to her. His grip increased against her body, one hand slipping down to pull up her dress before abruptly spinning her around, his hands still on her sensual rear, his mouth inches from hers.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” he rasped. “But I haven’t wanted to touch someone as much as I have you.” The words sent more heat through her body, and she nodded, her eyes locking with his.
She leaned forward to taste his lips. Their mouths crushed together as if for the first time, and Samantha sighed, relishing the heat of him against her. She wanted him on her, exploring every inch of her body. He seemed to sense the urgency in her movements, his strong arms lifting her onto the counter unexpectedly, palms spreading her knees apart.
Cold air shot up her as she fell back, watching him struggle to strip her Vera Wang dress from her body, but it was far too tight. He grunted in frustration and ripped at the material, her breasts spilling out as the fabric tore away. She didn’t care in the least that the expensive garment was cast aside like trash, for her legs were propped over his shoulders, and he dove into her center almost before she understood what was happening.
Samantha groaned, her calves tightening against his ears. Jordan’s tongue swept at her like a velvet scarf, hitting precisely the right spots, and she slowly swung in rhythm to meet his stunningly accurate laps.
“Oh,” she moaned. Her cries caused his hands to tighten against her cheeks, his fingers probing both her holes. His breathing grew ragged, his tongue rougher, and Sam reached out to grab for something, knocking over a lamp on the coffee table, but neither reacted to the sound. Her body bucked up against him, his face fully entangled in her, and she released in a torrent.
Samantha mewled like a kitten, her hands closing into fists, her frame trembling from head to toe. His tongue slowed as she quivered, his head moving upward to meet her face, eyes boring into hers. Jordan pulled her toward him, her calves over his shoulders, where she guided him inside her. Never had she known such a sensation, and for a breathtaking minute, she was sure he was going to split her in half.
“Are you okay?” he mumbled, his eyes glazing with pleasure. Samantha nodded, her breaths escaping in jagged rasps.
“Take me,” she begged him.
It was all he needed to hear, his hips beginning to move, slowly at first, and she begged him to go faster, her pleadings emanating in the manner of trembling jerks. Desperately, Samantha longed to build him to the level he had taken her, but she was almost immobilized by his breadth, as if he was about to open her up from top to bottom in waves.
Sweat poured down her face, her voice catching as his thrusts grew impossibly deep, as if he had become a part of her, and Samantha no longer knew where she ended and he began.
Jordan shuddered, a feral grunt escaping his lips. He fell forward, and there was an almost searing heat as he finished inside her. His mouth landed on hers, and she inhaled him eagerly, not wanting the moment to end. She clung to him with shaking arms, her muscles squeezing his shaft to drain him, her ankles locked around his head.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked when he pulled away, and Samantha groaned in disappointment. She had not wanted him outside of her already.
“Holy shit,” she agreed, her voice wavering still. She let out a short laugh. “That was amazing.”
Jordan braced himself against the counter, lowering her legs from his shoulders. Samantha felt like her entire body had turned into a bowl of Jell-O.
“You’re amazing,” he told her earnestly, his eyes searching her face while he tried to catch his breath. “I don’t know what it is about you…”
He said that before, she thought, her heart skipping slightly. I’m not delusional. He’s my mate. The realization should have sent some sort of alarm through her, but she could not release the heady feeling of happiness she was experiencing in that moment. Obviously, nothing can happen between us, she thought rationally, finally managing to sit up. This is the one and only time that we can do this.
But when they stared at one another, Samantha wondered why she was bothering lying to herself.
“Are you thinking about Marco?” Jordan asked in a gruff tone. She couldn’t stop herself from bursting into laughter.
“No,” she snickered, pulling herself off the counter to stare at him. “Not at all.”
Jordan’s mouth formed a line of disapproval. “Are you going to tell him about this?”
Samantha cocked her head to the side, her grin not faltering. “My relationship with Marco is not what you think.”
Jordan’s expression lightened slightly.
“Oh?” She readjusted her clothes and met his eyes. “Aren’t you marrying him?”
“I am.” Jordan’s eyes were almost black as disappointment overwhelmed him.
“So how have I got this wrong?”
“I can’t tell you,” Samantha told him softly, shifting her eyes away. “But you’ll have to trust me when I say that we have no reason to feel guilty about this.”
Jordan eyed her skeptically. “You say that without being able to look me in the eye,” he countered. “Obviously, we’re doing something wrong.”
“I should go,” Samantha snapped, knowing she’d already said too much. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay?” She didn’t need to look to see Jordan’s eyes boring into her. She could feel them like hot coals at her back.
“Sam…”
“Hm?” She purposely averted her gaze.
“What are you?”
The question startled her, and she looked at him in surprise. “What?”
“You’re not a Lycan, but you’re a shifter, aren’t you?”
A peculiar, worried sensation filled her gut.
“Does it matter?” she asked lightly. “What I am?”
“It matters to me,” he replied shortly
. “Or are we going to base this entire relationship on secrets from start to finish?”
Samantha swallowed. Is this a relationship? Can it be one? A half-smile formed on her lips, and she exhaled. He’s right, though. I should be honest with him when I can.
“I’m a fox,” she answered simply, dropping a kiss on his cheek and disappearing out the door before he could register the unbelievable information she had just given him.
She was grateful that she hadn’t given him her cell phone number to follow up that bombshell. Still, she knew she had just unleashed more drama in her life that she really could have done without.
7
Harley Voight had reason to believe that his protégé was in trouble.
On the surface, there was nothing concrete. Quite the contrary, in fact. Jordan was following his rigorous training, adhering to his instructions and progressing at a pace which would have normally made the seasoned trainer very happy. Except for one small fact: Jordan never seemed to be there.
Yes, he went through the movements, the gestures, and the work, but Harley couldn’t shake the idea that his star fighter was somewhere else entirely, his mind focused on something completely unrelated to fighting.
It’s almost like he is on autopilot, he thought, watching the younger man spar with another gym member. The blows landed on target, his stance was perfect, and yet… Harley shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was feeling.
“Hey, Southpaw. Let’s take lunch,” he called. Jordan’s competitor spit out his mouth guard and grinned broadly, clearly excited to have had such a sparring partner.
“That was insane, man! Thank you so much!” he told Jordan, bumping his gloved hands together in excitement. “Wait ‘til I tell the guys in class that I got a chance to spar with you!” The kid jumped out of the ring and scampered away like a child. Jordan blinked, watching his opponent leave, and turned to Harley with a puzzled expression on his face.
