by Brandon Witt
Lucy, you got some splainin’ to do.
I sighed. “Hey.”
“Hey?” It didn’t sound like a greeting. Which he immediately confirmed by raising an eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say to me?”
“You must be Jordan,” Nick said hastily. He held out a hand, which Jordan shook automatically.
“I’m surprised he even told you my name,” Jordan said, his gaze sliding to mine. “But thank you for your hospitality.”
Nick’s smile was a little too bright, and I could tell, from years of knowing him all too well, that he found my dressing-down hilarious. “Let’s get inside, you guys. It’s too cold out here.”
Peyton fled inside, as if all the tension was just too much for the mountain man. Jordan followed, leaving Nick and I to bring up the rear.
“You failed to mention he looks like a GQ wet dream,” Nick whispered, elbowing me. “You always were a forgetful little thing.”
“Shut up,” I hissed. I had a hard enough time not focusing on his looks as it was.
By the time we reached the coat area, Jordan was squatting down by Finn to scratch his ears.
“What is he doing here? Did Trevor change his mind?”
I paused in my methodical removal of my coat and other outerwear. “I, err, sort of broke into his house. Stole him.”
“What?”
“Whoa,” Nick said at the same time.
“He is my dog,” I said defensively.
“I wondered where you had gone,” Jordan said. “I stopped by your apartment. Your truck wasn’t there. Please tell me you didn’t drive that thing up here.”
“I sold my truck.” Sold it, pawned it off on a young, desperate teenager, what’s the difference? “I bought a new car.”
He stared at me, and I flushed. Yeah, when I finally decided to make a move, I was kind of like an avalanche that way.
“Jordan, you guys have about an hour to get settled in if you want hot chow,” Nick said. “We’re about to fix dinner for everyone.”
I don’t know who this “we” business referred to. If he was speaking of the Ghost of Peyton Present, he’d fled the room and all its tension long ago. Peyton was probably hugging a moose and cursing city people as we spoke.
“I assume Mackenzie can show me to the room.” Jordan finished hanging his gray-checked Burberry scarf and looked at me expectantly. “That is, unless he’d prefer me to bed down in the barn.”
I tamped down the embers of my own temper. He wasn’t exactly innocent here. He hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to convince me we were a sure thing. Besides, he wished he could bed down in the barn. After a week of being apart and, thusly, self-imposed celibacy, we were going to have sex. Well, first we were going to argue, and then we were going to have sex—I really didn’t care if it was angry sex or not.
“Follow me,” I gritted out, brushing past him hard enough to make him move a step.
I made extra noise on the staircase to vent my frustration, and I could hear Jordan on my heels.
“Real mature,” he said, (of course not out of breath) as I huffed up the stairs.
“Can it,” I snapped. Yeah, it was going to be angry sex.
When we reached the top of the stairs, I unlocked the door and blew right in, slamming the door. Which of course he reopened a second later and slammed behind him.
“Nice,” he said. “Real nice. Let me guess, you’re not ready to be an adult?”
We seemed to be of the same mind as he yanked his shirt out of his jeans and over his head. I was made briefly stupid by the sight of his bare chest, but his fingers on his belt buckle made me hurry and speak. If I didn’t get it out now, I wouldn’t be able to. God, there was something about the authoritative way he took off that belt buckle, eyes locked on mine. Something that said we were about to fuck.
“Someone’s fairly horny,” I said. My voice sounded thick. Funny.
“Of course I’m horny,” he said, grabbing me by the belt loops and pulling me against him. He rubbed his cock into mine, and I felt the haze of lust lick at my consciousness. “We haven’t had sex in a week,” he muttered against my mouth.
“Well, whose fault was that?”
“Yours!” he said, frustrated, working to pull up my shirt.
I felt like I had cotton in my head, and I pushed him back a few steps, tangled in my shirt. Blinked to clear the sexual haze as I pulled it back down. Tried to remember what virus had cracked my mind’s software to make me leave all this behind in Florida. Ah. Yes.
“You said see ya,” I growled in his direction. I tried to point, but my hand was shaking a bit. No matter. He knew what the hell I meant. “I was upset and frustrated, and all you could offer me was a flip ‘see ya’?”
He bit his lip. Gave me a miserable look. “I wanted to hurt you. Hurt you as badly as you were hurting me.”
“You succeeded.”
He ran his hand through his hair and then down over his face, exhaling strongly. “So let’s talk about it. Like two adults. Minus the hurting one another.”
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
His eyes almost approached wolflike intensity. “By giving up on me? Us? Goddamn it, can you give me ten fucking seconds to get used to the idea that everything has changed? You know, without leaving the state?”
I looked down at my hands. We’d already established that was a fault of mine. When something went wrong in a relationship, I reacted. I reacted badly. We should have had this conversation that day, back in his kitchen. Maybe we could have if I hadn’t acted like a big ole Moe and taken off. I sighed. Might as well put all my cards on the table. If we got past this—and that was a big if—I didn’t want to go over it ever again.
“You were back a day early,” I said evenly. “And you didn’t tell me.”
“More PI business?” His tone was laced with a trace of bitterness. “Do you pay yourself a retainer, or is that just pro bono?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t know that you were, but now that I do….” I lifted my shoulders helplessly. “I have to know.”
“I had the taxi take me straight from the airport to your office, I was so excited to see you. I was waiting in your office—you can ask your secretary. Thin? Kind of a habitual frowner? She brought me coffee. And then Rachel called. She was crying, said she had to talk to me. I knew she and I had some important things to talk about, and I didn’t know how long it would take. It wouldn’t be fair to her to drop her like a hot potato because I wanted to be with you. It could wait a day. I didn’t think you’d understand.”
I ignored the feelings fighting for superiority in my chest. Relief blooming because I knew he told the truth. Happiness because he was as excited to see me as I’d been to see him. Delight that he’d come straight from the airport just to be with me. And as always, the surety that none of those feelings could last.
“I thought you were having second thoughts. That you weren’t sure of me. Us.”
He sighed. “How can you be sure of how anything is going to turn out? I can only promise that I want to be with you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “And I was the kid that asked Santa for a Huffy bike ten times.”
“And when you get tired of me? Tired of this experiment?” I looked back at him. “Ten times? For real? What were your parents, Nazis?”
He ignored the latter half of my question. “You don’t get tired of people that you lo—”
I slammed my hand over his mouth. “Don’t say that right now. Not in the same sentence as you not being sure about us.”
He licked my palm leisurely, and I shivered. Finger by finger, his tongue paid absolute attention to every digit. By the time I released his mouth I was a shivery mess.
“How can I convince you if you won’t let me tell you how I feel?” When my eyes lifted to his, there was nothing but truth there. So I felt the punch clear to my stomach when he said, “I love you.”
I wanted those words.
I needed those words. I squeezed my eyes shut. Wished I could believe those words.
“Look at me.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t want to see me?”
My heart squeezed at the sadness in his voice, and my eyes flew open. “Of course I want to see you. I love to look at you. I would look at you all day if I….” I trailed off to see the amusement in his eyes.
“What can I say to make you believe me?”
I didn’t actually know. I should be ecstatic, over-the-moon happy. But part of me, the part of me that I had only become recently aware of, told me that it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t last. Why should I get exactly what I want with who I wanted?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he said. “What do you want to know?”
“The baby. What if it’s—”
“Mine? We’ll deal with that then. She’s pretty sure it’s his, though, because we weren’t really intimate at the end there. But you know Rache. She just wanted to cover all her bases and let everyone know about every possible outcome. I swear, she’s going to have that kid a day planner before he’s two.”
I had to smile a little at that. He was probably right.
“So you. You and Rachel. Are you—”
“We’re over. There’s nothing there, Mac. But she’s a nice person, a good friend. I owed it to her to break it off gently.”
“Even though she cheated on you?”
“I can hardly blame her.” He spread his hands. “I haven’t been there for her… mentally, for a long time. She found someone who would pay her the attention she deserves.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smiled a crooked half smile. This time when he reached for me, I let him pull me close. “Besides. I’m kind of into wise-cracking, sun-worshipping surfer dudes who jump to conclusions now. It’s taking up a lot of my time.”
He kissed me then, so thoroughly that it actually curled my toes. His tongue worked through my mouth slow and deep, leaving my nerves sensitized and frenetic. My cock throbbed in response, and I was tired of pretending I wasn’t affected by his nearness. My hands slid down to his waist, then to his behind, and I pulled him flush against my body. Undulating against him. Grinding.
“So we’re okay,” he said. One of his broad hands slid under my shirt, rubbing the sensitive skin of my stomach.
“We’re okay,” I said, unresisting as his other hand tangled in my hair.
He held my head still as his tongue swept through my mouth, and I felt the jolt clear to my knees. His mouth trailed down my neck, pressing kisses against the skin there.
“We should take this slow, though,” I managed, baring my neck for better access. “Slower than we have been.”
He cocked his head in confusion, and I hastened to explain. “So that we’ll both be okay when… if things don’t—”
“Asshole,” he whispered. He gave me a push, and I staggered back. He swallowed a few times. His voice was stronger when he spoke again. “I tell you that I love you, and this is how you respond?”
“What do you expect me to say, Jordan?” I speared my hair with my fingertips, knowing I was screwing this up so badly. “I’m trying to be understanding. Supportive. All that crap. Give you an out.”
“What about anything that I said indicated I wanted an out?”
“Last I saw, you were cuddled up with your fiancée—”
“Yes, and then I bought a rather expensive, last-minute ticket here to prove that you’re important to me. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.” The moment the words flew out of my mouth, I wanted them back. His mouth went tight and his eyes went flinty.
He folded his arms. “I’m done chasing you. I’ve chased you to your apartment, to your office, and now halfway across the damn country. One thousand four hundred eighty-seven miles.” The gap between us had never seemed so wide. “You’re going to have to make up those last few feet.”
Dammit, it was just so simple. Why couldn’t I trust and believe that anything good could last? I felt the sting of tears at the back of my eyes. The hurricane my mother had sent through my life was still thrashing and spinning anything in its path, throwing both tangibles and intangibles in its wake. Destruction. Furniture and trees. Love. Happiness. Trust. She fucking broke me.
And I knew then that I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take that last step. As I spun on my heel, I knew I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life.
Despite his words, he grabbed my arm when I would have fled and whirled me around to face him. I struggled against his hold for a moment, realizing with a little bit of shock that it was futile. I was strong but obviously no match for him. Apparently he took working out as seriously as he did everything else.
“You’re not leaving me that easily. Not this time.”
“Move,” I ground out. “Or I’ll move you.”
He twisted my arm up behind my back—not hard enough to hurt, but certainly enough to show who was in charge. “You and what army?”
I growled furiously, helpless. I would rather he hurt me than treat me like a wayward child. Maybe that’s why I was determined to let my past win. On some level, I was still hurt, and I wasn’t done hurting him back, despite my agreement to do so. It was cowardly, and I hid the shame with anger. “Get. Off!”
“Mackenzie,” he began warningly.
I worked one of my hands loose and took a swipe at him, which he blocked and then recaptured my hands. Fingers deftly shoved my flimsy belt through the loops of my khakis and began working my button one handed. His fingers brushed my aching dick through the worn material, and I hissed.
“What are you doing?” My voice wasn’t nearly as authoritative as I wanted it to be.
“I should think that would be obvious.”
My pants fell around my knees, restricting my movement. I bucked against him, but I couldn’t deny what he and I both knew—I was as turned on as he was. Even without the visual of my dripping cock, bobbing in the air. I felt him throbbing against my leg. Thick. Insistent. The combined scent of our arousal was heady. Made my vision blur. I wanted him to shove me down and have his way with me, had wanted that from the moment I laid eyes on him, all icy and distant in the cold. And as I felt the sudden pressure on my lower back driving me to my knees, I realized with certain clarity that I was about to get my wish.
I was exposed, my most sensitive areas bare to his gaze. I should have been trying to hide. But when I felt those fingers working the ring of my muscle I only sighed. He must have felt my acquiescence because he let my arms fall gently. My spine dipped, and he ran his hands up and down my back, following the arch. I braced my elbows on the floor and let my head fall slack between my tense shoulders.
The sudden scent of apples hit my nose, and I squawked briefly as he inserted his finger, slick with what I could only imagine was the Sugar Valley lotion Nick had left in my goodie basket. “I was going to use that… for something else,” I managed.
“Better than this?” He was close to my ear as another delving digit joined the first.
No, I couldn’t say that applying lotion to my knobby knees while hopping foot to foot was better than this. But he was sure taking his slow-ass sweet time, and I had already waited too long. Even as irritated as he was, he was clearly going to make sure I was good and ready.
I smacked his hand away. “Just do it,” I said through gritted teeth.
He tried to go back to loosening me up, and I slapped him again. He finally bit down, hard, on the hollow of my neck. The pleasure/pain made me go stiff and still as he slowly twisted and rotated those two fingers, pumping them in and out slowly. A whimper escaped my throat, and he groaned in response.
“My luggage,” he ground out. “I need… condom.”
Despite his statement, he added a third finger, making me huff out a breath. I knew it was wrong, but I pushed my ass back at him, daring him to take it, begging him wordlessly
.
“We can’t,” he said, but somehow his cock had tunneled its way between my asscheeks and was leaking a copious amount of fluid there. I clenched and pushed back against him, causing him to grip my hips tensely.
“Just a little,” I whispered, and I knew the magnitude of what I was asking him to do. I didn’t bareback, but damn if I didn’t want him buried balls deep in me, filling me, pounding me clear into the goddamned floor.
The thick, mushroomed head popped in, just enough to make us both groan. And then he was gone, leaving me empty and frustrated.
“We’ll get tested,” he ground out. “And then God help you.” He anchored his hand in my hair and pulled my head back, taking my mouth roughly. “I can’t believe you let me do that,” he scolded when we came up for air.
“I trust you,” I said, and I was surprised to find it was true. We shouldn’t have done it, and I briefly had lost my mind, but I did trust him. When we finally did come together with nothing but skin on skin, it would be absolutely worth the wait.
“’Bout time,” he muttered. “Now where the hell is my bag?”
Mercifully, he found the condom and was back inside of me before I could even voice a complaint. He entered me with no preamble, his length dragging across every sensitized nerve on the way in.
“Shit,” I managed, my hands clawing for traction on the smooth floor.
“Mine,” he ground out as he stroked, long and smooth.
“Who else’s would it be?” I managed. I swore fluently as he pulled out and drilled me again.
God, no one could fuck me like Jordan did. There was no point in denying that. I was mad, not crazy. He was it for me.
“I love you,” I blurted and then wished the floor could open up and eat me whole.
He stilled. “Say it again.”
I shook my head, and he pulled back, nearly all the way to the head, and then even more slowly pushed back in. His grinding had me groaning, making noises that ripped from my throat like a feral animal forced into a cage.
“Say it,” he growled, and finally I did.
“I love you, goddammit,” I swore, pushing a wild tangle of hair out of my eyes. “Now fuck me.”
