“I don’t know. Maybe… read it?”
I’d never known a Jordan who wouldn’t look me in the eye, whose voice sounded so tired and defeated.
“I read it,” I said, my voice breaking even as I rolled my eyes. “You know what I see here?”
He sighed. “That I’m pathetic? That I’m begging you to understand that—”
“That what? Some weird possessive streak left over from when we were kids compels you to mess with every single date I have in Philly? That we sleep together a few times and suddenly I’m not allowed to have a relationship with anyone else without feeling guilty about it?”
“No! Jesus, Liz, no. I just… I don’t know. This was the last time I’ll say anything to you. You pretty obviously didn’t want me to contact you, so I didn’t. I guess I just needed you to know. Submitting something with the paper was the only way I knew for sure you’d hear what I had to say. Yes, it was selfish. No, I don’t regret it. Because, dammit, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I sucked in a breath, which he seemed to take as permission to take a step closer. I stood in place.
“You’re the first girl I ever wanted to spend more than one night in a row with. I guess I just… couldn’t stand the thought of those nights ending, is all.”
I let my breath back out, long and slow, then raised the paper back in front of me with a still-trembling hand. I read out loud, “I’m in love with you… let me prove that I can be the kind of man you deserve.”
He took another step forward, and I felt my desire for him, my all-consuming want to be near him, beginning to take over. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I mean every single word.”
I let out a shuddering breath, and he took two more steps toward me, nearly closing the distance between us. Slowly, he reached out a hand, brushing his fingertips along the underside of my forearm for a torturous second. “Look at me, Liz. Please,” he said, his voice breaking.
I knew what would happen if I did. I knew that instinct would win over, would pull me into his arms, would guide me to where my heart knew I belonged.
I’d spent so long second-guessing every single move I made around him since the day he set foot in my—our—apartment. There was one similarity between that moment and this one—I had nothing to lose.
So I took the final step, letting my toes touch his, and tilted my chin up so my lips were a breath away from his. Jordan’s eyes fell closed as his hands slowly, reverently, moved up to cup my face, his long fingers brushing my hairline.
“Oh, Liz. Thank God,” he breathed before capturing my lips in a soft, tender kiss.
My lips parted of their own accord, letting me sigh into his mouth, and he swallowed my breath like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. I pressed up on my toes, turning the kiss into something desperate, claiming. His arm circled my waist, pulling me up on my tiptoes and tight against his chest, while he nipped at my bottom lip, then soothed the little hurt with a swipe of his tongue. My fingers itched to wander under his shirt, but I pulled away to slow myself down.
“Your writing sucks,” I murmured against his mouth. “Or, you know. Alphonso’s does.”
“How did you know? Is it that obvious that he re-wrote half the thing?” he growled, still holding me tight to him, his fingers hooking into my belt loops and digging into the skin there, like I would fade away if he didn’t.
“Nobody else would use the phrase ‘the kind of man you deserve.’ Definitely not you,” I said, giggling into his mouth. God, I’d missed the feel of him so much in just a week. It was insane.
He pulled back, a look of mock scandal on his face. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I can be romantic!”
“I know. But I wouldn’t love you so much if you even thought about writing something that cheesy.”
His grip on my waist gentled, and he reached up to stroke my hair, pressing a feather-light kiss on my lips. His forehead touched mine, and he closed his eyes with a gentle smile. “You love me?” he asked in low voice, his breaths coming heavy and hot now.
“I’m pretty sure I do, yeah. But if you really want to seal the deal, taking me to bed would probably do the trick.”
As soon as he saw the teasing quirk of my lips, he dipped down, catching the backs of my knees with a strong forearm, and had me hoisted in the air, bridal-style. “I think I can manage that,” he panted before sprinting both of us into my room. I squealed and kicked the door shut behind us.
Chapter 33
Jordan
“Why did she do it?” Liz asked between licks and bites to my abdomen that were quickly taking away all rational thought. Her fingers started to brush right under the waistband of my jeans, her thumb flicking at the button.
“Do what?” I managed.
“Monica. Why did she let you publish the letter?” She flicked the button open and slowly pulled the zipper down, then sat up and tugged my jeans and boxers all the way off. She was still wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, with no makeup and her hair a mess. I had never seen a more gorgeous sight in my whole life.
She knelt between my legs, wobbling a little bit on the unsteady mattress, and then leaned down.
“You’re not gonna like it,” I groaned as her tongue circled the head of my cock, making my head feel fuzzy as every one of my neurons focused between my legs. Her glistening lips had already started to work up and down my shaft, just the way she knew I loved. She pulled away with a pop, and I whimpered. She raised her eyebrows.
“You want me to keep this up? Tell me.”
“Okay,” I said, covering my eyes with my hand. “She asked for a vote on this, too.”
Liz sat bolt upright, her eyes wide. “What the hell for?”
“Everyone who voted that we’d break up for good got entered for a chance to win a gift certificate at Joey and Hawk’s.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “I should have known. More ad buys. And what did the people who voted we’d get together get entered for?”
“Oh my God,” I said, suddenly mortified. Last night I’d been so focused on this last chance to communicate with Liz, to pour my heart out to her, that I didn’t really care how embarrassing the trappings of the thing were.
“Jordan? Tell me.”
The wetness Liz had licked onto my cock was drying, making it cold. If there was ever a time to fess up, it was now. “A year’s supply of condoms.”
But instead of ranting about how ridiculous it was, how cheap it made her look as a journalist, how nobody would ever take her seriously now, Liz just threw back her head and laughed. For a second, I was worried she was finally cracking under all the stress of the last few days.
“What?” I asked after a few seconds of my hard-on starting to wilt. Nothing to accomplish that quite like a girl kneeling over you and laughing.
“Just…I don’t suppose you thought about stacking that vote, hmmm? Because we’re gonna need all the condoms we can get.”
I half-rolled my eyes and smiled at her. “No we’re not. Because there’s not going to be anyone else for me,” I murmured curling my fingers under her shoulders and giving her a little tug. “C’mere,” I managed before pulling her lips to mine.
We kissed for a long time, our tongues meeting in languid swipes, tasting and mapping each other’s mouths, like this was the first time we’d kissed and like we had all the time in the world, all at once. With each passing second, I grew harder, and she got wetter, until my cock was gliding through her lips and I thought I would combust. “Liz,” I groaned, and either she read my mind or was thinking the same thing, because her hand darted down to ease my cock to her entrance.
In the next breath, she’d lowered herself fully onto me. God, I fit so perfectly inside her, and her wet heat felt so delicious surrounding me, I never wanted this to end.
Maybe it wouldn’t have to.
We rocked together like we’d done it a thousand times, and would do it a thousand times again. The thought was so overwhelming that I p
ulled her back down to me for a sloppy, searing kiss, and she whimpered as she responded in kind.
When we finally finished, moaning incoherent things into each other’s mouths, Liz collapsed on top of me, gasping. “Love you,” I murmured into her hair, marveling at how warm and full it made me feel just to say the words I’d been thinking and feeling for so long.
To think that I’d almost been too cowardly to say them at all.
“I know it’s kind of forward, since we just got back together,” she panted into my neck. “But…I was going to ask you…”
“Yeah?” I asked, breathless all over again. “Anything.”
On shaking arms, she pushed herself up, her hair falling in curtains around us. “Well…what would you think about moving in with me?”
I grinned as my fingers danced over her ribs, tickling her in retribution for that most welcome of little teases. She collapsed on me again in a fit of giggles, and I captured her lips with mine while I was still grinning. Our teeth clacked together and neither of us could catch our breath, but I didn’t care, and I had a pretty good feeling that she didn’t either.
It was good to finally be back home.
***
Sign up for the Alessandra Thomas Newsletter for information about new releases and sales
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, as always, thank you to Lyla Payne, my ride-or-die, who reads every single thing I write and tells me how to make it better. Thank you for being by my side in this crazy romance-writing world from day one. I couldn’t do any of this without you.
Julianne Daly, my faithful copyeditor, went through this book with a fine-toothed comb so that no serious grammar or spelling atrocities would be committed in its pages. I am appreciative; my readers, even more so.
Denise Grover Swank, thank you for volunteering your love, time, and energy to give this book one more editorial once-over, plus a shiny new cover from Estella. Your belief in me is a source of encouragement every day.
Dear readers, thank you for showing up to lose yourselves in these stories. A special shoutout to those of you who have been with me since book one. I may have taken a short break from publishing, but I never stopped writing new stories for you to read one day. I’m so grateful to you for spending time with Liz, Jordan, and all the characters in books still to come.
About the Author
Aless is the bestselling author of several steamy romances who swears she was in her twenties yesterday. Since that's sadly untrue, she spends her time writing fun, sexy stories about men and women falling in love under the most unlikely circumstances.
* * *
When she's not writing, you can find her with a spoonful of ice cream in one hand and a romance novel in the other, snuggled up with one of her giant dogs.
Also by Alessandra Thomas
Picturing Perfect Series
Picture Perfect
Subject to Change
Drop Everything Now
***
Sign up for the Alessandra Thomas Newsletter for information about new releases and sales
Just Down the Hall Page 27
