by Liz Durano
“I’m glad that part’s no longer in question,” I say, biting my lower lip. “Unfortunately, Ma didn't take it too well. She really got upset after you left but Dad says she’ll deal with it. I mean, she will, but she’ll still be angry at me knowing I lied about how I got pregnant.”
Jordan shrugs. “Whether you lied or not, it doesn’t matter. I’m her father and I plan to be here for her.”
“I could be fifty and she'll still try to run my life. And of course, I let her because she lays on the guilt pretty thick and I fall for it every time.” I pause, sighing. If I keep talking about my mother, I’ll be a mess. I can only take one shock a night a time and right now, Piper’s colic has done me in. “Anyway, I'll take you up on it. The feeding, I mean, as long as you promise to wake me up when she cries and looks for me.”
“If she looks for you, yeah,” Jordan says. “But I hope she going to get used to me eventually.”
“True. She’ll be half asleep when you nurse her anyway so you’ll do okay. Anyway, there are two monitors so you can take one and keep it here with you.”
When I return to the living room, I catch Jordan yawning. “You look beat yourself. Are you sure–”
“I’m sure," he says, taking the video monitor from me. “Now go to bed and let me take over.”
I don't wait another second. I brush my teeth and dive into bed, leaving the extra monitor on the bedside table. I shouldn’t be this exhausted, but this is what happens when one stays up late stalking the guy they’re kinda seeing. Because in a way, I am seeing him.
I should have done this when he first returned to my life, especially now that I have the right last name. When I was looking for him last year, I’d mistakenly remembered him as Jordan Anderson and, no surprise, I never found him. But now that I have the correct name, I could finally do it again, the right name this time.
I’d started my search on social media and found him right away, or at least, indirectly through Rachel whose page was filled with pictures of them together that it sets my jealous meter on overdrive. The pictures spanned years and included their families. I couldn’t help but ogle at a younger-looking Jordan, lanky with unkempt hair so red in the light of day and then as the years went on, each picture depicting him growing bigger, more buff, with his hair cropped close, emphasizing his square jaw and green-hazel eyes. They looked happy in their early pictures and they seemed to have partied a lot, too, always surrounded by friends. He was always smiling until he wasn’t especially in most recent years. The last photo was from two years ago on Rachel’s birthday where she wrote, Five years and still waiting…(hint hint)
Ouch.
And then the pictures of both of them stopped. The rest were of Rachel and her friends, and a few of her with some new guy, a dark-haired one with his arm over her shoulder and in another picture, of both of them on the rooftop pool of nearby Soho House, lounging on the chairs with drinks in their hands. The most recent ones were of Rachel with her friends, and nothing with the new guy.
I found a few more pictures on another page, this time from ReBuild to Heal’s official business page, the nonprofit he’d worked with for the past year. If I ever doubted his story, the proof was suddenly right in front of me. He was building schools and clinics all that time and he looked happy. Some pictures had him surrounded by children gathered around him as he wrote something on a pad of paper. Another showed him shirtless in the tropical heat with other young men and women, all of them getting down and dirty with two-by-fours and hollow blocks.
I didn’t really have to spend all that time searching for information about Jordan, but I’d been so worked up over Ma’s objection to Jordan that I had to keep my mind busy on something. And staring at six-pack abs was a good distraction. But even six-pack abs can only do so much. I’d also started feeling sorry for myself and had almost texted Jordan about needing time away from him. Why, I have no idea, not when I had his abs to think about. But Ma's disappointment hit me harder than I expected and my first reaction was to push Jordan away so she'd be happy again.
But what good would that do Piper and me? Isn't it time I live my life on my own terms now? Isn't it time for me to smile in my own pictures for a change?
I burrow under the covers, my body exhausted but my mind still awake. My sheets feel so good against my skin, my bed so soft and comfy. But I can’t help but feel there’s something still glaringly wrong with this picture.
Why isn't he in bed with me?
I must have slept for five hours straight because I didn't hear Piper cry for her night feeding at all. In fact, it's too quiet. Suddenly I bolt out of bed in a panic, rush into the nursery and run straight into Jordan's chest. I must have bounced for I feel myself falling backward but he grabs both my arms and holds me upright.
“Shh, I just finished giving her a bottle and she's asleep,” he whispers as I stare at him for a few seconds. “You're half asleep, too, Addy.”
“Oh, that's right.” I take a step back, embarrassed as I smooth my fingers over my hair. I had had the sweetest dream and it involved having Jordan in my bed. I clear my throat. I need to focus. “Did she have any problems taking the bottle?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. She was half asleep the whole time. She burped just fine and now she's sleeping again. What time does she usually wake up again?”
I think for a few minutes. “Six or seven?”
“It's about 3:30 right now, so it’s probably best to get back to sleep,” he says and we stand in the hallway for a few minutes, not speaking as I do the math inside my head. Two and a half hours, at least. When did the declaration of time become so loaded with meaning?
Suddenly I'm aware of what he's wearing, a white shirt and dark boxer briefs. And he looks damn good in them. When he notices my gaze, he clears his throat.
“Oh, that. I didn't have time to put my pants on when I heard her on the monitor. I didn't want her to wake you.”
I smile. “That's okay. With you, it's a nice view.” The moment the words leave my lips, I regret them. Nice view? What the hell did that mean? Can I be any more forward?
“Is that why you're still looking?” he murmurs and I remind myself to look up at his face. But I can’t. I want to touch him, feel him, make sure he’s real.
“It's just that... well, I haven't had a guy over in a long time. I mean, a guy-guy, not my dad kinda guy. Oh, crap.” I bury my face in my hands. I'm making such a fool of myself.
“But I'm not just any guy.”
I bite my lower lip. I just hope I’m not drooling. “No, you're definitely not." This time I focus on his face again, his green eyes reflecting the faint glow from my bedroom.
I tell myself to stop staring and go back to bed, that I shouldn’t let my body rule over my head the way I let it when I first met Jordan, cocky to believe that I could walk away so easily only to realize days later how wrong I was. So I tell myself that it’s best to walk away from him right now and pretend I’m not attracted to him… that I don’t want him.
But I’m also tired of pretending to be the good girl everyone in my family thinks I am. I’m tired of playing by the rules that may have gotten me far out there in the world but not too far when it came to my own body and my own needs. I’m tired of denying myself the things that I really want, so afraid of failing in front of my parents… my mother, most of all.
But who am I really failing this time, if I keep lying to myself? Whose life am I living anyway, how long can I keep doing this?
“Tell me what you want, Addy.” His voice is lower, its effect going straight between my legs. “What you really want.”
I look up at him. “What I really want? You really want to know?”
“Yes, I do,” Jordan replies in a low voice. “I want you to tell me what you want. Right now. Right here. Stop doubting yourself. Sometimes, you just have to say it out loud.”
“I want you to kiss me,” I blurt out. “There, how about that?”
A split second before I
can take the words back with a horrified and awkward apology, Jordan dips his head and does what I ask. He kisses me. His lips are soft and warm, his hands cradling my face even warmer. It feels like someone turned up the heat for his touch sears right through me. I gasp, my lips parting as our kiss grows deeper. It's a kiss my body remembers all too well a year after the last one.
He lowers his hands, resting one behind my neck and the other sliding down to my waist, and pulls me closer. I feel his erection against my belly and I gasp at the memory that comes, of the night he showed me how it felt to let go and not worry about the world. I slip my hands under his shirt. His skin is warm and the muscles underneath, rippling.
I pull away, linking my fingers of one hand with his. Then I start walking back to the bedroom. Jordan tugs me to him again and kisses me, harder this time, then he draws back and in one motion, scoops me in his arms and carries into the bedroom.
“Guess that's one way to do it,” I whisper when he lowers me on the bed and kisses me again. I love the way he holds me, the way my body responds to him so readily. I don't want to wait and within minutes, I've managed to pull off his shirt and tug his boxer briefs down his legs. Then I pull him down to the bed, letting him lay on his back.
Tonight, I want to do most of the exploring. I want to taste him and feel him. I want to listen to him shatter in front of me like he did that night. Both of us had been so open then. Well, at least, I was.
Jordan props a pillow under his head, watching me blaze a trail of kisses down his chest, his fingers tangling in my hair as I stroke his cock. I love the feel of him, firm and smooth as silk against my skin. I run my tongue along the indentations that mark his six-pack abs, loving the way the muscles ripple in response. A soft growl escapes his lips when I wrap my hand around his shaft. He watches me as I tease the head of his cock with the tip of my tongue before licking him from base to tip. He licks his lips as he watches me, moving his hips as I continue to tease him with my tongue, my other hand cradling and massaging his balls. I love how he lets me take charge, his fingers gripping the sheets on either side of him when I take his hard thick length in my mouth.
It doesn't take long before Jordan's fingers grip my hair and he says my name. “My turn,” he says as he sits up on the bed and pulls me up to him, kissing me again.
I moan against his mouth, loving the way his tongue explores and tastes me just like he did that first night. I love the way I seem to fit perfectly in his arms like I was made for him. Still kissing me, he maneuvers our bodies so that I'm lying on the bed this time, his arms hooked around my hips and pinning me to the sheets. He licks the skin of my belly and I fight the first wave of embarrassment that hits me, wishing it were flat like it was when we'd first met.
“You're so beautiful, Addy,” he murmurs as if reading my mind. “Let go and let me show you how beautiful you are.”
When he lowers his head between my legs, I turn my head to the side and bury my face into the pillows the moment his tongue tastes me, his stubble scratching the insides of my thighs. I moan, my hips rising to meet him, yearning to feel his tongue between my pussy lips and his mouth suck on my sensitive clit. But I also want him to fuck me senseless.
“Stop,” I whisper and he looks up, frowning.
“What is it?”
“I want you inside me. Now.” When he makes a move to leave the bed, I grab his hand to stop him. I turn my body toward the bedside table and open the drawer where I have a brand-new box of condoms. “Will these do?”
He grins. “That's more than enough for now.”
I don't say anything else as Jordan takes one, tears the wrapper open and sheaths his gorgeous cock. “Tell me what you want again, Addy. Tell me all of it,” he whispers as he positions himself over me, gliding his cock between my pussy lips and coating himself with my juices.
“I want you to fuck me,” I breathe, feeling each inch of him slide inside me slowly, his gaze never leaving my face. I close my eyes at the sensations that wrack my body, at how good it feels to be filled by him. He pulls away and then slides in again as I gasp, digging my fingers into the skin of his shoulders. He does this a few more times, our breaths mingling as we cling to each other. When Jordan picks up speed, I feel myself caught in a wave that keeps falling and then rising, building and building. I whisper his name in his ear, loving the way his stubble scratches my cheek.
When he nibbles and sucks the sensitive spot between my neck and shoulder, I let go and feel myself shatter, that giant wave finally cresting just before crashing against the shore. I almost cry out his name as I come, forgetting that we need to be quiet but not before his mouth muffles my cries as he buries himself inside me. Moments later, I feel Jordan’s body shudder as his release comes, and he collapses over me.
Along with the rain drumming on the windows, our breathing is the only thing I hear, the beating of his heart against my breasts the only thing I feel as we lie tangled in the covers.
As he opens his eyes, I can’t help but think that maybe not all one-night stands are meant to last only one night. Maybe sometimes, they’re meant to last a lot longer… like forever.
Chapter Fourteen
Sometime in the night I wake up to find Addison lying on her side, studying me. When she realizes I’m awake, she smiles sheepishly. “You caught me.”
“I did.”
“I thought you were asleep,” she whispers.
“I was.” Behind her I can see the video monitor and Piper is asleep. “But a little bird told me—in my dream, no less—that someone wasn’t sleeping when she should have been. Probably thinking too much like she always does.”
“I wasn’t exactly thinking. Just looking at you.”
“But you were thinking still,” he prods.
“Yes.”
“So what were you thinking about?”
She sighs. “I know it’s the worst time to talk about this but you never told me how you feel about being an instant father.”
“You never asked.”
“I’m asking you now,” Addison says, tracing invisible circles along my bicep.
I fluff up the pillows under my head and pull her closer to me as I lie back down. It’s something I’ve been thinking about from the time Addison told me in her office that she got pregnant up until the moment I breathed in the scent of my daughter, so sweet and so innocent. The thought alone sends goosebumps rising from my skin. “I know it’s cliché, but other than a condom failing that night, I guess things happen for a reason. Maybe it was meant to be… somehow we were supposed to meet. Or maybe it was just an accident.”
“A lesson maybe? Not to be too trusting and bringing strange women up to your apartment?”
“Or maybe not,” I say, smiling. I can tell she’s feeling conflicted again, her emotions evident on her face. I like how honest she is and whenever she doubts herself, she chews on her lower lip. I wonder just how much of life she’s lived until that night we met at Polly’s. Did she ever let go before then? “We can analyze it all we can, Addy. We can even come up with hypothesis and stuff, the way you being a doctor like to do, but it won’t change anything. I’m a father and you’re the mother of my daughter. Sometimes, things don’t have to be analyzed to the death. Sometimes they happen and you just have to roll with it. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, it was all meant to be. You and me in that bar singing that Sonny and Cher song off-key.”
She laughs. “You were off-key. I wasn’t.”
“You’re right. I was hoping you forgot all about that,” I say, touching the tip of her nose playfully. “But I’d rather move on and work with what we have right now, Addy, which I hope is what you want, too.
Addison doesn’t say anything. She only nods and takes my hand, positioning herself so she can study my palm and trace the lines and when she’s done with those, letting her finger trail up one finger at a time, her brow furrowed in concentration though there’s also a unabashed curiosity in her gaze.
“Enjoying yourself
?” I ask and she looks up, as if just noticing that I’m there.
“I love the feel of your hands,” she says. “They’re so rough.”
“They’re worker hands. So unlike yours. Soft and smooth. Delicate.”
“Your hands are big and strong and rough.”
“The better to hold you with, my dear,” I growl playfully as Addison giggles, the seriousness of our earlier conversation gone.
Raindrops on the window cast shadows on her beautiful face. She glides her fingers up my forearm and biceps before they rest on my chest, drawing lazy circles on my skin again. “I love your pecs. They’re so hard and so defined. And then there’s your chest hair.”
I chuckle. “What about chest hair? Because I am not shaving it.”
“Don’t. I love it. Not too much, not too little, and the right shade of red,” she says as I fight the urge to laugh.
“The better to pull you close to me and keep you there, my dear,” I growl again.
She arches an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Why don’t you come closer and find out?”
She leans closer to study my face. She traces my lower lip with her index finger.
“What perfect lips you have.”
“The better to kiss you with, my dear.”
She slips her finger between my lips and runs it along the top of my lower teeth. “My, what perfect teeth you have.”
“The better to eat you with, my dear.” I suck her finger in my mouth and watch her gasp.
“Really?” She bites her lower lip.
“Really,” I murmur as I position her so she’s sitting on top of me, her legs straddling my hips. She’s a beautiful sight, her hair down over her shoulders, her breasts full. I weave my fingers with hers and rest my hands on the bed so she’s right on top of me, her warm breath against my face, her breasts pressed against my chest.
“You’re so big and hard,” she whispers, this time no longer referencing my muscles but something else. She arches an eyebrow knowingly.
“The better to make love to you, my dear. Or would you like me to say it another way?”
