Undone

by Kayla, Mia

  He tipped his head toward the bar where Ryan was talking to Cade, most likely about the wrap party. This could potentially be a win-win for both businesses if I could get this done.

  I laughed. “Does it make you jealous that I have his attention?”

  “Yes,” he said, no hesitation, eyes firmly set on mine.

  I blinked, surprised at his honesty. “I think you’ve made it pretty clear that nothing can happen between us. Maybe …” I glanced over at Ryan. “Maybe I think Ryan’s cute.” I was baiting him, and I could tell, based on the look on his face, he didn’t appreciate it.

  He pulled me in, his five-finger grip on my hip, his nose by my ear. “Just because it can’t happen doesn’t mean I don’t picture turning you around, lifting your skirt, and slamming into you to tell everyone to back the hell off.”

  I almost fainted from the heat. And there went my dirty mind, playing back his words. I bit my lip while everything south tingled, begging Jordan to fulfill his promise.

  Our eyes locked, lustful, longing. Seconds ticked by. I told him with one look what I wanted, and I could read the same through his blue irises.

  Then, he backed away, the abrupt movement robbing the air that I breathed.

  He ran one aggravated hand through his hair. “And now, we’re going to have to work together, so it’s an even bigger reason we can’t.”

  I let out a long, disappointed sigh. This back-and-forth between us, this tug-of-war, was giving me whiplash. “Too bad.” I playfully licked my lips. “Because I’m sure it would’ve been a fun ride.”

  I tapped the table twice and walked toward Cade and Ryan, who were still speaking in the corner, all the while trying to calm my raging pulse.

  I didn’t know how I was going to do this, live through all this sexual tension, now knowing I had to deal with him for the next few weeks.

  Chapter 11

  Ryan and Jordan had ridden together to the restaurant. I had driven separately. When I stepped out of the car, I could feel Jordan’s eyes on me. On my bare legs, on my neck, on my skin. The sexual tension between us was at an ultimate high, and I squeezed my thighs together to keep the ache from spreading. I needed a tall glass of water to cool the heat rising within me or a few more glasses of wine to loosen the strain in my shoulders. I hadn’t had enough to drink earlier.

  I keyed into the Wells property, and he held the door open as I strolled in.

  “Here it is.” I strolled over to the wall, searching for the light switch, my heels clip-clopping on the black-and-white tiles. When I switched on the lights, they flickered before fully turning on, and a shiver ran down my spine. Although I didn’t believe the building was haunted, I couldn’t force my body to calm whenever I walked inside, just knowing what had happened here.

  “So, it is haunted,” Jordan joked.

  I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Well, what do you think?”

  Ryan surveyed the room, his eyes taking in the round wooden tables, the booths against the edges of the room, the trendy chalkboard that spanned one wall that would list the specials, the lights hanging over the booths, the black stools that surrounded the bar.

  If I closed my eyes, I could hear the chatter of patrons. Plates sliding against the counter, the sizzling of the frying pan in the background, the business of a once-well-established restaurant.

  I watched Ryan pace the floor, holding my breath the whole time. I couldn’t remember a time when I had wanted a win so badly, more so I wouldn’t be a disappointment to my father than a letdown to my ego.

  After what seemed like forever, Ryan turned my way. “It has character. And just the right size to fill the terrorist scene.”

  “Terrorist scene?” I dimmed the excitement on my face because it wouldn’t be professional to go all starstruck gaga right now.

  Jordan grinned. “Yes. Terrorists are holding the patrons at this restaurant hostage. Guess who’s going to save the day?” He pounded his chest with one hand. “This guy.”

  I laughed, but really, this was insane. In a few days, this town and my restaurant would be bustling with A-listers. I couldn’t help how my stomach fluttered with excitement.

  “Jordan and Kay are working for Interpol and entering this restaurant as spies, knowing the owner is involved in smuggling illegal drugs into the United States.” Ryan ran his finger against one of the tables.

  “Kay Sterling?” I bit my lip to prevent my overly cheesy smile from escaping.

  Ryan spun around on his heels. He formed a square with his hands, squinting his eyes, envisioning the terrorist scene most likely. “Yes, the same Oscar-winning Kay.”

  I blinked, and this time, I couldn’t hide the smile from my face. Kay was stunning and beautiful, and one of the actresses Nana and I loved watching on the big screen. We just knew that every movie she starred in would be a good one.

  “That is pretty cool.” Cool? My twenty-six-year-old self had said cool, which was crazy not cool. I flattened my hands against my skirt and cleared my throat, trying to sound more mature. “Your presence in this town will benefit us greatly.”

  He turned to me, and with a tip of his chin and a small smile, he said, “I’ll have my lawyers review the papers you gave me and send over a check. We want to be in here before the end of the week, so we need to keep everything moving.”

  Cha-ching.

  I wanted to jump for joy, scream for Santa. I couldn’t believe this was happening. After months and months of searching for a renter and failing my father, again and again, I was getting this place rented.

  “It’s a pretty standard contract,” I said, my tone even. For never having rented out our spaces for film, my real estate lawyer had to draw up a new contract. I’d read it over last night. It had the customary language and stipulations included.

  The sooner they filmed and finished, the sooner I could advertise this place and get a permanent tenant in this spot. I had no doubt it could be rented for top dollar after the filming.

  I needed to check this one off the list and move on to bigger and better things for Armstrong Realty.

  “All right, I have to get the ball rolling. Christene …” Ryan tipped his head and placed a hand on his chest. “… it was a pleasure.” He stayed rooted in his spot and didn’t bother to shake my hand as though he were afraid to touch me, and I wondered if Jordan had said something to him in the car.

  I smiled. “My pleasure, and thanks again.”

  “Tene, do think you can drop me off at my hotel?” Jordan turned my way. “Ryan is flying out to LA tonight, and I’m a little tired.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. Did he say something to Ryan?

  “Sure.”

  Who knew that the A-list actor had a jealous streak in him? On other men, it would be a damning quality, but on Jordan Ryder? It was quite sexy.

  With one last salute, Ryan was out the door.

  Jordan stepped closer, just a few feet away, and my breathing hitched.

  “So, where did it happen?”

  “What?” I shifted in my spot and pulled at the edge of my suit jacket. I knew what he was talking about, but I didn’t want to address his question.

  The logistics of how Mr. Wells had been murdered had been plastered all over the papers, and the case had played out on the news.

  “The murder.”

  He inched closer, and just the sight of him had my mouth watering and my mind going blank. If he was a stranger and wasn’t my sister’s boyfriend’s brother—and if he wasn’t so hell-bent on staying on the no-sex side of the fence—I’d be making a play to make a movie of our own—the X-rated kind.

  “Where did it happen?” he asked again, his cocky grin telling me he knew how he was affecting me.

  “In the kitchen, in the back. It’s been renovated since then.” I took two conscious steps away from him, trying to collect myself and get air in my lungs.

  “Take me on a tour, pretty girl.” His sexy smirk was on display, the one that sported his cute chin dimple. His face had
been sculpted from the gods, and just to make him stick out, they’d added a dimple for good measure. It was so unfair.

  Tour? “Okay.” My tone was without its usual steady confidence.

  I turned to lead him in that direction, but he stepped into me, and my breath caught.

  Mental slap, slap, slap.

  What was wrong with me? I had never been that teenage girl, the one with a crush. I had skipped those awkward years altogether—never nervous, always confident in my own skin—until now. What the hell?

  “I’ll stay really close in case you’re scared.” Jordan’s voice deepened into a macho man bass tone, and his hand suavely caressed my hip.

  I sidestepped him, needing some semblance of control. “I can handle myself,” I said, walking toward the kitchen.

  I didn’t know what his game was. His flirting unnerved me and threw me off-kilter.

  As we stepped into the kitchen, that same eerie feeling I always got swept over me. My back snapped to attention, and I flipped on the switch, turning on all the lights. A chill came over me once I proceeded farther in. I didn’t believe in ghosts. The fact that someone had been murdered in this room, however, did fill me with a little unease. Not enough to keep me from buying the place. I’d had this place cleaned and stripped and renovated. It was in a killer—no pun intended—location.

  “What’s the story?” Jordan’s flirty demeanor dimmed as he walked around the kitchen, hands stuffed in his pockets as though he didn’t want to touch anything like he was in a crime scene.

  “Love story gone wrong. When the wife found out he was cheating, she went into a fit of rage and cut him up into pieces. Tortured him.” I shivered. “It was her best friend, a partner who had equity in this restaurant.”

  “What happened to the mistress?” Jordan moved to the center table and grimaced, probably imagining the night it had all gone down.

  “Nothing, really. She testified against the wife. But there was no question who had done it. The wife’s DNA was everywhere—on his clothing, on his body …” I shuddered at the thought. “It wasn’t premeditated.”

  I knew he’d been killed in the kitchen. My imagination was vivid enough to picture it—the blood, the gore, the pain.

  I wrapped my hands around my arms and rubbed them to dim the chill within me. “It’s cold in here. I swear the air isn’t even on.”

  He smirked, the flirting back in play. “Is this your ploy to get me to come over? ‘Cause, baby … all you have to do is ask.”

  “Please.” My tone oozed with sarcasm, but Jordan took it as an invitation to come toward me.

  “Begging is not necessary.” He backed me against the wall, his arms over my head, and I gasped.

  “What are you doing?” I peered up at him, my strong knees feeling weak. Sudden dizziness took over at his closeness.

  “You did say please.” The playful seductiveness was back in his tone.

  And when I stared up into the endless sea of electric blue, I lost my ability to think, to utter my next words.

  I pushed at his hard, overworked chest, chuckling. “I meant, ‘yeah, right—please’ or ‘please; don’t flatter yourself.’”

  “Sure.” His hands dropped to my sides, sliding up and down my arms to warm me. “Feel better?”

  Goose bumps prickled my skin, but they weren’t caused by the cool air around me.

  I laughed to cover up my nerves. “Sure,” I said, mimicking his word. I was that breathless teenage girl again with a crush, and I hated it. My breathing slowed at his proximity, and beads of sweat formed on the back of my neck. “Wh-what are you doing, Jordan?”

  He angled toward me and ran his thumb along my bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not an answer,” I breathed out, dazed and confused and mesmerized by his stare.

  His lustful blue eyes locked with mine, but something in his expression made me wonder if he was thinking deeply, contemplating something more.

  “I like you,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, a tender brush against my skin.

  Goose bumps spread down my neck, and my heart staggered to a stop.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “I don’t.” His eyes never left mine, indecision reigning.

  My mind was like mush. The way my body reacted to him was undeniable, but the way my heart reacted was unprecedented.

  Losing control again, Tene. Get it together.

  His lips brushed against my cheek, moving closer to my mouth.

  “Jordan, I’m asking you again.” My hands gripped his sides. I wanted to push him away, but I was unable to. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting as close as I can get without going too far.”

  “How is this making it any better? Do you like walking around with a case of blue balls every time you see me?”

  His warm chuckle vibrated against the tender part of my neck. “No. It’s physical torture, being this close to you and not being able to do the things I want to.”

  I angled my lips toward his. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.”

  Suddenly, the air-conditioning blasted on in the background, and I jumped, grabbing his biceps and pulling him closer. My nerves were shot around this man and not because of the eerie feeling in this restaurant.

  “Don’t be scared. No ghosts are going to hurt you.” He playfully wiggled his eyebrows and offered a bemused smile.

  My goodness, he smelled so darn good. It must be his aftershave. The masculine scent filled my nose, and I wanted to swallow it up, bottle it for tomorrow, and sell it on the black market.

  “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. The only person you need protecting from is me.” He sucked in his bottom lip, which had to be the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. It took all my energy not to take a bite myself.

  As I peered into his blue irises again, I decided, this is it. I was done pretending I didn’t want him. I’d never not want him. Then, I figured out the solution to my problem.

  I needed him out of my system. Avoidance wasn’t the answer.

  Why didn’t I think of this sooner? I needed to sleep with him to gain my sense of normalcy back. Scratch the itch. Then, this teenage infatuation would be flushed out of my system, and I’d have my life back. There wouldn’t be any complications because no one else would know. No one had to find out.

  Decision made.

  I fisted his shirt and crashed my lips against his. His eyes widened as he was surprised at the contact. I thought he was going to back away, but he molded himself against me and gave in to this kiss—our kiss. It was exquisite, an unleashing of pure, uninhibited passion. He tasted like mint and cigarettes and all alpha male, and I couldn’t get enough. I never wanted it to stop.

  My fingers threaded through his hair, and his hands gripped my hips, pushing into me. His lips released a thousand fires inside of me, and flames of heat coursed down my neck to further forbidden parts.

  Pure sexual attraction was unleashed and poured into our lips, mashing against each other. He took control, just how I liked it, just how I craved.

  His lips progressed into a slow dance. He sucked on my bottom lip, teasing it between his teeth before moving to my upper lip. Tease, lick, nip, and suck. The gentle, sensual rhythm of our lips increased the temperature in the room, the heat in my body boiling the blood in my veins. I pushed my breasts against his chest and moaned into his mouth.

  When I tried to change the kiss into a clashing of teeth and a tangling of tongues, he slowed and dropped his lips to my neck, kissing a steamy path down to my collarbone. I was held captive, but it only increased my want, my need, my lust for him.

  He was driving me insane.

  Absolutely insane.

  I wrapped my fingers around his neck, grinding against him. He gave in to the power of my lips again and opened his mouth. I was rewarded with his slick, soft tongue against mine. I knew I’d let him take me here, clothes off, passion high. But I also knew he wouldn’t do it. Hi
s hold, his posture, his restraint were like chains around his crown jewels.

  He wanted me, but he was holding back. I could sense it in the way he wasn’t letting go and giving in to our kiss fully.

  Abruptly, my phone rang in my purse on the counter, but I didn’t care. I only cared that Jordan Ryder did not stop kissing me.

  “Are you going to get that?” His lips dropped to my neck, sucking, tasting, teasing.

  My panties were a foregone conclusion, wet and lacy—and if I had my choice, tossed across the room.

  “No,” I groaned. “I’m sure it’s not important. I want you,” I breathed, sounding pathetic and unlike myself. I’d never waited this long to get what I wanted. It was agony, my insides on the verge of combusting from sexual frustration. “Jordan …” I moaned as he rubbed me in all the right places.

  My hands flew to the buckle of his jeans. He grabbed one to stop me and rested his head against mine, eyes closed, his chest heaving.

  “Tene … we can’t.”

  “Why not? He doesn’t even have to know.” Desperation overrode any reason. All I knew was I wanted him, and I knew we’d be explosive together if we did this.

  “He’ll know. He’s my brother, and he’ll know.” His self-restraint was shot, his eyes heavy-lidded, but his mind was stronger than his body. His hands dragged down from my shoulders to my arms as he put some distance between us.

  I pulled away, the rejection like a splash of cold water to my face.

  He reached for my waist, but I shoved at his chest.

  “Tene, don’t.” He scrubbed a heavy hand down his face and released a long sigh.

  “You’re such a tease.” My expression pinched, and my hands clenched into fists. “That’s like someone going down on me, getting me this close to orgasm, and then stopping to jam a bowling ball up my vagina.” I threw my hands up. “What was the point of that? You can’t start cooking a raw chicken and stop midway.”

  “I’m sorry.” He pulled me closer and placed one hand on my hip. “I’m sorry because … I couldn’t resist.” He wrapped both hands around my waist, bringing me closer. “Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself in the mirror?”