Chapter One Jordan
Chapter One
Jordan
My eyes opened several minutes before my alarm went off, the quietness of Boston outside the windows and the darkness of the early-morning sky reiterating today’s only goal: to dominate this fucking city.
As chief marketing officer of Worthington Enterprises, that was my job.
As a thirty-three-year-old bachelor who had been chasing pussy since high school like I’d once skated after the puck, dominating Boston both sexually and financially was my agenda.
Something I couldn’t accomplish if I kept lying in this bed.
I went into my en suite, where I took off my glasses to splash water on my face, brushed my teeth, and put in my contacts before heading for my walk-in closet.
I was a man of routine. Of strict discipline.
I believed in challenging my mind and pushing my body to its limits, so I started almost every day with a run.
I dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, pulled up my socks and tied my laces, and stretched my arms as I went into the kitchen.
An entire cabinet was dedicated to vitamins and supplements.
I picked the usual suspects and collected the pills in my palm, washing them down with electrolytes.
I’d begun skating when I was only six, then went straight into youth hockey until high school, where I played varsity all four years, followed by a full scholarship to Boston College, getting drafted my senior year, and spending the next nine years in the NHL.
I needed all the support I could get to keep this body in the best shape possible, and this cocktail I’d washed down certainly helped.
Five miles was the regimen.
When my body wanted to quit after four and my mind started to scream that I needed to be at work, I’d keep going.
The best part of that entire five-mile distance?
Her.
For the last two weeks, like clockwork she appeared around the half-mile mark. She would turn off the cross street and meet me at the intersection. I’d stay behind her for the next four and a half miles until I neared my building, and we’d part ways.
I didn’t lag because her pace was faster than mine. Shit, that wasn’t the case at all. I positioned myself that way so I could stare at her perfect ass for the majority of my run.
The first couple of times I saw her, we connected eyes. That was all she gave me before she moved ahead and stayed there until I veered off. By the third meetup, I earned myself a smile.
It was gorgeous.
Which only made sense, because she was breathtaking.
Brown oval-shaped eyes and coffee-colored hair that she wore in a high ponytail, a small button-like nose and thick lips.
A set of tits that weren’t any bigger than a B, the bounce in them telling me they were real.
She had a flat stomach and just the right amount of curve, which ended in deliciously muscular legs.
I didn’t know her name, where she lived, or, surprisingly, how loud she could moan, given how many women I’d slept with in this city.
But I knew her body—which was only ever covered in a pair of spandex shorts and a sports bra—from the amount of time I’d spent staring at it.
After the first week, she progressed to a “Good morning,” combined with her smile, and today, in just a few more blocks, I would be getting that greeting again. At least, I assumed I would. She hadn’t missed a day yet—not even on the weekends.
I rounded the corner, and as I came to the cross street, I glanced down the sidewalk.
Fuck, there she was: the best part of my day.
Skintight shorts that cut off mid-thigh and a sports bra that showed off the hardness of her nipples, in a color I hadn’t seen on her before.
All white.
And if I’d thought the other colors looked good on her, they didn’t compare to this.
This was exceptional.
This was making my fucking dick hard.
I quickly adjusted my hard-on, and as we got closer to the crosswalk, I got that smile out of her and a “Good morning,” and she moved a few lengths ahead, passing through the empty intersection.
I hung back as usual to take in the view.
The white material hugged her heart-shaped ass, outlining her cheeks in a way that showed me every dip, every arch, every tuck.
I couldn’t run with this goddamn beast throbbing in my shorts, but I wasn’t giving up this sight for anything. Without her eyes on me, I could slide my crown under the waist of my boxer briefs to keep it in place; I just had to deal with the wanting.
And there was far too much of that.
Every time my feet hit the pavement, the desire to have her sit on my face and squeeze her ass increased.
But my fantasies didn’t end there. They went on for miles as I dreamed about all the ways I would fuck her, how I would make that body come, how I would get her to scream my name so loud, her voice would turn hoarse.
If my older brother, Gavin, were here, or one of my friends, they’d ask why, after two weeks, I hadn’t yet made a move or at least gotten her name.
A valid question, for sure.
The only answer I could come up with was that this had been one hell of a chase so far, and I loved every second of it.
Except the part I was seeing right now.
There was a biker up ahead on the cross street, and instead of riding in the bike lane, he was on the sidewalk.
At this hour, he probably hadn’t anticipated too many people would be out.
But he was about fifteen yards from the end of the block, and with how fast he was pedaling and how quickly she was running, they were going to T-bone.
I knew she didn’t see him; she wasn’t slowing.
And I knew he was assuming she would, because he hadn’t dropped his speed.
Motherfucker.
I lengthened my stride, pushing against the asphalt to close the distance between us, and when I reached her side, seeing her earbud, I was positive that no matter what I said, she wouldn’t hear me.
I didn’t waste time talking or attempting to; I just wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her, making sure to stay on my feet and not let our momentum topple us over.
Hockey had changed my life in many ways, but this morning, I was fortunate for all my years of training and the ability to pick up someone as weightless as her while maintaining this rate of motion.
She gasped. “What the hell?” She pushed against my chest, and since I was holding her from the side, I turned her toward me in my arms. Once our eyes locked and she realized who was holding her, how close our faces were, she uttered, “What are you doing?” She took out both earbuds.
“Saving you.” I gripped her with only one arm and pointed toward the biker, who had already passed. “From him.”
Her lips separated as she stared at his back. “My God. I didn’t even see him.”
“I know.”
“You . . .” She put her empty hand on my chest. “You . . .” she repeated, but in an entirely different, lighter voice. “I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m Jordan.”
I didn’t want to set her down. I liked how she felt in my arms and against my chest, and how there was something so achingly sexy about her sweat mixing with mine.
Her hand lifted to my shoulder. “Maya.”
“Maya.” I wanted to see how the letters would feel against my tongue. If they’d rumble through my throat the same way they were tingling through my dick.
“Jordan, if that biker hit me, I could have died.” She focused on my left eye and then my right, her chest heaving with breath. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
I could think of plenty of ways, starting with her lips, which looked even more beautiful this close. I wanted to feel them wrapped around my tip, sucking the end of me like a fucking vacuum.
“You can say yes.”
Her brows rose. “To what?”
“A next time.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“That this won’t be the one and only time I talk to you.”
She laughed and wiggled out of my arms.
Her feet didn’t land on the ground on their own; they landed because I set her down.
“You save my life and ask me out and then expect me to say yes.” She crossed her arms. “I just want to make sure I understand you correctly.”
I shifted my weight, looking down at this petite spitfire who was more gorgeous the longer I stared at her.
“A date would be asking you to shower and put on more clothes and have dinner and wine. I’m not asking for that at all.
I prefer you just like this and”—I nodded toward her navel—“wearing that.”
“I don’t drink wine.” She smiled.
“And I don’t date.”
I just fucked.
But I didn’t need to get into that.
“Sounds like I’m not understanding you at all, then,” she said. “You just want to . . . talk?”
“How about a little more than a ‘good morning’ during tomorrow’s run? I’d say I earned that after playing hero.” I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip at the thought of that conversation.
“That’s it?”
I nodded.
She glanced toward the sidewalk ahead, our normal path, where we would be headed to finish our run. “I think I can probably do that.” A smirk joined her lips.
“I promise: After, I won’t ask you out for wine.”
“Good, because I won’t agree to any dates.”
That mouth.
I was enjoying it more by the second.
I reached my hand toward hers. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Maya.”
She gazed at my fingers for a moment before she shook my hand.
As soon as our skin touched, my lungs brought in as much air as they could hold, my chest tightening as I felt it.
The burst.
The feeling started in my palm and went all the way through me.
What made it worse was her grin.
“Oh, Jordan, so do you.”