Chapter Fifteen Jordan
Chapter Fifteen
Jordan
“She won’t fucking talk to me.” I gripped the frame around Gavin’s office door, squeezing it so tight, I expected the wood to rip off.
He looked up from his computer and crossed his hands in front of his keyboard. “You told her?”
“No.”
“Then how did you fuck this up?”
I walked inside, slammed the door behind me, and took a seat in front of his desk. “She found out on her own.”
“Oh shit.” He leaned back in his chair and tucked his palms behind his head. “This is about to get interesting. Go on.”
“She was at the game.”
His mouth dropped open. “You’re shitting me.”
“And she saw us walk out onto the ice. I’m assuming at that point, she googled my name, and you can guess the rest.”
“Did she text you from the game? Call you? Stop by your penthouse so she could tell you in person?” The motherfucker had the balls to smile.
I slid both hands into the sides of my hair, pulling at the strands. “She waited until this morning, when I met her for a run, and dropped the bomb in the middle of the sidewalk. She said a few things to me and took off. I’ve been texting her all morning and she won’t respond.”
“Did you apologize?”
“Yeah.”
Gavin’s brows rose. “You did?”
“Yeah, asshole, I did.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I said a few other things that you’d be proud of too.”
“Like?”
“Telling her I liked her.”
“Damn.”
“And that I’d offered her more than I’d ever offered anyone else.”
He squeezed his tongue between his lips. “Aren’t you just so charming with words.”
I moved my arms out in front of me and held the end of the desk, looking him square in the eye. “I’ve never said that to a single soul besides her. That’s a big fucking deal, Gavin.”
“But it sounds like it wasn’t enough and that your chance with her may be gone. Because you didn’t tell her when I told you to, which made everything turn to hell.”
“Are you seriously going to sit on the other side of this desk and scold me?”
“What else would you like me to do? Tell you to go chase her when it sounds like she doesn’t want to be chased?”
“Gavin . . .” I pulled out my phone and checked the screen, scrolling through the notifications to see if there were any from her. When I saw there weren’t, I barked, “Tell me what to do.”
“Now you want my advice?”
“Do you want me to grovel? Is that what you’re asking for?” I sighed so loud, my chest vibrated. “You were right. There. Happy? Now, tell me what the fuck to do!”
His hands left the back of his head, and he dropped his arms onto the desk.
“You need to explain to her that you fucked up and you’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.
She doesn’t want you to prove her wrong, Jordan.
If she’s calling you a liar, don’t fight with her.
Agree with her. But explain yourself and why you were afraid to tell her who you are. ”
“I told her I wanted to tell her.”
He shook his head. “Do you think that makes the situation better?”
“And that I didn’t because of the comments she made about rich people.”
“Brother, that didn’t help your case at all.” He leaned forward. “But don’t you think your reasoning goes deeper than what you told her?”
“Yes.”
He stared without blinking. “How deep?”
“For the first time in my life, a woman was looking at me and seeing me for who I am, not what I’ve accomplished and how much money I have.”
“You enjoyed that.”
I huffed out a mouthful of air. “I couldn’t get enough of it.” I glanced down at my phone and saw that the screen showed new notifications. Not a single one was from her. “How far do I take this, Gavin? If she won’t respond to me . . .”
“Do you want her?”
I nodded.
“Jordan, do you really want her?”
“Yes.”
He looked at his hands, his thumbs circling each other, and when he gazed up again, the seriousness in his expression had grown. “Tell me this goes beyond want. That you see yourself with her. That you see a real future with her.”
When I exhaled, I pushed the air out so hard, my nostrils flared, and even though I was clinging to the armrests, I wanted those hands to be on her. “I do.”
“Then take it as far as you need to.”
Me: Talk to me, Maya.
Me: Let’s meet.
Me: Please.
Me: I have so much I want to say to you.
Me: Just give me 10 minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.
Maya: I need time.
Me: How much time?
Me: I get that you’re upset. But why aren’t you even giving me a chance to explain myself? Don’t you want to hear my why?
When I approached the intersection the next morning, I knew she wasn’t going to be there. That was even after I waited ten minutes in case she had a slower pace or a late start. I was leaving room for hope when there wasn’t any.
Maya wasn’t coming.
And I didn’t fucking get it.
Sure, she could be torn up about what had gone down, but was money the reason for all this? Was I really the deceitful liar she’d made me out to be? Had I committed an unforgivable act by not giving her my last name and my history with hockey and what I now did for a living?
I just couldn’t believe that her distaste for the rich was so profound that she’d put me in that category regardless of how she felt about me.
Which made me feel that something else was going on.
Something I didn’t know about.
Something she wasn’t telling me.
I stormed back into my condo, dripping with sweat, my clothes sticking to me.
I peeled off my T-shirt and left it on the foyer floor, dropped my shorts and boxer briefs as I walked into the kitchen, and kicked off my sneakers and socks while I pounded a bottle of water.
I crinkled the plastic in my hand when it was all gone and attempted to breathe through the anger.
I didn’t fucking understand.
I didn’t know why this was happening.
I couldn’t tolerate how out of my control this was.
I wanted her, and she wasn’t there this morning.
I wanted to hear her voice, and she wouldn’t give it to me.
I wanted to kiss her lips, and she wouldn’t even respond to my texts.
I threw the flattened plastic into the sink, using so much force that it bounced out and hit the counter.
I left it there and headed to my bathroom, turning the water to the setting I knew would scald my skin, and I stepped beneath the spray.
My arms stretched up, palms pressed against the marble wall while the water hit my back.
I could feel my skin turning red, the burn setting in.
But I didn’t move.
I stayed right there, waiting for an answer, for clarity, for a reason why I’d finally reached this place in my life, in my head, and in my heart where I wanted more—and now this had happened.
Why?
How the fuck could I fix this?
How would I get her back?
As the water massaged my muscles, my brain didn’t empty. It only got busier as the thoughts thrashed through me. And it got fuller, the emotions thickening, the fear that I was never going to get her back increasing.
Therefore, there was no explanation for why my dick was so hard.
Why it was fucking throbbing.
Why the heat of the water wasn’t causing my hard-on to die rather than rage on.
I squirted some soap into my hand and rubbed my palm over my chest and down my abs and stopped at the base of my shaft, squeezing the bottom, taunting the tip as a whole new set of thoughts came in.
What if I never thrust into her pussy again?
What if that was the last time I would ever feel its tightness? Or the wetness after I got done licking it? Or the way it pulsed around me as she was coming?
Because that feeling of her, the way her cunt took me, her walls narrowing around my width, was something I wanted.
Something I needed.
Something I’d never be able to replace.
My hand began to rise toward my crown, circling the top so my palm slid across it before it dropped to the bottom.
There wasn’t any kindness in my grip. No softness like when her fingers caressed me.
No gentleness as I lifted, pumping my length, pounding it so hard that only grunts came through my lips.
I didn’t need to imagine her body. Her pussy. Her mouth.
Because she was all I could see.
All I could think about.
All I could feel as my hand picked up speed.
I was trying to fuck the anger and fear out of me.
But the only thing happening was an orgasm.
One that came bolting through my body, churning in my balls, shooting through my dick and straight out my tip. “Maya!” Her name was already there; it just had to be shouted. And as the tingles peaked, I yelled again, “Maya!”
I stroked harder.
I even firmed up my fingers to beat the cum out of me.
And—“Fuuuck . . .”—I came.
A thick white stream arched through the air and landed on top of the drain. I kept up the pace, drawing out another load, and a third, before my hand stilled.
I swallowed and caught my breath, and I released my dick, my fingers joining the others that were still pushing against the wall.
As I stood there, panting, I realized the only thing I’d just accomplished was emptying myself.
Because as far as Maya was concerned, not a goddamn thing had changed.