Chapter Twenty-One Jordan
Chapter Twenty-One
Jordan
That’s all you’re making me promise? Because, Maya, my words can be as powerful as my hands. You know that.
I fucking loved reminding her of that and watching the recognition cause her cheeks to flush.
For her to attempt to take another drink of her beer only to realize it was empty when the bottle hit her lips.
For her to push all her weight into the wall beside her, leaning her back against it as though her knees no longer wanted to support her.
Her body, I owned.
I knew that.
I saw that.
But her heart needed work.
That was why I was here.
“I’m making you promise to keep your hands and your words to yourself,” Maya finally replied.
Emily laughed.
But I didn’t. I continued to stare at Maya, assessing where her head was at. “You’re asking me to be silent?”
“I’m asking you to be appropriate.”
Since we both knew how easy it was to make her wet, she didn’t want me to use my words as foreplay. But goddamn it, I loved to. “I can try,” I offered.
“‘Try’?” Her brows rose.
“Listen, I can’t prevent you from taking things the wrong way. If you flip my words into something dirty, that’s on you.”
“Fair,” she responded.
“Now, can I feed you?”
“Jesus,” Emily groaned. “Even that was hot.”
I finally laughed, holding the bag of food higher in the air. “With this.”
“Follow me.” Maya backed away from the door and walked through her apartment.
“Good luck,” Emily whispered.
I nodded at her and followed Maya inside. My eyes stayed on her ass and the way her leggings hugged those perfect fucking cheeks, the slimness of her waist, and how her tank top showed off the muscles in her arms and shoulders.
A body I didn’t just own, but was obsessed with.
I turned at the living room to go down the short hallway and through the second-to-last door on the right.
As she shut the door behind me, I took in the tiny room.
It was just large enough for a double bed, a dresser that was half the size of most, a narrow shelving unit, and a vanity with a miniature stool in front of it that I didn’t think could even hold me.
The walls were painted a deep green, the accents in gold.
The artwork was minimal, the pictures were of her and Emily, and I assumed the others were of her mother.
There were nursing books and psychological thrillers on the shelves and a vase of fresh flowers by her bed.
What I liked most was that the space felt like her. Balanced and comforting, a spot that would relax you the second you stepped inside. And the smell, fuck . . . Every one of my breaths was filled with green apple and lime.
“I hope you don’t mind eating on my bed.” She sat by the pillows, leaving the middle and end of the mattress for me.
“Not at all.”
I placed the six-pack in front of her along with the to-go bag, and while I opened two beers for us, she dug into the food, taking each of the items out.
“Thai,” she moaned. “One of my favorites.”
“Mine too.”
“Looks like you got all the staples—fresh spring rolls, pad Thai, green curry, pad see ew, and papaya salad.” She carefully set the plastic soup container and ladle on her nightstand. “Tom yum, I’m assuming?”
“Yes.” I waited for her to pull out the last dish and said, “And mango sticky rice for dessert.”
“When I say you got everything I love, I’m not kidding. One of these dishes I end up ordering every time I go for Thai.” She spread out the containers in front of us. “I cannot wait to devour this food.”
I laughed. “Don’t wait. Dig in.”
She handed me a set of chopsticks. “Let me grab some plates—”
“There’s no reason to be fancy. Besides, I think it tastes better when you eat it right out of the container.”
She stared at me for a moment before she popped a shrimp into her mouth.
“You know, you’re the last thing I expected tonight.
” She took the beer I held out to her. “I was going to sink into the couch and eat whatever Emily was getting delivered, since she never finishes her food, and eventually find my way into the bathtub to soak until the water turned cold.” She rubbed her leg as she chewed, her expression telling me she was in pain.
“Are you sore?”
She nodded.
“From what?” I waited, and when I didn’t get an answer, I said, “Running?”
Her chest lifted as she took a breath. After a few seconds, I expected it to fall. But it didn’t.
“Seems that you’re good at helping me hit my personal bests.”
My cheeks puffed out with air. “Damn. That’s a blow.”
“But it’s the truth.” Her voice was just above a whisper.
“I have a lot of thoughts about this, Maya.”
“I figured you would.”
I set down my chopsticks but not the beer. “The first is, I hate that you’re running without me—I understand why you are, but I don’t like it.”
She twirled some of the pad Thai noodles around her wooden sticks. “I can’t run with you, Jordan. I . . . can’t.”
A response that stabbed me in the fucking gut.
“And I hate that what’s happening between us is affecting you so much that it’s making you run the fastest you ever have.
” I gulped down half my beer. “And I hate that you’ve worked yourself so hard, you’ve made yourself ache.
” I tried holding it back, put every fucking bit of effort into it, but caved: “Because I want nothing more than to lie you across that bed and massage the hurt out of you.”
“Jordan—”
“I know. I promised. But I won’t take a word of it back. It’s how I feel. You need to know that.”
She was still. There wasn’t even anything in her mouth at this point.
But there was so much happening in her eyes.
She couldn’t hide the war inside them.
“We’re going to get past this, Maya.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I care about you. Because for the first time in my life, I’m enamored with a woman, and I want to be with her.” I went to reach for her thigh, and halfway there, my hand midair, I halted and pulled it back. “I’ll stop. I know you don’t want to talk about this.”
She lifted one of the fresh spring rolls and dipped it in peanut sauce. “You might be the worst promise keeper I’ve ever met.” She gave me a small smile.
I laughed. “I deserve that title.” I took several bites of the papaya salad. “Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yes, for the next three days straight.”
“And then?”
“Then”—she sighed—“I plan to not leave my bed until I have to go back to work two days later.”
“Maybe I can convince you to leave your bed and go out with me.”
“Out? With you?”
“Sounds like fucking torture, I know.”
“I don’t mean it that way, I just . . .”
“Need time.”
She took several breaths and looked down at her lap. “Jordan, to be honest, I don’t know what I need. My head is all over the place. And having you here isn’t helping.” She glanced up at me.
“My plan’s working, then.” I winked. “You’ll think about it?”
She gradually nodded. “I will.” After a few seconds, she gave me another smile and picked up a chunky carrot, nibbling on its wavy edge. “Why didn’t I know that you wear glasses?”
“I only wear them when I’m too lazy to put in my contacts or when my eyes are begging for a rest.”
She finished chewing and rubbed the pad of her finger over her lips. “You should wear them more often. They look incredible on you.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“It’s allowed.”
“If roles were reversed, you’d tell me I’m breaking my promise.”
Her shoulders sagged. “You’re right.”
“I don’t care. I’ll take the compliment.” I grinned.
She folded her legs in front of her and rested the dish of pad see ew on top of her knees, moaning as she took several mouthfuls. “You know, this is enough food for us, my roommates, and probably my next-door neighbors.”
“I want you to have leftovers. You can take it for lunch tomorrow. Just don’t let Bettie smell it. She loves Thai. That’s usually where we go when I take her out for lunch.”
“It seems you and Bettie are very close.”
I chomped on a piece of beef. “We are.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about her?”
“Please do.”
She set the container on the bed and held her beer with both hands. “She doesn’t carry the Worthington name, so I’m guessing she’s your mom’s mom?”
I nodded. “I could tell you things about that woman that would blow your mind. Unless you’ve already googled her.”
“I haven’t, I know nothing.” She picked at the label on the bottle. “But from the moment I met her, I’ve been fascinated. There’s something so intriguing about her.”
“Here’s a little Bettie history for you, then.
” I found a napkin in the bag and wiped my mouth.
“As soon as Bettie’s mother became pregnant with her, Bettie’s father left Poland and moved to America.
He worked as a tailor, and after a year of saving, he was able to bring his wife and Bettie to the States.
They lived in South Boston, which was much different back then, in a one-room efficiency above the shop.
” I rubbed my hand over my jeans. “Bettie would help out her dad, learning everything she could about fabric and clothing, textures and designs, determined to create a better life for her parents and siblings. So after graduating high school, she went to New York and got her degree in fashion.” I laughed at the humbleness in which my grandmother always told this story, despite there being books written about her.
“She worked for several different companies in Manhattan, but Boston was where her heart was, and she came back home and designed her own line of textiles that eventually was purchased and used by almost every major clothing designer in the world.” I smiled, shaking my head.
“One year before my grandfather died, Bettie sold her business for over five hundred million.”
Maya’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding me.”
“You’re right, she is fascinating. She taught my brother and me everything we know about business. She did the same with my father and mother too.”
“Wow.” She took a sip. “I’ve spent hours and hours with her, and I never would have expected any of this. She never mentioned a word about it and never gave off any vibes.”
“Rich vibes, you mean?” I knew the fucking stickiness of that topic, so rather than wait for a response, I said, “She’d be happy to hear you say that.”
She took another bite of the fresh spring roll. “Did your mom work for Bettie?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Bettie wouldn’t allow it.
She wanted her children to find their own passion, to work hard and create their own dreams. If those passions and dreams required a loan to get things started, Bettie provided, but the deal was that every cent must be paid back. She doesn’t believe in handouts.”
She finished the bite and said softly, “You’re telling me Bettie funded your father’s business, aren’t you?”
“My mother met my father when she was sixteen. They were married by twenty. This was a dream that my parents shared—the real estate, the sports teams, the entire Worthington empire.” I paused.
“Yes, Bettie funded that dream.” I paused again.
“And they paid back every dime they borrowed from her.” I let out a long breath.
“I know how you feel about my family, Maya. I know what they did to you and what it ultimately caused. But I want you to know that they’re good people.
Hardworking people. They care, they give back, they donate, they help others.
If they had any idea what their buyout caused or what that meant for you and your mom, they wouldn’t have allowed it. ”
“Jordan . . .”
“I understand how you feel. I would feel the same way. There’s no question, I’d have hate.
I’d have resentment. I’d have a hard time even looking at me because I’m one of them.
” I gently put my hand on her ankle. “But I want you to know who we are and what we stand for. That’s the person I want you to see when you look at me. ”
“I want to.” Her voice was barely there. “I really do.”
“To every other woman, I’ve been the NHL star.
The Worthington heir. A man with every fucking resource at my fingertips.
” I let out all the air I’d drawn in. “You didn’t see that because you didn’t know, and I can’t tell you how refreshing that was.
I wanted to soak in every second of it—even though I knew it was wrong.
” I pulled my fingers back, leaving her ankle free.
“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to respond to any of that.
I just wanted you to know. No, I needed you to know. ”
She pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. “I’m happy you told me.”