Chapter 11 #2
"Don’t remind me." He groans, head falling back. "I almost had a stroke that night."
"I've never seen you so angry. You immediately sent me back home. That's not predatory. That's honorable." I roll my hips again, and his fingers tighten on my hips.
"Fuck—Sabrina, stop—" But his hips buck up involuntarily, contradicting his words.
"Why?" I grind down against him. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong," he grits out, "is that we're in a parking lot—"
"It's dark."
"Someone could still see—Christ!" His breath hitches when I start rolling my hips in slow circles.
"I need you," I whisper, leaning in to bite his earlobe. "I need you inside me. Need to feel you lose control. Please, Jordan."
His hand comes up to tangle in my hair, yanking my head back so he can look at me. His eyes are wild. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"
"Show me," I challenge.
For one desperate, electric moment, I see him cave. His grip tightens in my hair and his other hand slides up under my skirt to grip my ass. He pulls me down hard against him at the same time he surges up. The friction is so perfect, I want to sob.
"I'm so wet for you," I whisper. "You could sink me right now and I swear I'll take every inch and beg for more."
"Sabrina!" he gasps.
I reach between us, fumbling with his belt. "You have a condom, right?"
"Yes, but..." He catches both my wrists. "Not here. Not like this."
"Why not?" I'm almost crying now, desperate and aching and so empty it hurts. What's worse, I can feel how much he wants me in the way his hands are shaking on my ass. "Jordan, please—"
"Someone could see us," he whispers roughly. "And I love you too much to risk your reputation for fifteen minutes in a car."
I drop my head on his shoulder in frustration even as something warm and pleasant blooms in my chest.
His hand leaves my ass to curl around my nape, fingers fisting into my hair. Then he lifts my head to meet his gaze. In a wrecked voice, he commands. "Get off me, baby."
For a long moment, we just stare at each other, both of us breathing hard, both of us shaking with need.
Slowly, I climb off his lap and settle back in my seat. The loss of contact feels so wrong I want to scream. Instead, I cross my legs, trying to chase the ache between them.
Jordan sits there for a moment, both hands gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white. "I'm gonna need a minute," he rasps.
"Okay."
But a minute passes, then another, and he's still sitting there.
"Jordan?"
"Don't—" He adjusts himself in his pants. "For fuck sake stop clenching your thighs."
Sorry." I bite my lip, watching as he struggles for control. Finally, without a word, he opens the car door and steps out into the night.
He walks a few steps away, then tilts his head toward the stars, shoulders heaving.
When he finally gets back in the car, he doesn't look at me or speak. He just starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot.
The drive home is silent, but not awkward. I miss his hand on my thigh but feel his love in everything he's not saying. Every touch he's denying himself.
At a stoplight, his hand twitches toward me, then stops and clenches into a fist.
I did this to him. Wound him up, pushed him to the edge, and now he's suffering because he loves me too much to give in.
And God help me, I want him more because of it, need seeping out of my pores. How am I supposed to survive tonight without him? I'm going to have to sleep alone, empty, aching, while he drives back to his house to do the same.
It's torture.
When he pulls up a block outside my house, he finally looks at me. His eyes are dark and haunted. "What time is dinner tomorrow, baby?"
"Six thirty," I whisper.
"I'll be there. Goodnight, Sabrina."
I lean over and drop a kiss on his jaw. "I had a good time. Goodnight, Jordan. "
He closes his eyes like it hurts.
I get out of the car and walk to my house on shaking legs, feeling his eyes on me the whole way.
The moment I step inside my room and turn on the light, my phone buzzes.
Jordan: I'm sorry.
Me: For what?
Jordan: For not giving you what you wanted. What we both wanted.
Me: It's fine. You can ruin my reputation anytime you like in Houston. No one would know me there.
My phone rings immediately. "Sabrina, what are you saying?"
Yes. I'll move in with you.
He's silent for a beat. "Baby…"
"I love you Jordan Farrington."
He groans. "How the fuck am I supposed to survive tonight without crawling through your window to make you scream that?"
I chuckle. "I don't know, Jordan. Maybe you're not meant to survive it. Maybe you're meant to do exactly that, so you can meet my father while you're making me come."
"Okay. That's it. I'm hanging up right fucking now."
"Geez, calm down," I say, grinning. "I only said I love you."
He's silent for a moment, and then, "Fuck school night. Tomorrow, you're sleeping with me."
My stomach clenches, heat pooling low. "Fuck yes!"
"Language, ma'am!"
"Don't you fucking start, Jordan Farrington."
His deep chuckle sends ripples down my spine. "Goodnight, Sabrina."
"I love you."
He makes a pained sound, like it's physically hurting him not to say more, not to get out of his car and sneak through my window. He waits for me to hang up first. Always the gentleman, even when he's barely holding on.
I end the call and stare at my phone for a long moment before setting it down. Then I climb into bed, pulling the covers up, but sleep feels impossible.
Everything changed tonight.
Graduation. Houston. Yale. Moving in with him.
Four months ago, I was just Sabrina Wells—a girl who worked at Pizza Fiesta, a girl who took photos for the yearbook, a girl whose biggest dream was maybe Nevada State College and maybe a job at a real gallery someday.
Now I'm the girl who's moving to Texas with a man I'm desperately in love with. The girl who said yes to living with someone before she's even finished high school. The girl who's actually considering Yale—Yale—like that's something girls like me get to do.
I'm terrified. But also excited for our life in Houston. I imagine busy days with stolen kisses over breakfast. Late-night conversations about everything and nothing. Lazy weekend mornings in bed. Him protecting me, every time.
And so, I'll dare to choose a future that's bigger and scarier than anything I ever let myself imagine.