Chapter 30 #2
She brought her hand down to try to reach for him, but he paused and put her hand back up again.
“Do as you’re told, Montana, and I might eventually let you come.”
His words had her squeezing her legs together.
“Do it.”
“Do what?”
She rolled over, and he let her as they stared at one another as if connected on some other level.
“Fuck me. Please.”
“Are you begging?”
“Pretty please?”
The smile on his mouth was confident as he settled back between her legs and touched the tip of his tongue to her aching clit.
She opened her mouth in shocked surprise at how good that felt.
“God, yes. Pretty, pretty please.”
He licked her. Lightly played with her clit, with her nipples, tweaking just enough to keep her in a constant state of arousal but not enough to tip her over the edge into orgasm.
“I want you inside me.”
A funny light entered his gaze. “I want you to ask me properly.”
“Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough today?”
He stroked her G-spot, and she gasped.
“No, but I have.” His lips were back on her breast now, fingers playing so gently in the slippery folds of her sex that she’d never come without more, but it felt so good.
“Please, Jordan, I’m begging you.”
“Ask me to make love to you.”
What? Her heart banged against her ribs. What? She swallowed. “Make love to me, Jordan. Please.”
“I already am.”
She gasped as he bit just hard enough to ignite sensation, just short of pain, and his fingers plunged deep and hard as the heel of his hand stroked against the quivering bud of her clit, and she was catapulted over that edge like a boulder against a battlement.
She shattered into a thousand pieces and lay destroyed as he climbed to his feet, completely dressed. The only thing letting her know he was not unaffected was the erection tenting his pants.
He slid his hands gently under her and lifted her and carried her through to the tub, placing her gently in the warm water.
“Enjoy your soak.” He kissed her forehead and turned away.
“Don’t you want to...”
He paused. “Not until I prove it’s you I care about. Not the sex, not the fucking, not coming inside a willing body—any willing body. It’s you. I think I love you, Daisy Montana. And you’re going to have to figure out what to do about that because I’m not going anywhere.”
She stared up at him, shocked. But she’d heard words of love before, and they’d still left her with her heart torn to tatters. Bitterness reared up inside her.
“Now who’s the liar?”
It wasn’t easy having his words of love ignored, disbelieved even, but he also knew she was carrying a lifetime of baggage from abandonment issues thanks to a series of crappy boyfriends.
His reputation and decidedly poor track record with women didn’t help.
And, as he had a time-consuming and demanding job—exactly the same job her father had when her parents had split—it was going to be an uphill battle to convince her he was serious about her.
But he’d never said those words before. Not even as a teen when he’d had more than his fair share of girlfriends from high school in the Ukrainian Village, and further afield within the great metropolis of Chicago.
He’d come close to the feeling with a girl he’d met while posted in Texas once, but when he’d moved elsewhere the distance had proven it was only a fleeting attachment, a pale imitation of the emotions currently boiling inside him like a volcano about to erupt.
This didn’t feel like a fleeting attachment. This felt like a concrete vault around his nuclear reactor heart.
He did something he should have done some time ago. He texted Kurt.
I have something to tell you.
Is Daisy all right?
Yes, she’s fine.
Better than fine.
What do you want to tell me?
I’m dating your daughter. Like, for real dating.
Are you fucking with me???
No.
Pistols or swords?
Jordan almost laughed that Kurt would suggest a duel. Almost. He’d known the guy would be pissed.
She’s worth a bullet in the chest.
How about getting your balls cut off?
Ouch.
I love her.
I’m still going to kill you.
Do me a favor and wait until they’ve caught Bocharov? Then have at it.
That silenced the other man. Jordan tossed his phone on the side table and scrubbed his hands over his face rather than wait for the litany of reasons why he had no right to touch Daisy.
As much as he loved Kurt, and he loved him dearly, it didn’t matter what Kurt thought. Not anymore. It only mattered what Daisy thought.
Which wasn’t looking great if the expression on her face a few minutes ago was any indication. But he had a plan. And he was smart and dedicated, and he didn’t quit.
Not ever.
Maybe it would be enough.
There was no sign of Bocharov anywhere. He’d gone to ground. Amed Hussein was denying everything. The FBI had found the explosives and uncovered the plot outlined on a file on his computer and neutralized it as far as they could tell.
But until Bocharov was caught, Daisy was in danger. She either gave up her studies until they had the Russian in custody—dead would be preferable—and came to live in Quantico surrounded by people who’d protect her, or he gave up his job and spent the foreseeable future being her personal bodyguard.
He loved his job. Did not want to give it up. But he wouldn’t leave her unprotected. Not from a monster he’d helped create.
He heard the water swoosh and then the knock on the door that told him room service had arrived. He checked the peephole, although there was security on every floor. Opened the door and checked the cart thoroughly before he tipped the guy and took the cart inside the room.
He set up on the small table between two small chairs but left the warming domes on the plates. He opened the wine and let it breathe while he fetched a bathrobe for Daisy. He knocked on the bathroom door before entering. “Food’s here.”
“Good. Because suddenly I’m starving.” She rose to her feet and struck a pose.
He let himself look his fill, tried to inoculate himself against the effect she had on him, naked or otherwise, but definitely naked.
She stepped slowly out of the tub and he winced at all the marks of pain that littered her skin like flecks of paint.
She let him circle the robe over her shoulders as her hands roamed his chest and headed down. There was no doubt what his body wanted. She started to slide her hands down to cup his balls, and he bundled her up like a swaddled baby, carried her into the bedroom, and laid her on the bed.
Christ, she was gonna kill him, one way or another.
He flipped open the robe.
“Hands,” he demanded.
At first, she looked confused and then amused as she reached up to grab the edge of the mattress. She lay spread beneath him like the perfect fantasy.
“How long do you plan to keep this up?” She glanced at his crotch suggestively.
“I told you.”
She shook her head. “Until I believe you love me. Lover, there’s no way you can last that long without sex.”
He cocked his brow. A challenge. He thrived on challenge. “What do you care? You get your no-strings sex and can walk away whenever you want—assuming you can still walk that is—after a thousand amazing orgasms.”
Delight flickered in her eyes. “A thousand, amazing orgasms?”
“As many as you want.”
Her lips curved. Confident and wary all at once. “I like orgasms.”
“Then hold on, babe. It’s going to be a long night.”
Jordan dreamt of heat and flame.
After devouring their food, he’d made love to Daisy—without breaking his vow—for the third time. Afterwards, Daisy had curled up naked on the far edge of the bed and fallen fast asleep.
He’d cleared away the food, showered, and then gone to bed in a black T-shirt and tactical pants that felt completely appropriate.
Sleep was no more his friend than Bocharov, and he watched the man laugh as he lined up every member of his family and set them alight, one by blessed one. And they stood there, human torches, staring at him with doleful accusing gazes, rather than fighting the evil sonofabitch.
And then Bocharov reached the last person in the row, and it was Daisy. She stood there with her arms crossed and looking pissed as if waiting for him to save her. Jordan fought against his bindings, unable to move, unable to save her as Bocharov smiled his evil smile and lit the next match.
“Jordan!”
He felt himself being shaken awake from a heavy sleep, and there was Daisy, safe, alive, and still pissed. His heart thudded and sweat glazed his skin.
“Are you okay?” She smoothed a lock of hair off his forehead.
Worried, not pissed.
And he realized in a way he hadn’t fully grasped before, how much he projected his own feelings onto other people. How heavy the weight of his guilt was as it tried to drag him down, time after time.
“It’s okay,” she soothed gently, kissing his brow.
This woman who refused to love him.
He wrapped his arms around her and held on so tight it was a wonder she didn’t protest. Instead, she gripped him right back.
They fell asleep, still tangled in each other’s arms.