Chapter 15 #2
She blinked. The coat he’d given her yesterday was hanging in her closet. She meant to bring it back today, but the truth was, when she’d opened her closet that morning, everything in it smelled of him, and she couldn’t bring herself to take it off the hanger.
“But this must have taken you all night.” She couldn’t get over it. Why would he do that?
The pink crept up to his ears, and if there was ever a time when a beast of a man like Jordan could ever look adorable, it was now. “Not all night. Was done by two. Your dad made it easy enough to put together.”
“You stayed here until two in the morning?” Jordan had spent half the night building her a stage? That was...that was a big deal.
“Look, I can see you overthinking, and you can stop right now.” He ran his hand along his close-cropped hair, and her stomach tightened.
Why was everything he did suddenly sexy as hell?
“I was only gonna do a bit, but like I said, your dad made a good design, and it’s like doing a Lego project. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.”
“Because you play with Legos all the time, right?” She teased, because this man was a rollercoaster. Annoying as hell one moment, adorable the next, and then, to add whiplash, sexy as fuck.
He huffed out a laugh. “You know, most people just say thank you.”
Her gaze shifted from him to the stage and back, lingering an extra moment. He’d stayed until two in the morning building this. For her.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I love it.”
He glanced down, but not before she noticed a small smile tug his lips. He was so guarded, always hiding that smile behind the walls he’d built, and damn it, she found herself wanting more.
She wanted to be the reason he smiled and the reason he couldn’t hide it. She wanted to be the one who made him feel, who made him laugh until he couldn’t stop.
Good Lord, what was happening to her? Apparently, if you build a girl a runway, she’ll start falling for you.
“Seriously, Jordan,” she said, taking a step closer to him, nudging him with her shoulder.
His smile faltered when their gazes met. The air between them shifted in an instant, charged with an electricity that sizzled all the way to her core.
“I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” Her voice was embarrassingly breathless.
Time stretched as they stood there. The gym became smaller. Warmer. The thumping of her own heartbeat filled her ears.
“Walk for me.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a split-second, she worried she might have forgotten how to breathe at all. “Walk—” she croaked, a sound nowhere near as sexy as what had come out of his mouth. “Walk for you?”
“Yeah, princess.” His voice was rough and deep. He jerked his head toward the runway. “Walk for me like you would in a show.”
She swallowed, but her throat was too dry.
She’d walked in over a hundred fashion shows, in front of thousands of people, in various stages of dress and undress.
She’d walked in front of men and women who inspected, critiqued, and commented on every inch of her body.
She walked while cameras flashed all around her, never caring because she loved walking the runway. She was good at it.
So what was this wave of nerves?
“There’s a thousand videos of me doing that.” She raised her hand to her throat, but that did nothing to ease how parched it was.
He leaned closer, churning the warmth into heat. “I don’t want a fucking video that everyone’s seen a million times. I want the real thing. You walking just for me.” His tongue swept across his lower lip, and she drank in the sight of him as her heart somersaulted in her chest. He looked…ravenous.
“I—I don’t have an outfit,” she stammered, her vision still locked on his lips.
Until he huffed a low laugh, and her gaze met his dark eyes. “You really think clothes are the part of you that gets to me?” He watched her carefully. “Walk for me, Vanessa.”
Maybe it was the name drop, maybe it was the effect his rough demands had on her nervous system, or maybe it was because she wanted to break in her new stage…yeah, she’d go with that.
“Fine.” She brushed past him. “But let me at least get the right shoes on.” Going to the bag she’d dropped when she entered the gym, she took out the strappy heels she’d brought for today’s runway training.
Her body buzzed with the awareness of Jordan’s gaze as she unzipped her boots, her skin suddenly too sensitive, breasts tender against her tight shirt, her breath growing shallow.
She wondered what kind of performance he was expecting from her. A lot of people thought runway walking was simple, that being tall and beautiful was all it took. But that was a misconception.
Walking the runway was an art. Each designer had their own vision, and each show demanded something unique from its models. What worked in one show didn’t vibe in another.
What would be right for The Jordan Show?
A small smile tugged her lips. Maybe she’d show him something he wasn’t expecting.
Securing the last strap around her ankle, she dug her phone from her bag and rose. “I need music.” She sauntered past him toward the steps at the back of the stage, sight set on her Spotify list.
On the night of the show, they’d put up black curtains to create a backstage area.
For now it was all open, so she wouldn’t be able to make her ideal entrance, but she could still make an impact.
Selecting the song she had in mind, she connected her phone to the speakers and hit play.
As the tune’s opening bars filled the massive space, she regretted she hadn’t turned down any of the gym’s fluorescent lights.
The ambiance and outfit weren’t ideal, but she vowed to make this the best runway walk of her life.
When the opening bars peaked, she spun around, shutting out everything around her but Jordan. Gone were the harsh lights, scuffed yellow wood floors, and paint-chipped walls. In their place, she imagined a darkened room, spotlights, and the clicks of photographers’ lenses.
She wanted him to see it too, to picture her in a designer gown, hair and makeup perfect, walking toward him as if she was the center of the universe.
She knew what she looked like as she moved in her signature runway walk.
The sway of her hips, the sharp line of her shoulders.
Each step was designed to be a declaration that she was confident, untouchable, beautiful. All his.
The music pulsed through her, filling her senses, guiding her every movement.
She let it take over, flowing with it. Fluid, but controlled, as though she were gliding through water, effortlessly pulling herself closer to him with every step.
When she posed in the middle of the catwalk and lifted her chin, her gaze never leaving his, she could sense the shift in the air between them.
The space that had once crackled with annoyance and mild disdain now sizzled with something sensual, carnal.
Judging by the way his fists clenched at his sides, she knew he did too.
The music changed tempo, and she continued down the runway, stopping once more to twirl, pop a hip, and pose. She wanted to give him the full experience of watching a model eat up every inch of the runway to her advantage.
When she came to a final stop at the end, he moved to meet her. With her standing above him on the stage and his face lined up directly with her thighs, his gaze zeroed in on her center. Heat surged through her as he shamelessly drank her in, as if he was ready to eat her out right then and there.
And, have mercy, it took everything in her not to clench her thighs together to relieve the sudden need for him to do just that.
Maybe they were better off annoyed with each other. It was definitely safer.
After a few more seconds of him staring and one song fading to another, she finally decided to turn and head back to the stairs. But as she moved to turn, his hand closed around one of her ankles. A firm, possessive grip that anchored her in place.
Why was that so hot?
His gaze traveled up her body until it met hers.
His eyes were intense and unrelenting, darker than she’d ever seen them.
Slowly, his palms slid up her legs, roaming over every curve, until finally she nodded at him, a silent answer to his unspoken question.
He gripped her under her ass and lifted her off the stage.
Her hands went to his shoulders to steady herself, a ragged breath escaping her, and then he slid her down his massive body as if she weighed nothing, as if she wasn’t five foot eleven.
When her feet hit the ground, her head tipped back, their gazes colliding, and she tried to decipher what she saw in his.
Swallowing was like trying to drink a cup of sand. “I hope that lived up to expectations,” she managed to say through her parched mouth.
Jordan said nothing, his pupils impossibly wide. He reminded her of a jaguar ready to pounce.
Slowly, he backed her up against the edge of the stage, his body flush against hers, his thick thigh finding its way between her legs. The way he placed it made her feel like she’d saddled a horse, her core perfectly snug against his quad.
And in under a second, her mouth went from parched to salivating.
Taking the chance of a lifetime, she ran her fingers along his ribs, over his abs, and then slid them over each defined muscle. His breath hissed out in a long shudder as she rolled her hips, creating the most delicious friction.
When her fingers didn’t stop their descent, his hand shot out to wrap around hers. “Careful, princess.” His voice was like a rumble of thunder. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”
It was the first time she’d heard a dangerous edge in his tone.
A darkness that matched the scarred and tatted look of him.
But even with all that, she knew there was no threat in his words.
She wanted to call him on it. She wanted more friction, more heat, but the sound of giggling echoed down the hallway.
As quickly as he’d pressed himself against her, he pushed away.
He wiped his mouth like he’d finished a meal, but his gaze stayed locked on hers. Only when the gym doors slammed open and half a dozen young people burst into the room did they break eye contact.
“Oh. My. God.” Rory’s shocked voice pierced the gym.
Vanessa froze for a millisecond, wondering how much the girls had seen, until the squeals of delight ensued, and she realized they’d noticed the stage.
Stepping away with a forced smile, when all she wanted to do was continue dry humping Jordan’s leg, was harder than she thought.
“You can’t be serious!” Tessa hightailed it to the stage. “This is crazy. We’re having a real show.”
Shrieking in unison, the five girls huddled around the base of the stage like it was the front row of a Taylor Swift concert. Before she knew it, Vanessa got caught up in their excitement, remembering how thrilled she’d been when she first started her modeling career.
“You can thank this guy. He stayed up half the night building it for us.” Vanessa nudged Jordan, as her smile warmed.
Her heart swelled as he gave a small shrug and looked away shyly while a chorus of thank yous and you’re the bests erupted around him. Maybe her beast had a soft spot after all.
Deciding to spare him further embarrassment, she clapped her hands. “Okay, models, I hope you all brought your shoes, because the show is in six days, and we have a lot of rehearsal to do if we want to raise enough money for this place.”
After spending hours locked in her apartment, panic scrolling through social media, hunting for any new videos of her in humiliating situations, and fighting the growing paranoia that someone was always watching, the chaos of these rehearsals had become the highlight of her day.
Without them, she’d probably have lost all semblance of normalcy… and sanity.
The girls, giddy with excitement as they slipped on their heels, practiced their walks on the runway, their laughter filling the gym. Over the weeks, they’d grown closer, and with each passing day, Vanessa learned more about each of them. Their hopes, their fears, their stories.
Despite the age gap between them, a powerful protective instinct kicked in. As long as their lives were intertwined with her own, she was responsible for them.
She knew what it was to feel worthless, so she gave everything to make sure they saw the worth and potential she saw in them.
“I have good news,” she told them when they were all on stage, practicing their choreography. “All the outfits arrive on Thursday, so we’re having a full dress rehearsal on Friday!”
More excited laughter bounced off the walls, and Vanessa caught a glimpse of Jordan pushing a cart of basketballs toward the equipment room, the faintest smile ghosting his face.
With no practice and the stage done, she hadn’t expected him to stay. Not that she minded. She was getting used to him. His presence settled her, even as it distracted her. He made her feel safe.
But something had shifted today, and she couldn’t deny it. Walking for him had been one of the most intimate things she’d ever done. The way he looked at her…she was still burning from it.
One thought gnawed at her. Would he have kissed her if the girls hadn’t shown up at that exact moment?
And the more dangerous thought—had she wanted him to?