Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Vanessa woke in an empty bed, but for the first time in a very long time she didn’t feel alone. Before she opened her eyes, she lay for a couple of minutes listening to the waves crashing outside the window.
They’d been a constant backdrop to her and Jordan’s lovemaking through the night, an orchestra accompanying their moans of pleasure.
While she slept, they were a gentle lullaby that drowned out any intrusive thoughts or worries she might have had.
She wanted to relax in that loud, rushing sound for the rest of the day.
But she also wanted to get her hands on Jordan again, so she knew she’d have to emerge from their love nest to find him.
Love nest. A smile curved her lips at the idea of them cocooning themselves in this bed while they drove each other over peak after peak for hours. If they were ever going to kill each other, that was the way to do it.
Besides, she barely had any clothes with her, so there was really no point in doing anything else.
Rolling onto her side, she reached out to the empty, unmade half of the bed beside her. She expected he wouldn’t be one to sleep in, not with his restless soul.
With a sigh, she stretched her legs. A delicious ache tugged between them. A reminder of all they’d done last night. For an old guy, Jordan had a lot of stamina. Maybe the near decade he’d spent celibate had something to do with the flurry of orgasms he’d unleashed on her last night.
Climbing out of bed, she trotted over to her travel bag. A second look confirmed she didn’t have much that was appropriate for a stay at a snowy beach house.
With a groan, she opened a few drawers in the bedroom until she found one stacked neatly with dark monochrome t-shirts.
“Even less surprising than Nat’s packing choices,” she murmured to herself as she unfolded a black t-shirt and slipped it over her head.
The extra-large shirt fell mid-thigh, and a waft of laundry detergent and Jordan floated up to her nose.
Unable to resist, she lifted the collar and inhaled deeply.
If his scent was a drug, she was already an addict.
After brushing her teeth in the bathroom, she padded through the bedroom and out to the kitchen. With the sun up, she took a minute to take in the space. There wasn’t much, which was to be expected. Zeus wasn’t the god of home décor, but there were a few unexpected touches.
An old hand-drawn map of the area was framed and hanging in the hall. A mason jar half filled with sea glass sat on a windowsill. A bookshelf packed with various titles was something she planned to check out later, while a driftwood stool by the door was another reminder she was in a beach house.
The cottage had beach-theme vibes, but in a ran out of ideas kind of way. Luckily, she was here now. Maybe she could convince him to go shopping today?
She found him in the kitchen, much like she had yesterday at the apartment. Had it really only been twenty-four hours since he’d cooked her breakfast, popped her on his bike, and brought her here?
He had his back to her, rocking gray sweats and his signature black t-shirt that matched hers. The fabric stretched over his broad shoulders and hugged his broad shoulders.
Now that she’d seen it, she wished he’d take the shirt off. His body was too impressive to hide. But she realized how careful he was about displaying his chest. Not self-conscious exactly, but rather…conscious, like he was aware of what was on his torso and how it might affect people.
She hadn’t noticed the habit until last night. His tattoos and scars were quiet markers of a past he wasn’t proud of and didn’t want to draw attention to.
But she wasn’t anybody, and she wanted to see all of him. Her footsteps were quiet, but Jordan missed nothing. As he filled the coffee machine, his hands stilled when she came up behind him.
“Good morning,” she said softly, running her hands up his spine before wrapping around him in a hug from behind. She’d done this last night, and it hadn’t gone well, but now his chest rose and fell in a deep, contented sigh.
Funny how she saw it now. His scowl and his silent demeanor were a combination of his nerves and his self-loathing. All that time she thought she didn’t like him, when really he wasn’t much different from her.
Resting her cheek against his back, she finally said it: “Thank you.”
“For what?” The words rumbled through his chest, and she smiled, because it was his signature grumble that she adored.
“For seeing all the sides of me.” She pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “And being gentle with each one.”
He twisted around, gaze catching hers before he hauled her up in his arms like it was nothing, like he’d been doing it for years. His lips crashed against hers with a hunger that stole the air from her lungs. The kiss didn’t ask or hesitate. It simply took. And she gave freely.
One of his hands slid up to her jaw, his warm and steady fingers caressing her there, before moving to the nape of her neck. His grip tightened enough to tilt her head, angling her closer so he could kiss her deeper.
She melted against him, fingers curling in his shirt, heart thudding hard against her ribs. She loved the way he kissed, like he couldn’t get enough, like he never wanted to stop. Like he meant every second of it.
When she looped her arms around his neck, he grabbed her under her ass, spun around, and set her on the counter.
“You,” he gasped before he kissed her again, one hand threading through her hair, the other squeezing her hip. He didn’t finish his thought as he kept kissing her, wedging his hips between her thighs and spreading them wide.
His hand found its way under her shirt, sliding up her rib cage and cupping her breast. He strummed his thumb over her nipple, and she moaned against his mouth. His answering hum of approval sent an electric current straight to her pussy.
“Didn’t even bother wearing underwear?” His palm flattened against her lower belly. “Came to the kitchen looking to get fucked again, didn’t you?”
That dirty talk, in that gravelly voice of his, was the biggest turn-on. She wanted more. When she didn’t immediately answer, he pinched her nipple, making her gasp.
“Yes!” Her head tipped back when his lips found the ultra-sensitive skin under her ear. “It’s all I can think about.”
“Mm. My greedy girl likes what I give her.”
Their lips collided again, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth. The kiss seemed endless, and she lost all sense of space and time, until his fingers slid between her legs and his thumb grazed her clit.
Her head snapped back on a sharp cry. “Sensitive,” she gasped as he watched her through half-lowered lids.
“Too much?” He stroked his thumb around her pussy lips, avoiding the electric bundle of nerves.
“No, no. I want you. I need it, please. It’s just—”
“Just what, princess.”
“We did a lot of fucking last night.” Her forehead dropped to his shoulder.
The stroking of his fingers around her slick, sensitive flesh was torturous.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had this much attention.”
“I can stop.”
When his fingers slowed, she locked her legs around his hips to keep him in place. “Don’t you dare.” She caught his gaze. “But maybe, go easy.”
“Easy?”
“Yeah.”
He shoved his sweatpants down to his thighs and brought the head of his cock to her entrance, teasing it around her opening before stroking it gently around her engorged clit in small circles. Electric currents fired through her.
“Like this?” His voice was a low rasp that she felt in her core.
“Uh-huh,” she panted.
He pushed the head in. “How’s that?” His voice was a gravelly whisper.
“Go-good,” she managed. “So good.”
Slowly, he slid his hand up her shirt again, caressing her breast as he pushed inside her even more. “Now?” His voice was thicker, like he was struggling for control.
“Jordan.” His name was a long, drawn-out plea for relief. He was torturing them both. “Give me all of it.”
He flashed a wicked little grin. “But you said go easy.”
She shook her head ferociously. “I changed my mind. I want you to fuck me as hard as you can.”
His laugh sent her heart tumbling toward a free fall.
“Do it,” she demanded.
“Greedy this morning.” But he did as she asked, pumping his hips once, then twice, until he was all the way in.
“Oh, fuck.” Her head fell back. “You’re so big.
” Her body stretched deliciously for him.
The ache was exquisite, the perfect pull between pleasure and pain.
She’d come like this, without him even touching her clit.
She could feel it. All of her insides were lit up, ready to explode.
She only needed the fuel. “Harder,” she begged, wiggling her hips.
Bracing himself against the counter, he slammed into her again and again, his face contorted. Passion burned in his eyes.
“My baby likes it hard?” he rasped. “Even when she’s sore.”
Threading his fingers through her hair, he tugged at the strands as he thrust harder. “I’ll make you come like this because you asked for it, but when we’re done, you’re going to let me spend the rest of the day taking care of you. Understood?”
Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head with all the pleasure consuming her.
No, it wasn’t pleasure. That was too gentle a word for the fireworks crackling through her body, the explosion of color firing behind her lids, the intensity building in her lower belly. “So close, oh God, don’t stop.”
“Not God, princess. This dirty fucking only comes from me.” Wrapping her hair around his fist, he dragged her mouth to his for a scorching kiss, his tongue thrusting in time with his hips.
Their bodies were nothing more than sweat-slicked skin, writhing in ecstasy. When his thumb found her over sensitized clit, it only took a single stroke to throw her over the edge.
Her legs trembled around his hips, her fingernails dug into his shoulders scoring him, and her lips tore from his a second before a scream ripped from her throat.
She hadn’t screamed during sex. Ever. But here she was, her throat raw, lungs heaving from the marathon gasping she’d done. Technicolor engulfed the room, stars burst around her, angels sang, and her pussy contracted to the tune of a symphony around Jordan’s gigantic dick.
And as he’d done every time they’d been together, he pulled out seconds before he came, finishing himself with his hand as hot liquid landed all over her still-shaking thighs.
Bracing himself with one hand on the counter, he reached behind her for a paper towel. “I’m sorry,” he said, breathless. “I keep making a mess of you.”
The afterglow of her release faded, leaving a painful tightness in her chest. Years of living under the fashion industry’s harsh eye should’ve made his words feel like a rejection.
But Jordan saw all her sides, and she saw all of his.
Which was why she knew this was him rejecting himself and not her.
She suspected there was a reason he never finished inside her, a reason that had nothing to do with her or his desire to do it, and everything to do with the past that constantly weighed him down with guilt and inner turmoil.
She saw it, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet. Many parts of Jordan remained a mystery, and she knew she shouldn’t pressure him to talk about it if he wasn’t ready.
Whatever they’d built over the last few weeks had slowly chipped away at his walls, and in the cracks, she caught precious glimpses of the sensitive man beneath.
She didn’t want to scare that part of him away, but she did want to show him that he was safe with her, that he was more than worthy of coming inside her.
More than that, she wanted him to. Badly.
Dipping her fingers through a stream of pearly white liquid on her quad, she spread it across her thigh, down to her still wet and swollen center.
A groan rumbled from him, but that wasn’t what made the desire reignite in her belly.
It was the way he watched her, his pupils dilating, eating up all the warm brown of his irises as they followed the movement of her fingers.
She loved him like this, consumed by a primal desire that matched hers.
“Maybe I like it when you make a mess of me,” she whispered, her own voice hoarse to her ears. “Maybe I want you to make a mess of me all day.”
He laughed, or maybe it was a sob. She couldn’t tell because he was still enthralled by her fingers spreading his cum around her sex. Whatever the sound, it was choked.
“Damn, woman.” He tugged her forward, settling himself once more between her thighs. “Do you never need a break?”
“Do you? Because I know you’re middle-aged, but—”
He crushed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss.
“Since when is thirty-eight considered middle-aged?” Another kiss, slower this time.
“You should know I could go all day, princess. But for the record, I’ve also got months of pent-up need to deal with, and as much as I want you, taking care of you matters as much to me.
Maybe even more.” His hand lingered on her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.
“So, if you’d do me the honor of setting your very impressive libido aside for an hour, I’d like to take you out, feed you, spoil you, then.
..drag you right back to bed. Sound good? ”
He couldn’t be real. He’d admitted that he’d killed people. He’d spent years in prison. Yet he spoke like a poet. A soul searcher. A Romeo.
Either she was the luckiest woman on earth, or he had the best con in history going. She decided it was the former. Wiggling out of his grip and off the countertop, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Give me thirty minutes.”