Chapter 10 Ciarán
Ten-Ciarán
“So, when are you going to start cooking dinner?” I asked, leaning back in my chair, watching her scribble something down in her notebook.
Jordin glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. “Who said I was cooking?” She was wearing this body-hugging dress with cut-outs in the back. She had this lil' roll I wanted to lick peeking out.
I shrugged, smirking. “I overheard you telling Andrew you were craving shrimp and grits earlier. You ain’t about to act like you didn’t mean to cook them.” Andrew was the sound guy; I didn’t like his ass anymore, even though he’d been with me for years. He was always in Jordin’s face.
Her head snapped up, and she gave me that look. The one that said I was on her last nerve, but she still found me amusing. “I thought I was your guest, not your personal chef. You’re supposed to be taking care of me.”
“You are my guest, and I am taking care of you mentally, baby,” I stood up, slowly walking toward her. “But you’ve been cooking every night since you got here, spoiling me. How am I supposed to go back to Uber Eats now?”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t move when I stepped into her space. She actually turned to face me. Her scent hit me. It was new. Something warm and sweet that clung to her skin, made me wanna lean in closer.
“If you’re spoiled,” she muttered, shaking her head, “that’s not my fault.”
“It is, though.” I let my hand graze her exposed skin. Just a touch. Soft and intentional. “We both know you like taking care of me. Admit it.”
She shifted back a step, her eyes narrowing at me. “Ciarán, are you trying to convince me to cook for you, or are you trying to seduce me?”
“Why can’t it be both?” I asked, taking another step forward, invading her space again.
Her laugh was low and disbelieving. “You’re full of shit.”
“I’m serious.”
Her lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something, but instead, she moved back again. Her hands came up, blocking me.
“I’m still married, you know,” she reminded me, her voice firm now.
I let out a slow breath, my eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t care. I’d share you if I had to. You’re the type of woman that’s worth it. But your husband fucked up, so I don’t even have to.”
She stepped back again and frowned.
I closed the space again, lowering my voice as I leaned in like I was about to kiss her. I really wanted to. But I wouldn’t. Not yet. I just wanted to gauge her reaction.
Her eyes fluttered shut for a second; she puckered her lips. Like she was bracing for it, ready for it. I pressed my phone into her hand.
“Order the ingredients on my account,” I said, stepping back. “We both know you’re gonna make shrimp and grits tonight.”
Her eyes snapped open, narrowing at me, but she took my phone anyway. “You’re so annoying.”
“I know,” I said with a grin. “I’m gonna shower. I’ll meet you in the main house.”
The shower was supposed to clear my head and calm my dick, but it didn’t. Instead, it made me think about her.
I liked Jordin here, with me. I liked her more than I should.
She felt like a friend, something I didn’t have many of.
Like family. It wasn’t even about fucking her.
I just wanted to share space with her. I had meant what I said.
I didn’t give a fuck about her husband. She could go back to his fuck-ass tomorrow, and I’d still find a way to have her in my life. Under any circumstances.
The first time I saw her, it was like hearing the sample for a perfect beat. That foundational piece you build a whole track around. I didn't believe in fairytales, but denying how she made me feel would have been like trying to un-breathe air.
Some part of me had already decided. Recognized her. Marked her as mine in a way I couldn’t undo.
I stepped out of the shower, dripping, grabbing a towel. I dried off then dropped it in the clothes basket. I needed to hurry up. I wanted to chill with Jordin while she cooked.
I pulled the bathroom door open and she was walking into my room. She froze. Her gaze traveled from my head to my toes, then paused on my dick, which was growing harder by the second just because of the look on her face.
When her eyes finally made it back to my face, I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips.
“I told you,” I said, my voice low. “Anything you see in this house, you’re welcome to use. Even me.”
She blinked, her lips pressing into a thin line as she tossed my phone onto the bed. “I’ll be done cooking in an hour. Put some damn clothes on and come eat.” She was kind of breathless, and her chest was rising and falling fast as hell before she stalked out.
The door closed behind her, leaving me standing there, naked and amused.
She was affected.
I wasn’t gonna push to fuck her, though. Her being here wasn’t even about that. But the way things were going, it felt like it was only a matter of time before I was rocking her to sleep. Then she wouldn’t be able to tell me shit, and it would be fuck her husband for real.