Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
JORDAN
I gather up my cosmetics and toss them into my travel makeup bag, glancing at my watch as I zip it closed.
Dammit. I’m running behind.
I run my fingers through my freshly curled hair, breaking it into loose waves, then give it a light spritz of hairspray. My Uber’s scheduled to arrive in twenty minutes, and I still haven’t had my tea.
I rush to my suitcase with my bathroom caddy, dumping everything out so I can repack around it. It’s going to be tight. I roll my clothes and stuff them in, start to zip, then remember my shoes.
“Shit.”
I jog to the closet and grab the three pairs I brought. Four, if you count the ones already on my feet.
I stare down at the suitcase, my brain stalling as I try to figure out how to make it all fit. It has to. It did before.
I shove my shoes into the sides and in-between clothes, playing real-life Tetris, then throw my weight into it as I zip it up. Grinning and feeling way too satisfied with myself, I wheel it out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
And freeze.
Matt’s standing at the Nespresso machine, his back to me, shirtless. He’s wearing gym shorts, ink stretching down one leg. Sweat slicks his skin, muscles shifting as he moves.
Holy shit.
My mouth waters.
It waters.
I’m actually salivating.
Like a dog.
What the hell is that about?
Oh. Right. I haven’t had sex in months.
Really, really, should have slept with Alexander.
Matt’s tattoos stretch over sinew and muscle as he reaches for his mug, and I quickly avert my eyes, fixing my attention straight ahead as he turns around. I focus on the tea kettle like my life depends on it.
“Oh, hey, babe. How’d you sleep?” he asks.
I don’t so much as glance at him. If his back is already reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve had sex, I don’t dare look at the front of him.
I open the cupboard and grab a mug. “Good,” I say, relieved to hear him sounding more like himself. “Really good. You?”
My eyes betray me.
I look.
And then I gawk for a beat too long.
Sweat.
Skin.
Six-pack.
The V at his hips.
I swallow.
He smirks.
Jackass.
That’s the most annoying part. Matt knows how hot he is. He knows women turn their heads, nudge their friends, and whisper as he passes by. He knows he can have anyone he wants.
And it’s all he’s ever known. How could he not be cocky?
It’s been like this since second fucking grade.
The kettle whistles, snapping me out of it.
Thank God.
I grab it, turn off the burner, and pour the water into the infuser, forcing my focus back to my tea.
Matt steps in behind me and grips my shoulders. “What time do we need to leave for the airport?”
I spin around.
Bad idea.
Now I’m face-to-face with him. Chest to chest.
My God. Those pecs.
Eyes. Keep your attention on his eyes.
“You don’t need to take me,” I say quickly. “I scheduled an Uber.”
He shakes his head. “Why do you always do that?”
His hands come back up automatically, settling at the base of my neck, thumbs pressing in slow and deliberate along my collarbones.
It feels incredible. Way too incredible.
My pulse jumps, breath catching as my body reacts all at once.
Every nerve lights up, that quiet ache from last night flaring just enough to remind me it’s still there.
Nope.
I grab his wrists and guide his hands away. “I don’t always do this. It’s Monday. You work. It’s a busy day.”
I duck out of his space before he can say anything else and turn back to the counter, focusing on making my tea like it’s suddenly the most important thing in the world.
“So,” he says. “I looked up the logistics for the wedding.”
I glance back at him. “Let’s not call it a wedding.”
He snorts. “Fine. The marriage thing.” He makes a vague, flippant gesture with his hands.
“Turns out we have to apply for a marriage license first. Then there’s a twenty-four-hour waiting period.
I have a meeting here on Tuesday that I can’t miss, but I could fly back when it’s done and meet you at the City Clerk’s office before it closes.
Then we can go in Thursday during lunch and seal the deal. ”
A laugh slips out of me, sharp and unexpected, and I’m not entirely sure if it’s because it’s funny or because it’s kind of devastating.
I don’t how to respond.
Who would’ve thought that after thirty-five years of life, and dreaming about my wedding day for at least thirty of them, I’d be sealing the deal on a lunch break?
I turn around, settling on a quiet, “Sounds good.”
He studies me, clearly unconvinced. “What? Would you rather get drunk and run off to Vegas this weekend?” A smirk tugs at his mouth. “Because that can be arranged.”
“Mmm. I’m sure it could. And I most definitely don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Getting drunk with Matt anywhere is one thousand percent off-limits. Especially in Vegas.
Been there.
Done that.
He chuckles, eyes locked on mine, sparking with an arrogance only Matt can pull off without being douchey. He’s remembering the exact same thing I am.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I scold.
“Oh, come on.” He shrugs. “We can’t even reminisce about the good ol’ times?”
I pour my tea and cup it in both hands, bringing it to my lips with a small smile. “Nope.”
He folds his arms. “Yeah, okay. Fine. We won’t talk about them. Doesn’t mean I can’t think about them.” His gaze drops, then slowly trails back up, branding me with the memory, warmth flushing my skin. It stalls mid-way before drifting back to my face, his expression far too satisfied.
My stomach does that fluttery thing. The thing I kept waiting for when Alexander looked at me—and never got.
I take another sip of my tea, pretending to be unimpressed. Unaffected. But the heat flashing through me says otherwise.
“I don’t have time for this,” I say casually, shaking my head as I hide a smile. “My Uber’s almost here. Just text me tomorrow and tell me what time to meet you.”