Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
JORDAN
The water laps against my skin as I reach for my towel, wiping the fog from the screen of my phone.
The hot tub was screaming my name after today. After work. After Matt’s office. After… that kiss.
The kiss made everything else hard today.
Hard because I couldn’t focus on anything after it. I left Matt’s office floating and sinking at the same time, high as a kite and drowning in holy shits.
Right after I made that bet with Sabrina, too.
I know it wasn’t meant to mean anything. It was Matt playing a part. He’s kissed me a few times since we got married, mostly seeing what he can get away with. Sometimes he’ll kiss me in front of Cole to show him what a normal marriage looks like. But those have been quick. A peck on the mouth.
This?
This was not a peck on the mouth.
This was oh my God worthy. Melt-my-insides worthy. Matthew Grayson worthy.
The man can kiss.
And he can do so much more. My God, can he do so much more.
I came straight home from work and reached for my vibrator. Had a little one-on-one time with me, myself, and my thoughts—Matt may or may not have been in them. Then I had dinner, poured myself a glass of wine, and headed for the hot tub.
I’ve been scrolling for the past ten minutes, unwinding, and letting the buzz take the edge off.
My phone dings with a text.
Sabrina
Hey, did you see this? Looks like the word is officially out.
She sends a link.
I click it and am taken to a New York social blog—clubs, business, food, insider gossip.
My eyes land on my work headshot under the title.
Matthew Grayson ties the knot.
My pulse spikes, and I take in a sharp breath.
There’s a picture of Matt too, right next to mine.
My heartbeat thrums between my ears, the heat feeding my anxiety.
I hesitate. This is the moment where things could go from complicated to worse.
Matthew Grayson quietly marries longtime friend Jordan Demetriou.
Yeah, I’m obviously reading it.
Don’t hold your breath, ladies—Matthew Grayson is officially off the market… City Hall… one witness… friends forever… sources say Jordan moved into his penthouse weeks ago…
It goes on. A brief history of Matt’s career. Then mine. Our friendship. Something about me being a runaway bride, him not being Greek. Rumors that our relationship never really ended. A source claiming it did end, officially.
But that’s it.
No lies.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing about Cole.
My gaze drops to the comments at the bottom of the article.
Five total. One main comment with a small thread underneath it.
I know I shouldn’t. But I’m not strong enough not to. I may have just ruined my relationships with my family members—I have to know what people are saying.
I click.
Noooooo. He’s too hot to not be shared.
A smile tugs at my lips. Truth bomb right there.
Lol. She’s so lucky. I keep waiting for a hot billionaire to sweep me off my feet. Holding strong.
At least she’s pretty. I was worried he’d marry some bland socialite.
It’s shallow, but the smile I’m holding back breaks free.
Right? But he’s been obsessed with her forever.
Does anyone know if they swing? Asking for a friend. The friend: Me. He’s already slept with half of New York anyway. One more wouldn’t hurt.
And that’s all of them.
I laugh softly at that last one, my pulse slowing, my body relaxing, grounded by validation I didn’t even know I needed.
I hate that it can do that. Social media. Comments. Opinions from people I don’t even know.
I wouldn’t take advice from a single one of them, yet their opinions of me somehow determine how I feel about myself.
The back door slides open, and Matt steps outside. He’s still in his suit, still looking hot as hell, and still affecting me in ways I don’t want to admit.
My pulse shoots right back to where it was when I saw the article—fast and erratic.
It’s almost nine. When Matt says he’s working late, he’s usually home by eight.
“Hey,” I say, as cool as I can manage, given the chaos in my chest.
“Hey,” he says back. “You all packed for tomorrow? We have to leave at six.”
“For the most part,” I reply.
He cocks a brow, suspicious.
He always does this. As if I’m not capable of being ready for an early flight after thirty-five years on this planet.
“I’ll be ready,” I promise. “You’re home later than usual. Everything okay?”
Part of me worries he’s avoiding me, but that wouldn’t make sense. Matt wouldn’t avoid me because of a kiss. If anything, he’d lean into it.
He folds his arms, eyes narrowing, gazed fixed on me. “Yeah. Just a lot to do before we go to Switzerland.”
“Ah, the honeymoon,” I tease. “You know the offer still stands,” I add lightly, because I don’t want him thinking I’ve even thought about that kiss from earlier. “You can sleep with someone else… Switzerland seems like a convenient place to do it. Leave it there.”
He scoffs, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to the ground like it’s nothing. “Fuck someone else on our honeymoon?” He shakes his head, undoing his tie. “I don’t think so.”
The tie drops.
His fingers move to his buttons, and panic squeezes its way up my throat.
His mouth curves. “If I’m fucking anyone in Switzerland, it’s you, babe.”
Jesus Christ.
My eyes are glued to his hands as he kicks off his shoes, tugs at his belt, then unzips his pants and shoves them down.
“Wh—what are you doing?” I ask, trying to cover up the shakiness in my voice.
“I’m getting in. What does it look like I’m doing?”
Holy fuck. No.
Matt can’t get in. Matt has one rule with his hot tub: the naked rule.
He’s onto his socks. He pulls them off and stands, my mouth going dry as he straightens. Confident. Cocky. A full smirk waiting to be smacked off his face.
It should be a sin to look that good.
His smirk turns into a grin as his thumbs hook the band of his boxer briefs. “Better turn around if you still plan on not sleeping together.”
I puff out a sound of disbelief. “You’re not actually—”
He pushes them down, and I spin around. But not before catching an eyeful of Matt.
All of Matt.
Memories crash into me, uninvited but very, very welcome.
Heat floods my veins. I’d blame the hot tub, but I know better.
His chuckle carries over the jets as he gets in.
I turn back around—seething, flustered. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Really?” He laughs. “You know my rule. No swimsuits.” He arches a purposeful brow. “And right now? You’re breaking the rules.”
“Nice try. Not happening.”
He takes a step toward me, and I throw an arm out, making a stop sign with my hand. “Uh-uh. You stay right there.”
“Fine,” he says, one corner of his mouth lifting.
He sinks into the seat across from me. “You know when these bubbles stop, you’re going to be able to see everything.”
“Worried it’ll look soft and small under the water?”
“Nothing small about it, babe.” His gaze drops, and mine locks on his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “Nothing soft about it, either.”
My bottom lip rolls between my teeth without thinking. I brace my arms on the edge of the hot tub and lift myself up. The cold air hits my chest, and Matt’s stare turns lethal.
He doesn’t even try to hide it.
Nope. His eyes are fixed on my chest, unapologetic.
“Remind me,” he says, gaze dragging up to meet mine. “Why are we not having sex?”
“Because we’re not making this more complicated than it already is. Because we’re mature adults who decided Cole was more important than our physical needs. Because we have a beginning, middle, and an end to this… and no one wants to get hurt.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me.”
“God.” I shake my head. “You can’t stand someone telling you no.”
“It’s not the no,” he says. “It’s that it’s from you.”
I pause, absorbing his answer, but it only confuses me. “Is it because you worry I don’t want to?”
“No. I know you want to. That’s the problem.”
He stands and moves toward me, water dripping down his perfect fucking body.
I sink back down into the water and splash a wave at him. “Stay back,” I warn.
He just chuckles, dark and wicked. The devil coming to collect on the lie I’m telling with my silence.
“Why can’t you just admit you want to?”
He grips the lip of the pool on either side of me, caging me in. “Worried you’re going to cave?” he murmurs, his gaze searing into mine, his cock inches from my face, just below the surface.
My words catch in my throat.
I can’t fucking breathe.
I stand suddenly, fight-or-flight taking over. If I don’t get out of the hot tub, Sabrina’s right—I’ll cave. I’ll sleep with Matt.
I know myself too well.
I know him.
And I know it’ll be too good to stop.
I don’t answer him. I just turn and step out, the chill sending a wave of shivers through me.
“Well, there’s my answer,” he calls out, arrogant as hell.
I don’t bother with a towel. I don’t have time for that. But I pause at the door, back to him, water dripping down my body.
I pull the strings of my swim top, and it drops to the ground.
Then I tug out the elastic holding my hair up, letting it fall down my back.
I look over my shoulder and flash him a sweet smile, an I win smile, before sliding open the door and walking away, my thong bikini bottom delivering the last word.
Just to fuck with him.