CHAPTER 7 LANA
LANA
We've spent the whole day lost in Whispering Pines. Every mile between my house and this place came with a revelation like he was handing me a piece of himself… And now I'm lost in him.
Somehow this sexy firefighter who literally saved my life yesterday is saving me all over again. Jordan’s kiss melts every part of me. The sizzle starts slow and goes molten.
I forget that we are in a public place. I stop keeping track of where I end and he begins. His hand finds the curve of my waist and slides up my side. I arch into it before I can think better of it.
I don't want him to stop.
I don't want any of it to stop.
This is the part where I'm supposed to hear the warning bells. The part where some old, careful voice in the back of my head reminds me what men cost. But the voice isn't there. It's just gone, like he drove it off the mountain on the way up.
Jordan is so different from anyone I've ever known. I trust him implicitly. I don't decide to… it's just already true. It settles somewhere under my ribs before I notice it happening.
My whole nervous system goes quiet when I’m close to him. It’s like a hand pressed flat on a humming wire. With him, I'm not bracing. I'm not looking over my shoulder. For the first time in longer than I can stand to count, I'm just here.
His mouth lands on my neck and I bury my fingers in his hair.
Jordan’s hand slips under the hem of my shirt and his palm is warm against my bare skin.
Everywhere he touches lights up like he's striking matches against my skin.
His mouth drags to the spot where my neck meets my shoulder and he sucks, just hard enough to make me gasp, and I feel the answering pull low in my belly.
Two years of holding myself together in tight, careful pieces—and this man is taking me apart with his lips and one warm hand.
A sound I don't recognize comes out of me and he responds with a growl.
My fingers find his belt. I tug, desperate for more of him and aching to be filled.
Jordan pulls back. It’s just an inch, but it stops me in my tracks.
“What’s wrong?” My breath comes in short, hot gasps.
His forehead drops to mine and he's breathing like he ran up the mountain instead of driving it. "Sweetheart." His voice is low and wrecked. "We don't have to do this. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. I’m not going anywhere either way.”
I can feel how much he means it. He'd stop right now if I told him to. He'd fold this whole date up like he folded my glasses, careful and slow. This man isn’t asking me for a single thing. That's the part that undoes me.
His arms tighten around my waist and he pulls me against his chest. “I’ve got you. There’s no rush.” He lets out a strangled chuckle and breathes his words into my hair. “In fact, we've got to slow down. You have no idea what you're doing to me."
I pull away from him and look into his eyes. Then I slide my hand down the front of his pants and feel exactly what I'm doing to him. He goes still as I tighten my grip and feel him throb with anticipation.
He's hot and heavy and straining against my palm, and the proof of what I do to him makes me feel powerful in a way I haven't felt in years. I stroke him once, slow, and watch his eyes go dark and dangerous.
"I know exactly what I'm doing to you. And I don't want to stop."