CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JORDAN
Seven and Damian’s conversation seemed to drag on forever. They’d stepped away from the clamor of the gathering, retreating into the foyer to continue their discussion. I let myself be swept into the fervor, accepting glasses of wine and tiny cubes of cheese when presented with them. How could I not? Hors d’oeuvres were practically my love language.
My attention drifted back to the heated conversation on the fringes of the room. It couldn’t be that serious…right? I mulled over the conflicting details while conversations floated around me. I told Damian it was my decision to slip away. I told him not to be mad at Seven. So what could they possibly be discussing over there for so long, and why did I feel like it was my fault?
Their eternal dialogue finally ended when Damian rubbed his forehead and drifted away from Seven, rejoining the party. Whatever passed between them dropped as soon as he reached Jessa’s side with a smile. But Seven lurked in the shadows, his gaze burning through me.
He jerked his head toward the back of the penthouse, a signal for me to follow. I set my wine down, popped the cheese into my mouth, and hurried toward him. He stormed down a back hallway, taking long strides I struggled to keep up with. He pushed a door open, stepping inside and waiting for me to enter. My belly flipped, and I followed him into a spare bedroom, dimly lit from the waning evening light. Once the door was shut, Seven drew a deep breath, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
I leaned against the wall beside the door and nibbled on my lip, avoiding his gaze. I knew the lashing was coming. But he didn’t say a word.
“Hi,” I finally whispered.
“Don’t fucking ‘hi’ me,” he snapped, his anger leaking out in the sharpness of his words. His nostrils flared for a moment. “What you should be opening with is why the fuck you disappeared today after promising me you wouldn’t.”
I swallowed hard. I had no good reason that was easily explained. It was complex. It was deeply rooted. It was personal. I wasn’t afraid to explain all that to Seven, but confronted this way, I couldn’t form words.
I rolled my lips inward, my gaze stuck on the floor.
“Now, thanks to you, I look like a useless idiot who can’t be trusted to perform the most basic task.” His words were edged with a growl, and the way he advanced told me he needed to hear something—anything—from me.
“That wasn’t my intention,” I whispered, finally daring to meet his gaze. “I swear it wasn’t. I just…needed to clear my head. I wanted to be alone.”
“That’s when you tell me what the plan is.”
“I didn’t know what the plan was,” I shot back, some of my resolve returning.
“Then you give me a fucking heads-up.” He stepped closer, that cologne reaching me again, making me weak. “You text. You call. You say ‘I don’t know where I’m going, but I’ll be back later.’”
“Did you ever consider I’m used to living on my own?” I said, my voice rising. “Maybe I just want to go somewhere on my own and have it be fine.”
“You’re not living in that world anymore,” he shot back. “Not while you’re in my care. Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to have my employer be the one to let me know I’ve lost track of his sister? Think about it. It’s common decency, Jordan. Which maybe you’d see if you weren’t so busy being a brat all the time.”
I balled my fists, annoyed by the way that word could activate me to be even more of a brat. But I couldn’t resist the urge. “It’s a full-time job, Seven, didn’t you know?”
“Just like my job protecting you is,” he retorted. “But I don’t make your life harder. I make it safer.”
“It’s a job I never asked you to do,” I said, already knowing this conversation was on a downward spiral.
“Then go talk to you brothers and persuade them to take me off this assignment so you and I can both go do the things that we actually want to do,” he growled.
My heart thumped against my ribs, conflicting emotions clamoring to be released. Half of me wanted to make sure he never did anything but be forced to protect me, just so he couldn’t go do these other things he “actually wanted to do.” But the other half of me wanted to crumple at his feet and ask him to hold me, to reassure me that he did want to be with me.
Because the truth was that if I didn’t have Seven nearby, everything would feel wrong.
I hated to even admit it to myself. So it needed to never pass my lips.
“Maybe that’s a good idea,” I taunted, rediscovering my edge. “I’ll recommend you for someone much less challenging. Seven needs an easy task. Can’t handle the cool girls, the brats, the ones who actually know how to speak up.”
He let out a dry, humorless chuckle, something dangerous sliding over his face. The sly confirmation that my arrows were hitting their target only egged me on.
“But until I go have that conversation with my brothers, there’s an easier solution here.” I ran my tongue along my teeth, weighing what I was about to say. Being hidden away in this bedroom, inches from his masculinity, his scent, his power and strength, affected me in the same way it always did. I was fucking clenching and desperate.
“And what would that be?” he asked flatly.
“You should fuck the brat out of me.” I smirked.
His chin dipped, his eyes darkening. “I wouldn’t fuck a brat when I know she’s just doing it to prove a point.”
“And what point would that be?” I challenged, hearing the desperation in my own voice as he started to turn away from me. I couldn’t even stop myself from grabbing his hand. Now that he was so close, I only needed him closer.
His gaze dropped to my hand at his wrist, then up to my face. “You know better than anyone what your little game is about.”
Everything was churning together inside me. Desperate need, repressed desire, the heady realization that I wanted Seven more than I wanted air.
“You can feel for yourself what it’s about.” I couldn’t stop the evil curl of my lips as I watched the desire darken his features. Suddenly he wasn’t pulling away. He drifted closer. “You must need me to spell it out for you, huh?” I rolled my hips in his direction. “I bet you can even feel it through my leggings.”
Seven bridged the remaining space between us in one step, his palms pressed to the wall on either side of me. “You’re wet. I get it. I’m not surprised, since pushing buttons clearly turns you on. But here’s a newsflash—I don’t fuck brats, and I don’t fuck people who don’t have my back.”
His words landed like a sledgehammer. And not because of the brat part.
“What do you mean?” I demanded. I could hear the real hurt in his voice, which had my alarms going off.
“You walked out on me, no heads-up, no nothing, putting both yourself and my work at risk. That’s inexcusable, Jordan, and that’s not the type of woman I go for.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to digest this information in milliseconds. “What type of woman I am shouldn’t even matter. You don’t date.”
“Don’t act stupid,” he growled. “You could put the entire female population of Manhattan in front of me, Jordan, and I’d only see you. Of course it fucking matters. Even if it shouldn’t.”
I felt like I had a concussion. Were we talking feelings? Attraction? Compatibility? Nothing made sense, yet somehow, this was the only thing that made sense.
“I do have your fucking back,” I corrected him. “I told Damian exactly what I’d done the second I showed up here. I told him not to blame you. I told him this was my emotional bullshit and no fault of yours. Happy?”
His jaw flexed as he studied me, his dark gaze bouncing like a pinball across my face. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally bit out.
“I think it does,” I added, suddenly terrified that he’d tear himself away from me and leave me reeling, cold and abandoned. “And for the record, if you put the entire male population of Manhattan in front of me, I’d only see you.” I swallowed a knot in my throat. Should I confess even more? I drew a deep breath and went for it. “Your smile is, like, the best thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t stand how long your eyelashes are, because every time I look at you, I feel like I go a little crazier from how much I want you. I would climb on your back like a koala if you’d let me. I’ve never wanted someone more than I want you, Antonin Silva, and it’s just—”
Seven dipped down, cupping my face in his rough hands as his lips met mine. The rest of my accolades melted into heartbreaking kisses, tender and seeking and heated. I whimpered, clutching the backs of his hands as we kissed, more deeply and passionately than ever before. I writhed beneath his touch, desperate for unending amounts of him. Our tongues moved slowly together in a rhythm all our own.
When we broke for air, the drugged look on his face was enough to undo me. I collapsed against the wall, suddenly unable to use my legs. He bit his bottom lip, his gaze dragging up and down my body.
“So what’s the plan now?” he asked, the corner of his lip curling up as he smoothed his hands over the dip of my waist and down the sides of my legs. “Just fuck you in here before dinner with your family?”
“As long as we lock the door, I don’t see a problem with that…”
One of his hands drifted across my thigh and between my legs. His gaze went hooded as he swiped his fingers over the crotch of my leggings. The brief pressure against my clit made my knees buckle. He caught me before I slid to the ground.
“You’re right,” he whispered hotly in my ear. “I can feel it through your leggings.”
A shiver raced through my body. I angled my head toward him, welcoming more of that gritty voice right in my ear.
“I bet you could feel it through my pants, too,” he added, and then gently bit my earlobe.
I moaned low, bucking my hips in his direction, just as I heard a deep voice call out, “Jordan?”
His gaze snapped to the door.
“I’m in the spare room,” I called out, as Seven took several steps’ worth of distance. “Just arguing with my bodyguard.”
“Oh, cool,” Axel said, his voice much closer to the door now. “Hope you guys hash it out soon, because we’re trying to do a toast.”
“Be there in a second,” I said brightly, watching as Seven arranged his cock through his pants. The ridge there was delectable—edible—swallowable. I licked my lips involuntarily.
“We need to go back out there,” he told me, clarity in his gaze. “And you need to clarify one thing right away.”
“What’s that?” I asked, unable to rip my gaze from the crotch of his pants.
“I called them your family before, and you didn’t object.” He crossed his arms, satisfaction leaking out of him. “What happened today?”
Prickles of warmth spread through my body at the comment. The man saw me. He knew me. He noticed me. Not to mention he wanted me. I bit the inside of my lip, unsure where to begin or how to corral all the surging emotions.
“We talked some things over,” I said softly. “I guess you could say we finally had the conversation I’ve been needing to have since I was fifteen.”
A genuine smile lit up his face and he nodded. “Good. I’ve been hoping I’d hear that.” He pulled open the door and held it for me, waiting for me to pass through to the hallway first. But as I slipped past him, he gave me one hard crack on the ass cheek.
“That’s for being a brat.”
The satisfied smile on his lips only made me fall harder for him.
I inhaled sharply, squinting through the darkness at my surroundings. I’d come out of a deep sleep like a bear emerging from winter hibernation. I had no idea where I was, where I’d been, or what my name was.
Sheets rustled around me. But these weren’t my sheets. I struggled to orient myself in the shadowy room but couldn’t find a feature that made sense. Where the fuck was I?
Fragments of memories returned to me. A toast to family. A ridiculously delicious meal. And wine. So much wine I couldn’t even recall how the night ended.
I turned onto my side, a dark mass beside me causing me to recoil. But only until I made out the shadowy relief of Seven’s broad, bare back.
I’m in Seven’s bed.
I felt the shirt I wore. Not mine. Extra big, yet comfortable.
I’m wearing Seven’s shirt.
I drew closer to him as if on instinct, nuzzling against his warm skin. The masculine scent of him filled my senses, making my eyes droop. Now this was the spot. But the drowsiness didn’t last long, once my wandering hands found his thick forearms then the hills of his biceps. I stroked his arm, drawing in deep gulps of his scent. There was something about the darkness and the rustling of sheets that set me on edge, took me back to uglier times. But the visceral sensations, the hardness of him next to me, and the drugging scent of him combined to act a balm.
Maybe this is the time.
I clenched my thighs together. Part of the reason I’d drunk so much the night before was to ignore how badly I wanted Seven. Letting my brothers in on anything was a strict no-no, but in his bedroom, in his apartment, in the cobalt hues of morning? This was fair game.
Seven stirred but didn’t face me. I could tell he was awake, or at least rousing. I placed a soft kiss between his shoulder blades, then along the top of his shoulder. By the time I got to the top of his arm, he was turning to face me.
I could catch the dim outline of a smile. “Good morning.”
“Extra good morning,” I murmured as Seven brought me against him. His arms fit around me easily; I felt comically small in his embrace. His radiator-grade heat sank into me, making me dizzy. I nuzzled into his neck, moving against him, making my wishes known.
This seemed like the only chance I had. Not because there wouldn’t be other times, other opportunities. But because first times scared the fuck out of me, and there was something comforting about crossing that bridge the morning after a great night with friends and family.
I’d opened up so much to him—and him to me—that I’d gone nearly wild with desire. This had to happen. Now.
I pushed my hand down the side of his body until I found the waistband of his boxer briefs. I tugged on them gently. In response, Seven rolled on top of me, caging me against the bed. He looked even bigger in the shadowy room, a hulking giant on top of me. A twinge of panic erupted deep in my gut, but I ignored it. This was safe. I was safe. I wanted this.
“You want this, huh?” Seven’s cock was fully hard—and pressed against the crotch of my panties. He rocked against me in a slow, controlled motion, his cock nudging my clit. The pleasure that erupted fizzled quickly. I squeezed my eyes shut, counseling myself through the bad memories that were clamoring for air.
I was safe. This was Seven’s bedroom. This wasn’t my ex-boyfriend’s shitty apartment outside Louisville. I swallowed hard, dragging my fingers along his biceps, bringing myself back to the moment.
“I do,” I whispered, praying my body would catch up once things progressed a little further. It had been so long since I’d tried to have sex with anyone, I felt like a virgin by default. But I was determined to see this through. He turned me on just by breathing in the same room as me. I didn’t want the assholes of my past to still be robbing me of moments like this one with a man like Seven.
Come on. You can do this. This is the time.
I clutched his biceps, my nails digging in. Seven nuzzled the hollow of my neck, soft kisses trailing down my skin and over the T-shirt. He bunched the fabric up, his lips meeting my belly. I focused on how hot his lips felt against my skin, how much I’d been fantasizing about this moment. And here it was—happening. At last.
And all you can think about is how your fuckwad ex pinned you to a bed like this one, on a morning like this one, and had his way with you until you were sobbing and ruined.
I gritted my teeth as his kisses danced along the edge of my panties. I focused on long, even breaths. Seven wasn’t going to pin me here. Seven was sweet, he was aware…and he was removing my underwear in a forceful tug.
I felt his body weight shift. My panties were gone. And then he was back on top of me. When he tried to open my legs, I realized how rigid they’d become. Seven paused, dragging his fingertips over my hip.
“What’s going on, Jordan?” Concern filled his voice. “Why are you so tense?”
The simple question felt like a rock against the aquarium glass of my emotions. My breath hitched, then suddenly the tears came. Shame flooded me, and I tore myself out from underneath him, racing to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and stumbled over to the closed toilet seat, collapsing. My head fell into my hands and I cried, my entire body electrified and confused.
That wasn’t how the first time between me and Seven was supposed to go. And now, I’d outed myself. My shameful truth. I was mortified—he’d discovered just how sensitive I was, what a phony I was. I spent my nights at the club acting liberated and powerful in my sexuality, when the truth was that I was still a teenager ruled by bad memories.
I could turn on any guy in the world, but I couldn’t fuck how I wanted. What did that make me?
A soft knock sounded at the door. “Jordan?”
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down even a little bit. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I’m just hungover,” I said, my throat thick with tears.
The knob jiggled. A moment later, the door swung open. He stepped into the bathroom, an olive-skinned mountain of muscle with washboard abs and deep concern filling his brown eyes. For a moment, we were suspended in time, his crushing confusion nearly choking me.
Then time snapped, and he was at my feet. Scooping me into his arms, pulling me into his lap as he sank onto the bathroom floor against the wall.
“What’s going on?” His voice was a reassuring murmur at my ear.
I buried my face in his chest, a few more sobs escaping. “I’m sorry. That’s not how I wanted any of that to happen.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” His big hand swirled comfortingly against my back. “I just need to know that you’re okay.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist, nuzzling against him. The tears still flowed, but some of my rational mind was returning. He was genuinely concerned, not just following me in here to finish the fuck. This wasn’t about his pleasure or him getting off. He actually wanted to see that I was okay.
And if I hadn’t been in love with him before, I was now.
I melted a little more against him, until I could hear his heartbeat. I listened until my breathing regulated and the tears were dry. He didn’t prod me. He just held me.
“I have a hard time with first times,” I whispered after what felt like an hour on the bathroom floor. “And I haven’t had a first time in a long time, because of how hard it is.”
He stroked my hair, not saying a word.
“Something about the room…and the darkness…” I swallowed hard, not wanting to immortalize the details. “I know we’re nowhere near where the bad things happened, but I-I just…”
“It’s okay.” He placed a kiss on the top of my head. “You don’t have to explain. You’re safe with me.”
“Thank you.” I squeezed him as tightly as I could.
“I’m sorry for putting you in an unfamiliar room when you were drunk,” he said a moment later. “I should have known better.”
“There’s no way you could have known I’d...react like that.”
“Do you have any other triggers I should know about?” He asked it softly, as if he’d almost thought better of it.
I shook my head. “It’s first times. And it’s dark rooms. I just don’t have a good track record with them.” I swallowed hard, thinking back to the moment the fear clicked into place. “Your bedroom wall color is almost the exactly the same as my ex’s.”
“I’m so sorry.” This time, he was the one to squeeze me in a tight hug. My eyes drifted shut. If it weren’t for the painful awareness that we were cuddling on a bathroom floor, I could have fallen asleep against his warm skin.
A long time went by before he said, “Do you have names?”
“What do you mean?”
“For who hurt you. I need to know names.”
I swallowed hard, touched by the gesture. “You don’t have to—”
“Jordan, yes I do.” He trailed this thumb along my jaw, until it pressed into my chin. “Because you’re mine, whether you realize it or not.”