10. Jordan
Chapter Ten
Jordan
We walked slowly, side by side, like neither of us wanted the night to end. My flat was ten minutes away, which I’d casually told her earlier, but I wasn’t in a rush to get there. Not even close.
The city had settled into that low, mid-summer hush, all dusky light and long shadows. The kind of evening that makes everything feel just a little more possible.
I kept my hands shoved in my pockets because If I didn’t, I might have reached for hers. I was trying my hardest not to come on too strong — which, with her, was a full-time job.
Every few steps, her shoulder brushed mine.
Lightly, barely there, but I felt the tingle of every single one.
She was smaller than I’d realised earlier.
Next to my six-two frame, she fit neatly at my side, all warmth and trouble in one small, impossible-to-ignore package.
And walking beside her like this…yeah, it was killing me.
The scent of her perfume, the way she’d absentmindedly swipe on her lip balm over her full pink lips, like she had no idea what it did to me. And then there was that fucking dress. Walking beside her like this, it was a miracle I could even think straight.
God help me, I wanted to kiss her senseless. But I didn’t want to fuck this up, either.
Because for all the jokes, and smiles, and that red dress that was already living rent free in my brain, I now knew she’d been through something.
She hadn’t shared it for sympathy, but she’d shared it with me nonetheless.
She’d been married, betrayed. And she was rebuilding.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it, how anyone could have her and still go looking for more.
So yeah, maybe my body was pulsating, maybe I’d spent half the dinner trying not to stare at her mouth, but I wasn’t going to push.
But Christ, did I want her.
“Thanks for walking with me,” she said softly. “Didn’t fancy chancing a cab outside that restaurant.”
I huffed out a laugh. “No worries. My place is just here, anyway. I’d rather you got the Uber from here, so I know you’re safe.”
She pulled out her phone, opened the Uber app, and frowned. “Forty-minute wait,” she muttered, groaning. “What the hell?”
I smirked. “I blame the tennis groupies.”
She rolled her eyes, sighed, and shoved her phone back in her bag.
That’s when it hit me—there was no way I could let her wait out here alone. And I sure as hell didn’t fancy standing on the street for almost an hour, either. The idea of having her with me longer? Yeah, that lit me up more than I wanted to admit.
Still, I hesitated. This could go one of two ways. She could take it as a casual invite, or she could think I was trying to get her upstairs into bed. Which, okay, I wouldn’t exactly complain about, but it wasn’t the point. I just…wanted more time with her.
I rubbed the back of my neck, tried not to overthink it, but failed completely.
“You know…” I said, “you could always come up for a cuppa while you wait. Apparently I make a mean Earl Grey.”
Earl bloody Grey.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Her brows lifted just slightly, like I’d thrown her off balance. Not in a bad way, more like she hadn’t expected me to offer. Those blue eyes flicked over my face, searching for…something.
I braced myself for the rejection of the no thank you, but instead, she tilted her head and smiled, just a little.
“Well,” she said, stepping toward me, “Earl Grey happens to be my favourite.”
I swear my heart did a full-body slam into my ribcage.
I blinked at her, stunned. “Yeah?”
She just kept smiling, all sure of herself. No playing it cool. She’d made her choice.
And now I had to fucking hold it together.
I opened the door, holding it for her like it was the most natural thing in the world, even though my pulse was absolutely battering the inside of my veins. She stepped past me with half a smile, her hair brushing my arm.
I watched her climb the first step. God help me, that arse was making me want to peel that dress off with my teeth. Make her forget anyone else had ever touched her.
But not unless she wanted that, too.
And so, yeah. I followed quietly because if I said anything, she might have backed out.
But with every single step upstairs, I was praying like hell that I could keep my hands to myself for forty more minutes.