Chapter 43 Jordan
jordan
“Say what now?” I drop my bags to the floor in shock while she calmly walks through her apartment like she didn’t just tell me we are going to be sleeping in the same bed. Yikes bikes.
“I said, you’re sleeping in my bed. None of this couch shit. You’re in the playoffs. You need good sleep. I’m not sure of my mattress quality compared to yours, but it’s at least better than my sofa cushions. So,” —she turns to face me— “you’re sleeping with me.”
For the love of all things Elle Woods did she just say I’m sleeping with her? My heart pounds in my chest like a drum line directing the signals to my dick at full speed. I need to find a way to calm this down, or sleeping in a bed with her is going to be torture.
“Kennedy…I thought we talked about how,” —I gesture my hands between us— “you can’t control yourself around me.”
She takes a step toward the door, and the déjà vu hits me full force.
Except this time her eyes rake up and down my entire body, my pants are ungodly tight with no hiding the full-on erection I have, and fuck if she doesn’t stare right at it as she continues to stalk closer Why is this woman always walking toward me like I’m her goddamn last meal? !
“Well, I’m not having a security detail and, apparently, you’re not leaving,” she murmurs, moving forward another step.
“If you want to stay here with me and, as you say, keep each other safe, this is my rule.” Her voice is a whisper against my lips, before she leans to the side and picks up one of my duffels.
Goddamn this woman and her witchcraft. “Grab the rest of your stuff and bring it into my bedroom, pretty-boy, before I drag you and your bags in here with me.”
Holy fucking fuckballs. If my dick wasn’t trying to escape my pants before, it sure as hell is now. I nearly trip as I pick up my bag as fast as possible and follow her vanilla scent, tracking her like a K-9 unit meticulously trained for search and rescue.
My pulse throbs in my throat, the mix of her beauty and her take-charge attitude intoxicating. My tongue wets my lips. I’m fully drunk on Kennedy Kramer. And I never want to be sober again.
She tosses my bag in the corner near the closet as I timidly set my other next to it, the thud echoing off the hardwood floor.
I made sure to pack enough to stay for several days without having to run home.
I am dying to take her to my house someday.
To show her more of myself and my personality, but I wanted her to be comfortable.
I thought this would be better. My eyes blur, spots dancing along the edge of my vision.
And now she’s ordering me to sleep with her.
And while Downstairs Jordan is ready and firing all cylinders, a heavyweight pulls me back down, making it hard to take in air.
She’s not her. She’s not trying to trick you.
Kennedy is everything that’s good in the world. Angelica was everything that’s bad. I take in a deep breath, forcing the shaking in my hands to still.
“You, okay? You look a little pale?”
“Yeah…I’m…I’m fine. I just…”
“Hey.” She turns me gently to face her, her fingers warm against my skin. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I can behave.”
I laugh louder than I should. “It’s not that. I just…I haven’t slept in a bed with a woman since Cruella.”
She snorts at the nickname for the woman who nearly ruined my life, my muscles relaxing at the sound. “If it bothers you that much, I can sleep on the couch.”
“One-hundo percent no. This is your place, Kenni. You’re sleeping in your own bed.”
Her lips tip up at the corners, her smile shyly crawling across her face as her gaze softly drifts into mine. “You called me Kenni.”
I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call—”
“It’s okay,” she reassures me. “I like it. That’s what my friends call me.”
I take a deep breath, realizing I’m not in trouble. But the pang of disappointment hits my chest. “Friends. Right. We’re friends. Fake dating friends.”
She cocks her head as she dissolves the distance, her chest touching mine. “Exactly. We’re just…friends. But…” she says in a long, drawn-out, singsong voice. “I’ve been thinking.”
I suck in a sharp breath. Her lips are right there, so close to mine I can nearly taste them. “You have?”
“Mm hmm. Since we’re friends, and friends help each other out, what if I can help prove you wrong?”
“Wha…what? Wrong about what?”
“That you’re bad in bed.”
Shit on a fucking hockey stick. Is she implying what I think she is?
That we? Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. My lungs burn like I just inhaled pepper spray.
I need air. I can’t breathe. Find the air in the room, Jordan, and breathe.
It. In. I take a breath, barely enough to calm my nerves, let alone speak.
“And how…” I clear my throat and continue, “how would we do that?”
“We practice,” she responds like she’s telling me tomorrow’s weather forecast, meanwhile, my eyes expand wider than this big ass apartment.
“Come again?” I squeak. Does she know what she’s implying? We’re not practicing pickleball dinks and volleys. This is like…sex stuff.
She smirks. “You’re a fantastic kisser. What if you’re fantastic at other things too?
You are ridiculously talented at hockey.
You perform as if you were born to stand out.
I’m just saying there’s a pattern here. But I want you to know that I’m not doing this to trick or hurt you.
We wouldn’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.
I just thought since we’re fake dating and living in the same apartment, per your request,” she says, poking a finger at my chest, “why not have some fun and help you along the way.”
My chest rises and falls rapidly at her words, her touch. “Kennedy, I don’t want you to do this out of pity.”
“This is not pity,” she says sharply. “Look. You’re worried about not being good, so who better to test that with than your fake girlfriend? The one who happens to be attracted to you.” My eyes bounce between hers, her words almost making sense. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to freak you out, but I need you to pick a safe word. Not because we’re doing anything crazy, not yet, but I want you to feel comfortable. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now, what’s your safe word?”
My eyes go wide. Fuck. I never in my life thought I would need a safe word. Isn’t that some 50 Shades shit? But the way she’s making sure I’m comfortable makes my heart melt and my dick leak. “Frites.”
She lets out a wicked laugh. “Frites, huh?”
I shrug. “It’s just what came to mind.”
“It’s perfect,” she says softly, placing a hand on my cheek. “If you need to stop, you say frites, and we stop. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She steps back and removes her T-shirt, casually holding it out to the side, before letting it slowly drop to the floor.
My mouth dries as she removes her leggings.
Kennedy Kramer is standing in front of me in nothing but a bra and panties.
Seeing her like this—the smooth curve of her hips, the glow of her skin, the soft curls falling across her bare shoulders as she shakes them free—has me seeing stars.
I. Am. Unwell.
“Give me your hand.”
I respond immediately, my hand unsteady.
She places my palm on her shoulder, gently guiding it down between her cleavage.
I feel her eyes on my face, but I can’t tear my stare away from our intertwined fingers.
She drags our joined hands further down her abdomen, placing them directly between her legs.
Her panties are fucking soaked. I suck in a shuddering breath as she rubs our hands across the wet fabric, pressing my fingers against her.
“Does this feel like I pity you? Does this feel like I’m doing this as a favor?” she asks as I shake my head. “Or does this feel like I want you? Like I want you as badly as you want me?”
“Fuck.”
She takes her free hand and tips my chin up, forcing me to look directly in her eyes as my heart threatens to beat out of my goddamn chest.
“You didn’t answer my question. Does this feel like I want you?”
“Y-yes, you’re…” I swallow. “You’re so wet.”
She presses my hand into her even harder. “This is what you do to me, pretty-boy.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Kennedy. I’m going to come in my pants if you don’t stop.”
She flashes me a sultry smirk. “Do you know how hot it would be if you came in your pants? You not being able to control yourself around me? That’s hot as fuck.”
“If you keep doing this, your wish will come true.”
“Good,” she says with a wink. A goddamn wink! “Now fucking kiss me, pick me up, and take me to bed.”
She barely finishes her sentence before my lips crash against hers. Fucking hell, this woman. I’m more nervous than being in an opening face-off, but I feel it down to my core that I can trust her.
I lift her up, not breaking our kiss, and grab her ass, groaning against her mouth as her legs wrap around my waist. My knees bump into her bed, and I gently set her down, hovering over her and kissing her like my life depends on it.
My skin buzzes, my vision blurs. I’m completely consumed by the woman underneath me. I’m not fucking sure how I stop myself.
My chest tightens as my brain catches up to all this. It’s still so new and—I want to, need to, take this slow. I roll over to the side, needing to take a breath.
“Kenni…I just…I need a little break. This is…God, it feels so good, but it’s so overwhelming.”
“Jordan. Look at me,” she says, sitting up to face me. “We’ll go as slow as you want. There’s no pressure here. But…” Her tongue traces her bottom lip. “I have an idea.”