Chapter 21 – Jordan
TWENTY-ONE
JORDAN
I make out Jaxon’s question around the closing of the passenger door. Stuck to the pavement, the rain like glue, I stare at him through the window. The green eyes I lost myself in earlier stare back at me, the shades like ships fighting in a typhoon.
What if I want you to kiss me again?
It rings in my head, over the crescendo of rain hitting the pavement.
Droplets cling to my lashes. Heavy, I blink them away and when I reopen, Jaxon’s standing in front of me. His white cropped shirt molds to his torso. The fabric finds every crevice and dip of muscle to secure itself to.
“Tell me”—he runs a hand through his grown out hair, the ends becoming wavy—“to kiss you again.”
“Jaxon—”
“Please, Blue.”
We’re both drenched. The light gray of my tank is now the color of steel, and my bones are cold from the chill in the rain.
“I’ll stand here till you do. Tell me to kiss you.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Jaxon huffs out a desperate laugh. “Because I knew that if I kissed you, I’d never be able to stop. You’re the oxygen I need to survive. I want—I need to kiss you, but I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. I don’t want to—”
“Fine, if you have to,” I say but he must not hear me.
“—force you to do anything that you don’t want to do.”
“Goddamnit, kiss me, Greene!” I raise my voice, taking a step toward him.
Jaxon seizes my mouth, fervently kissing me.
We both must have the same idea. Large hands circle my waist, hoisting me up against him. Jaxon walks us up the stairs to the main doors.
“ID is in the side zipper pocket of my bag.” I force out between kisses.
Jaxon turns, securing me between him and the brick exterior. He drops his hands to fish out my ID and keys. The movement scrapes my back against the wall like a match on a match box. It does nothing to settle the growing ache between my legs.
Because of the water, it takes several taps for my ID to scan.
I shove the key into my dorm door, throwing it open. Jaxon drops my bag in the kitchenette, simultaneously setting me down.
“Arms up,” he instructs.
He peels my damp tank over my head while I toe off my sneakers. My leggings are barely discarded before I’m back in his arms and pressed up against the suite wall.
Jaxon doesn’t seem to notice that I’m naked—I’ve never loved underwear lines with leggings, and built-in bras are life saver.
Anchored to the wall, my breasts press into his shirt, callused hands scrape and explore up my torso, over sensitive and alert skin, and into my hair.
Getting caught in the rain already messing up my entire hair washing schedule—I washed it yesterday—but I don’t care.
I claw at his shoulders, work myself over his muscular thighs.
Jaxon senses my desperation, shifting his knee higher and bringing one hand to my bare waist to assist in my oncoming orgasm.
“Use me,” he whispers in my ear. “Use me however you need, however you want, Blue.”
“Kiss me,” I cry out, kissing the side of his mouth in an attempt to drag it back to me. My hands locked up in his hair.
He does as I ask, snaking his hand down my waist between us, finding my clit and pinching it. There are two things in life I’ve had to work hard for: hockey and an orgasm.
I’ve never been easily triggered. But here I am, dry humping my brother’s best friend and going off like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“Oh, god.” His kiss burns, and I force my head back, taking in air. I can feel with each breath my breasts molding themselves to him. A chant of yes and right there slips from my lips.
“Jaxon or Greene or—no, Jaxon will do. When I make you come, it’s my name you use.” His smirk does something to me. Furrows into my brain and bones, heats my core till I’m on the brink again. “That’s it,” he coos, not letting up on the pressure he’s applying.
“Oh my god,” I repeat, barely capable of holding back a second time.
He snickers, shaking his head. Lips press into the pulse point on my neck before he nips at the skin. “I told you. While it wouldn’t hurt for you to think of me as a god”—he plants a hot open-mouth kiss over the bite that has me squirming—“I just want to be your Jaxon.”
This time, when he touches my skin and pinches my clit, tears well in my eyes as I come for the second time in minutes. His name on my tongue.
Still pressed against the wall, limp in his arms, my forehead rests against his. I murmur breathlessly, “I wanted to kiss you again.”
“And this?” There’s no one else here. There’s no reason for either of us to be whispering, but we both do. Encased in a bubble I don’t want to pop because outside of here, there are too many reasons defining this as wrong.
“This too.”
“Good.” Jaxon lightly kisses the tip of my nose.
“I’m naked.” I giggle, and from where I peer at him through hooded lashes, I see a flash go off in his eyes. A blink of his lashes as if he’s taking a mental picture.
“Well, the fuck aware, Blue,” he growls out. “I’m trying to convince myself you aren’t always completely naked under your clothes.”
“And what if I am? Would that make you jealous?” A feral growl-like noise comes from his throat. “Not always, but the one time I do, the guy doesn’t even look.”
Jaxon tips his head back, blowing out a pained exhale.
His eyes are pinched shut, hands grip my waist tighter.
“Tell me that’s what you want and I will.
Say yes, and I won’t only look, but worship.
” He says the words with a desperation I can feel ripple through his body. “Tell me I can worship you.”
“Please.” I need him to look at me. I dance my fingers up his jaw and into his hair, using the leverage to right his neck. Jaxon opens his eyes, but they don’t wander from mine. “Jaxon, please.”
I’ve always prided myself on not being a pick-me girl.
Being surrounded by professional athletes growing up, and now attending a college where hockey players are on a pedestal, I’ve seen women throw themselves at men.
Tear each other down for one night or make fools of themselves for someone in a happy and healthy relationship.
Watched for years as Jaxon was swarmed by them, vying for any attention he’d give them.
And does it make me any better? Because right now I’d do anything for him.
“Is that what you want?” He leans in to where I can see his blown-out pupils, rivers of lust-filled green flowing behind them.
“Yes.” The word barely escapes before we’re kissing again, just as the door opens.
“Oh. My. God.” Xanie gasps. “I would say about time, but your timing is terrible. Cooper’s parking in the lot.”