16. Jordan #3
“God,” she moaned. “Jordan…”
“That’s it,” I growled. “I love the way you say my name. Say it like you know my cock’s so deep you’ll feel me for days.”
She whimpered, wrecked. “Jordan…don’t stop…I’m so close again…”
I lost it.
“Yeah you fucking are. So am I, babe.”
I drove into her, every thrust a promise I didn’t have words for. I wasn’t trying to just fuck her, I was trying to mark her. To leave something behind in every place I touched. I couldn’t have stopped even if I’d tried. I didn’t want to.
It was messy and filthy. More intense than anything I’d ever felt. Maybe it was because she wasn’t afraid to ask for what she needed. Or maybe it was because she’d lived a life before me, one that had left a piece missing that I wanted to fill.
She clung to me like she didn’t want to let go. I moved like I wanted to write my name into her skin.
And when she came again, loudly, calling my name like a fucking prayer, I followed with her, my body locking, stuttering hard as I buried myself to the hilt.
After, I collapsed onto her, both of us trembling, hearts banging out of rhythm like we’d just survived something. My forehead pressed against her, but I had no words. Just the feeling of whatever this was between us.
Hours later, the sweat had cooled on our skin, the adrenaline finally ebbing.
The sheets were a mess around us, tangled like they’d tried to keep up with us and failed.
I pulled her into my side, still needing the feel of her bare skin against mine.
The reassurance that she was really here, that I hadn’t imagined any of it.
My arm lay across her waist, hand tucked beneath her ribs where I could feel every uneven breath she took.
She was warm, steadying, and I didn’t want to let a single inch of space open up between us.
I closed my eyes for a second and despite being right next to me, there she was again. Head thrown back. Lips parted. The sound she made when I drove her past the point of no return. Her perfect legs locked around me, pulling me deeper, holding me there.
Tonight had been obscene. I’d never been with anyone like this. Just when we thought we were done, we kept coming back for more.
Jesus.
I buried my face in her neck, her skin still hot and slick from the aftermath, and drew in a breath like I could brand her scent into me. That vanilla and warmth was something I’d never escape, not that I ever wanted to.
Her fingers moved absently over my chest, tracing little shapes like she wasn’t even aware she was doing it.
We didn’t speak; we didn’t have to. The quiet was already thick with us.
After a while I shifted, just enough to see her properly.
Her hair was a mess in the best way, lips swollen, cheek pressed to my shoulder.
A fever dream that looked like it could also be my future all at once.
I brushed my knuckles along her jaw, my pulse thrumming like I was about to step out on Centre Court.
The words broke loose before I could stop them.
“I’ve completely lost the plot over you, haven’t I? ”
For half a beat, I almost wished I could pull them back. But then she looked up at me, a shy little smile tugging at her mouth. “Little bit, yeah.”
Relief and hunger tangled in my chest, a rush so sharp it almost hurt.
I let out a laugh, kissing her shoulder. “Three days. That’s all it’s been, and it doesn’t even feel real.”
“Maybe it’s not,” she murmured. “Maybe we’re both hallucinating from all the phenomenal sex.” The words caught in her throat and she blushed. Hearing her say it aloud was enough to make my body tighten all over again.
My grin curved slow, deliberate. “You hallucinate like that often?”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Sadly, no. This was definitely a first.”
“Good.” I caught her hand and threaded our fingers together, anchoring her there against me. “Because I want to ruin you for anyone else.”
“Jesus, Taylor.” She shook her head laughing, but she didn’t move away.
“You’re in my head, Kate.” The words came out rougher than I meant, scraped raw by the truth of them. “I’m supposed to be thinking about Reed, about my serve, about bloody footwork…and all I can hear is you. The way you sounded last night. How you say my name when you come for me.”
Her eyes flicked aside quickly, like I’d cracked something open she wasn’t ready to let me see.
“You should sleep,” she whispered against my lips. “Big day tomorrow.”
I pressed a kiss to her, lingering. “You’ll be there.”
Her gaze softened then, so much it stopped me cold.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
God, she meant it. I felt it in my chest, as sturdy as the bones beneath.
“You’re ridiculously needy for someone about to win a Wimbledon semi-final,” she teased, her smile curving now.
“Not needy,” I murmured, letting my hand trail lower until her breath hitched. “Obsessed. There’s a difference.” I leaned close, my mouth brushing her ear. “And if you think I’m letting you get any sleep after that, you’re dreaming, sweetheart.”