Chapter 23
Shelley
The makeshift blindfold and the music on Jordan’s playlist have helped to calm the chaos in my brain, so now I can concentrate on the way he’s touching me.
It only takes three songs before a slow heat spreads through my body, and I think I’m about to shatter on his tongue.
But then the building release fades into nothing.
I’m so frustrated with myself I think I might start to cry.
Sensing the shift in me, Jordan sits back on his heels. “You okay?”
“I’m so sorry. I was almost there,” I explain. “I know this is taking forever. You don’t have to keep going.”
Jordan rises to meet me, holding himself in a push-up position over my body while he growls low in my ear. “Stop apologizing. We’re in the middle of the best night of my life. I’m exactly where I want to be, and I’ll stay on my knees for you for as long as you let me. Do you still feel good?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not stopping.”
And he doesn’t. Twice more the gentle wave starts to crest before disappearing into nothing. Finally, I resign to accept that there is no finish line and I can sink into the enjoyment of his touch.
That’s when it hits me out of nowhere. Every muscle tenses, right down to my toes, and I gasp loudly.
The groan that comes out of him as he laps up my release is the hottest sound I’ve ever heard. I laugh as a tear of relief slides down my cheek.
My body actually responded. I’m in shock.
“Oh my god. You did it. I did it. We did it. I wasn’t sure that could happen.
” I pant, barely recognizing the sense of awe and wonder in my own voice.
Jordan wipes my tear away with one finger.
“That was amazing,” I tell him. “Thank you. I’m so happy. And you—”
“Are still not finished.”
◆◆◆
He’s insatiable. Jordan kept me awake almost the entire night, not that I’m complaining. We didn’t make it past third base, but I’ll never forget the things he whispered while he made me come once more with his fingers. Then he let me use my hands on him.
We drifted off briefly, snuggled together on the cramped bottom bed, and woke up this morning with sore necks and backs. Totally worth it. And for the record, I was right. After spending last night in his arms, I’m completely gone for him.
We had an early plane to catch, so both of us slept during the whole flight back to D.C. We’re finally starting to look a little less like zombies, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself, by the time we deboard the plane and make our way out to the gate.
“I’m starving,” Jordan complains from behind me as he drags a rolling suitcase in each hand because he insists on carrying mine along with his own.
I flick the brim of his backwards cap and tease, “You poor thing. Did I not feed you well enough last night?”
“Oh, you definitely did. I’m never washing this beard again. It was like a baptism.”
“Gross.” But he has me laughing. “There’s a Wing Pit around the corner here.
” I point, directing him toward one of my favorite casual dining options, but I stop short because of the commotion.
An entire film crew is posted outside the restaurant.
But it still appears to be open and seating other patrons, so we continue, dodging the cameras.
Then I see her. “Oh my god. That’s Stacy Haverson! ”
I freeze, barely remembering to breathe. It feels like all the wind has been knocked out of me. She’s here. In the flesh. Barely ten feet away, with a face covered in wing sauce as they film what must be an upcoming social media challenge, according to the huge hashtag posters displayed behind her.
“What’s going on?” Jordan comes to a halt just before bumping into me.
I can’t answer because I’m completely fixated on watching my favorite athlete demolish the two buckets of wings set out in front of her, but I do notice when Jordan takes a step back.
“This line is insane. It’s going to be a while before it dies down. I’m going to go grab a sub from over there,” he offers, pointing across the terminal. “You want one?”
I nod at him, only half paying attention, and turn back to watching Stacy.
She seems to be finished at least one bucket of wings already.
Jordan leaves my suitcase by my side and heads toward the Sub Shack.
Pulling out my phone, I quickly snap a photo to send to the sisters group chat before I check Stacy’s social media feed.
It turns out, the challenge is to eat one hundred chicken wings and a large side of curly fries in under an hour, and she finishes at the forty-seven-minute mark.
The small crowd claps, and most people disperse to go about the rest of their day.
Stacy excuses herself to the restroom to wash her hands, and I stay behind to see if she’d be willing to take a selfie or sign the tank top I’ve pulled out of my suitcase.
As I’m waiting, Jordan returns.
“There you are,” I say. “Do you want to split some wings now that it’s not so busy?”
“Nah, it’s okay.” He shakes his head, holding up his sandwich. “I got you buffalo chicken, since that seems to be the theme today.”
I thank him and tell him I’d like to stay to meet Stacy, if she’s available.
“Sure. Do you want me to go with you?”
“If you want to.”
He chuckles. “You want to have your fangirl moment alone, don’t you?” When I don’t argue, he says, “It’s cool. I’ll just be waiting over there.” He points at the airport lounge chairs sitting further down the corridor.
“Okay. Thank you.” I nod at him and make my way over to the short line of people now waiting. Stacy graciously takes her time with everyone who wants to say hi, but it only takes a few minutes until my turn comes.
“Hi, I’m Michelle Miller. You can call me Shelley. That was amazing! I’ve been watching you online for years, but seeing it in person was something else,” I gush at her.
She smiles politely, one hand resting on her very full and now protruding belly. “Nice to meet you, Shelley. Thank you so much for following my journey. Are you a competitive eater, too?”
“Oh, no. Just a big fan. Do you think you could sign my shirt, please?”
Her face lights up when I hand it over. “Oh my gosh, you really are an O.G. fan, aren’t you? This is from my very first line of merch.”
I nod. “I know. I think you only had about three hundred followers when I subscribed to your channel.” She’s up to almost a million now. Stacy happily signs my shirt, and we pose for a photo, which she asks for permission to share on her own social channels.
I’m beaming as we say goodbye and I return to the chairs where Jordan is waiting.
“She was so nice,” I tell him.
He smiles and stands to collect his luggage before handing me a plastic bag with my sub in it. “That’s awesome. I’m glad you got to meet her.”
Before everything that happened yesterday, I would have thought meeting Stacy would be the highlight of this trip. But now this memory has some intense competition. Maybe Jordan wasn’t exaggerating when he said last night was the best one of his life. I think I know how he feels.
“So…I guess this is goodbye for now?” I’m disappointed it’s time to part ways, but I won’t dwell on it too much because I’m still riding the high of meeting my favorite celebrity. Besides, it won’t be long before I see Jordan again. By this time next week, we’re going to be neighbors.
“For now.” He moves in close, threading his fingers through my hair while I look up at him. “But we’ll still have the phone. That’s what started all of this, after all.”
“I guess I’m better at leaving voicemails than I thought,” I tease.
“I won’t argue with that. I’m looking forward to talking to you tonight.” His lips graze my ear as he whispers. “You can tell me what you liked about last night, and what you want to try next time.”
I manage to contain the shiver his words send through me. “I could probably fill a book with that information.”
He laughs. “Yeah?”
“Well, at least a long email,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Oh, I’m definitely going to hold you to that. I really want to see this email.”
“I can do that. But only if you write one, too.”
“Deal.” He squeezes me in an intimate hug.
“Then I guess you better let me go home and start typing,” I say, poking his side as he releases me.
He nods, and his hands rest on my hips as he leans in again. Our goodbye kiss feels more like a new beginning.