Undone

by Mia Kayla

  When I’d truly let go, only then had I experienced the full orgasmic experience.

  I liked this man, more than any other Tinder-swiping man I’d met or anyone I’d dated before.

  Jordan Ryder could very well be a keeper, and for once, I’d give in to the emotions I was feeling.

  We were both awake, and I doubted we would get any sleep. His fingers traced circles along my thigh, a touch I felt everywhere. More and more, the awkwardness between us fizzled. Lying next to him, in the silence, was so familiar; it felt so right, perfect, and complete.

  The sexual tension I usually felt in Jordan’s presence was dimmed by our openness and replaced by a nice, comfortable, full feeling—fully satisfied, happy, and elated.

  “Why hasn’t anybody snatched you up yet?” he asked in the dark. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

  I rested my chin on his chest, staring up at his baby blues. “How do you know I don’t?”

  Laughter rumbled through his chest and warmed me. “I’m serious,” he said, brushing his fingers through my dark locks.

  “I’m serious too.” My tone was devoid of any humor. In another life, I could’ve been an actress or a con artist.

  The moonlight shone through my window, highlighting the sharp planes of his jaw, his straight nose, the stubble under his chin.

  When his smile faltered, I poked at his side. “I’m kidding.”

  I was going to say I was too busy for a relationship, which was the typical excuse I gave Angie and my father and Nana or any other person around me. My mother probably thought no one would ever fall for me, but that was a different story entirely. When I’d been with Logan, even though life had been hectic and work had pulled me in all different directions, I’d made time because it was important, because I’d been in love.

  “I’m waiting for the right one,” I whispered, honesty leaking out of me.

  I could’ve put up a front, but what was the point? And with Jordan, I felt safe, like I didn’t have to pretend anymore. We’d crossed some boundary tonight, and I would try my hardest to move forward, not backward.

  He nodded, his eyes searching mine. “So, tell me about your ex. You know about mine.”

  I hated talking about my failed relationship even though I didn’t take the blame for it. Still, I liked to succeed in all aspects of life.

  “I wasn’t always this man-eater.” Nervous laughter escaped my lips, and I averted my stare, thinking of my last heartbreak. “You met him,” I said quietly. “Logan was my last relationship, and I was utterly in love with him. He worked in mortgage and financing, and we were a match made in real-estate heaven.”

  Pedigreed family, Ivy League degree. He’d been perfect. At least, I’d thought so.

  “But …” I paused, recalling memories that made my chest ache. “… our relationship was a lie.” Saying it out loud was like a punch in the face, a slice to my heart. I rolled my eyes like the breakup didn’t affect me, though it still hurt to think about it. “He was still in love with his old girlfriend, the girl who was with him when you met him.”

  He held me tighter and pulled me closer, which gave me the courage to continue. “I was the rebound girl who lasted a little too long, and I didn’t want to be the second choice anymore … so I left.”

  I bit my bottom lip and dropped my gaze. The memories bombarded my mind like scenes from a bad movie. “He promised me things—the future, that I was his one and only.” I rubbed at the center of my chest to dim the pain. “I thought we were it. Everyone thought we were it.” I held my breath. “And then I caught him cheating, which you know already.”

  The anger and betrayal I’d felt at first were replaced with utter devastation. I had put everything into my relationship with Logan. I’d invested time and energy and had given my heart to someone who had been only half in. I remembered denying it till the very moment I’d caught them with his dick in her mouth.

  “I’m sorry.” He tenderly kissed my forehead. “So, so sorry that you ever had to go through that.”

  “Don’t be. I had given him an out so many times. I asked a million times if he was still in love with her, and I realized he was lying to me when we accidentally bumped into her at a restaurant. It was written all over his face.”

  I was used to that look, the one that said, You’re not my number one. It was evident in my mother’s stare. The way she regarded Angie versus the way she glared at me. I worked my hardest to stay on top at my job, with my life, and I refused to settle for anything less. “Even then, I didn’t want to believe it. I think my bullshit radar had been blocked because I was so in love with him. It wasn’t until I was hit in the face with the image of them together, literally catching him with his pants down, that I realized we were over.”

  The air was thick with emotion, with our passion, with our broken past. There was no doubt that I’d had my share of heartbreak, and Jordan had his too. But his … his cut deeper.

  “Your turn,” I said, needing the attention off me and wanting to know more of his history. “Tell me about Candice.”

  His small smile tightened, and he looked past me, randomly playing with the ends of my hair.

  The change in his tone and the nostalgic vacancy in his eye told me he was thinking about her. And though it hurt me to hear, curiosity ate at my insides. I wanted to hear about her, know why he had been so enamored with her. I wanted to know what she’d had that every Victoria’s Secret model didn’t.

  The corner of his lips tipped upward like he recalled a memory. “She was kind, beautiful …” He tilted his head and then paused, eyeing me. “You know what? I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  I frowned. “Why not?”

  He held my chin within his fingertips. “Because I don’t and because you’ll think it’s more than it is.”

  My mouth slackened. “No, I won’t.” I motioned with my hand for him to continue. “Sometimes, Cade will talk about her, and I’ll get glimpses of how alike they were.”

  He laughed. “Yep, they were. She was a badass in a softer, gentler way.” His breathing slowed almost to a stop. “But she taught me real love. I had never experienced that before her. I never had parents who loved me or foster parents besides the Ryders who cared. They took me in, cared for me, adopted me.” His eyes turned glassy, and there was a look of longing and regret in his eyes that frightened me.

  “What happened?”

  He gulped hard. “You don’t know?”

  If he thought Angie had told me everything, she hadn’t. She’d given me hints into what had happened with Candice but not the whole story.

  That was part of Cade’s secret past that she never shared in full detail, only that an accident had taken Candice’s life and their father’s, leaving their mother paralyzed from the waist down.

  “She …” He inhaled deeply, and a shiver ran through him. “She killed herself.”

  The world stopped, and I became vividly aware of my surroundings—his body next to mine, the blast of my air conditioner in the background, the peeking of the moonlight through my windows. I wanted him to repeat it because a freak accident had taken Cade’s sister, Jordan’s old girlfriend. Not this. The wind was knocked out of my lungs, and my sharp intake of breath cut through the room.

  “She was so high that she drove into oncoming traffic on the other side of the road, killing our father in the process.” He closed his eyes and rested his arm against his forehead. “She physically died that night, but her life had been taken way before that—by the asshole who’d attacked her. She had a stalker at school. Real messed up kid obsessed with her. When I found out, it was too late.”

  His body began to tremble, and I wrapped my arms around him, to minimize the ache, to warm the chill.

  “After that attack, she was never the same. She tried to dull the pain with drugs, alcohol, anything she could get her hands on. I tried my hardest to help her, but I wasn’t enough.” His voice shook, and his body tensed, his muscles tight like a wir
e. “I almost killed that fucker,” he spat out. “If it wasn’t for Wyatt putting himself between us, I would have shown that douche his maker, the Devil himself.”

  And he’d have been locked up at the end of it.

  He clenched his fist, his eyes narrowed as though the person who had taken Candice’s life was physically in the room. I cuddled closer, wanting to erase his pain, his horrific memories.

  “I hate talking about it. Every time I do, it brings me to a dark place I’d like to forget.”

  “I’m sorry.” My hands moved up and down his shoulders in a comforting motion. My pain was nothing compared to his, what he’d endured as a child in the foster system, what he’d endured with Candice.

  I kissed the tender part of his neck and rested my head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek. “I get it. Not wanting to talk about things. You’re like the king of avoidance, and I know how that is because I’m the queen.”

  “Yeah.” His breathing was steady, slow, normal now. “Is that why you avoid any questions about you and your mom?”

  I sighed. “She hates me. That’s what’s up.”

  He pulled me up, so I was straddling him and angled his head toward me to meet my lips. “She can’t possibly hate you. Who could hate you?”

  I smiled. “She’s the one exception.”

  “You’re always on the defense with her,” he carefully pointed out.

  “No, I’m not!” I cringed when the words flew out of my mouth because those exact words sounded defensive. “Nothing I do is good enough.”

  “Has she uttered those words exactly?”

  My eyebrows pulled together. “No, but …”

  “But nothing. Listen to her next time. Listen to the questions she asks you: Were you guys hanging out? Was Christene showing you around? Do you think you can rent Wells after filming?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I countered.

  “That might not be what you heard, but it’s exactly what I heard.”

  I shifted from his hold, wanting to get off him. He didn’t believe me. No one did. I was always the one being blamed.

  Ease up on your mother. Why do you have to take that tone with her? My father’s and Angie’s voices rang loudly in my ears.

  Now, Jordan was on board.

  “I’m done talking about my mother.”

  Everyone was trying to fix our relationship, but the problem was, it couldn’t be fixed. I’d tried to please the woman, wanting and needing her affection, but at some point, I had given up. There was no saving us now, just living through it.

  He pulled me closer and cupped my cheeks. “Just listen, baby.”

  I loved how he called me his baby, like that one term of endearment could melt me into a puddle of mush.

  “Listen next time to what she’s asking you, and before you blow up, just answer her question. Have you ever wondered if maybe she takes that tone with you because you take that same tone with her?”

  I pulled his hands from my face. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about her anymore.” I filed through my memories, trying to recall a time when my mother and I were okay, where there wasn’t this tug-of-war always between us, but I came up short. I simply couldn’t remember.

  He licked the seam of my lips. “Fine with me. I don’t want to talk about my ex-girlfriend anymore, either.”

  I thought we were going to have a long, drawn-out make-out session, but he pecked me one last time before pulling me against his chest and tugging the covers up to encase us in. I nestled against him, my head by the crook of his neck. We were totally nooking, and I was enjoying every bit of it this time.

  “Sleep, pretty girl.” He gently guided me to my side and spooned me from behind. “Just sleep.”

  And I did. I slept soundly for the first time in what seemed like forever and had the best dreams that night.

  Chapter 21

  The sheets rustled against my legs, and the chill of the morning cut through my bones. My hands felt along the space beside me, looking for warmth, but when my eyes slowly opened, I realized that Jordan was nowhere to be found. Half the sheets were on the floor, the rest at the corner of the bed, on my ankles. I did sleep like a crazy person. Sometimes, my bed would be disrobed, the fitted sheets and down comforter on the floor. One time, I had seen them chucked across the room, as though I’d gotten up in the middle of the night and thrown them, baseball-style.

  I sat up on the bed when the scent of food filtered through my room.

  Mmm, bacon grease.

  I inhaled deeply, slipped on a T-shirt and shorts, and strolled into the kitchen to find Mr. Domesticated cooking by the stove. His bare back and all his muscles and ink were on display for me to drool and ogle and admire.

  Is this a dream? Because I could stay here forever.

  He hadn’t heard me come in because he was belting a Britney Spears song that was playing on my iPad.

  All I did was grin at the scene. There was no urge to flee or jump off the balcony at the sight of him in my kitchen. Not today.

  I approached, hugged him from behind, and kissed his shoulder. “What’s cooking, good-looking?” I asked.

  He met my morning-breath lips with a chaste kiss. My hair was a matted mess, and I had no makeup on, but I didn’t care because this … we … felt right for once.

  His sexy-ass smirk was on display. “I’ve got the sausage. You’ve got the eggs?”

  He kissed my neck, turning to wrap his arms around me.

  “You have a bit of underlying dork in you. Did you know that?” I chuckled.

  His face lit up, and then he playfully pinched my side. “Never been called that before, but I’ll be your dork.” He swatted my butt. “Go set the table, woman. Breakfast is almost done.”

  I sauntered to his left and stood on my tiptoes to reach for the dishes on the top shelf. My pajama shorts hitched up where my cheeks were almost hanging out, and I pushed out my bottom a little, hoping to catch some blue-eyed boy’s attention. My T-shirt drifted higher, revealing a little of my waist, and I bit my lip to hide my smile.

  I could feel his eyes searing through my skin, scanning the backs of my legs and the span of bare skin at my waist.

  He groaned, turned off the stove, and pushed me against the counter in one swift movement. His front toward my back. His head dropped to the crook of my neck. “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

  “What?” I said, playing innocent.

  “You know what you’re doing.” He placed sweet, tiny kisses along my neck, bringing me flush against him.

  I closed my eyes, my body filling with want and need and pure, unadulterated lust.

  If we started, we’d never finish, and I’d call in to work for the first time in forever.

  First, the cuddles. Then, cooking me breakfast.

  I was in deep with this man, like cotton-candy goo, and I was undeniably smitten. And smitten was a word I had never used.

  “I’m feeding you breakfast and then feasting on you for dessert.” His rich, throaty voice resonated deep in my belly. “Want my redo.” He bit at the tender part of my neck, sending shocks of pleasure everywhere.

  I turned to face him, eyes wide. “Redo? You did and redid and re-redid, and I swear, I don’t know how I’m still walking.”

  He’d wanted to make up for my lost orgasm, and he’d done that in earth-shattering spades.

  He turned me to face him, and our lips met.

  “You’re something I can’t get enough of.” His fingers slipped in my shorts, and he grabbed my bare asscheek.

  “What are we doing?” I whispered, our heads barely touching.

  He lightly kissed my lips, staring down at me. “I don’t know what we’re doing. Do I like staying here? Yes. Do I like playing house?” His hands moved to the small of my back, dipping me slightly. “No. I hate playing house, but for once, I don’t want to play anymore. I want to stay in that house–live in it—furniture and all.”

  The intenseness
in his eyes seared through me, touching a place I had in my heart that I usually kept caged.

  “I like you. And for the first time in a long time, I want more than one night with someone. I can feel you pulling away, and I need you to stop.” He dropped his forehead against mine. “Christene, you’re strong, you’re fierce, you’re beautiful. And I can’t get you out of my system—I don’t want to.”

  My hands held on to him for support, as I felt like I might fall to the ground at the way he’d just uttered my name.

  “All I want to do is touch you. All the time.” His lips dropped to my cheek. “And kiss you all the time.” He dropped a kiss to my neck.

  I knew what I felt in my gut, in my mind, in my heart, and I was afraid of everything that was going on. “We’re alike in so many ways. And this …” I motioned between us. “… scares me.”

  He smiled a devastatingly beautiful smile—not the one he smiled for the cameras, not the one that was plastered in grocery store magazines, but the one filled with adoration and sincerity and honesty. “I kind of knew it. I kind of knew you had a crush on me.”

  I tilted my head back and rolled my eyes. “Please, you fell for me way before I fell for you.”

  He silenced me with another chaste kiss on the lips. “Now, I have to ask you something.”

  I stiffened at the intensity in his stare. “Yes, you can take me on the kitchen counter. That is allowed.”

  He chuckled. “No. Will you be mine?”

  My heart stopped at the lightness in his voice and the glimmer in his eyes.

  “My girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend. I mentally tested the word out.

  The last time I had been someone’s girlfriend, it had ended in the worst possible failure.

  Still, my cheeks hurt from my smile because I couldn’t dim my amusement at the question boys used to ask me in grade school. And I wouldn’t let fear prevent me from taking chances.

  He held both of my hands in his. “Seriously, Tene. I haven’t done this in a long time.”

  I concentrated on him, our intertwined hands, his open honesty to keep me steady and prevent me from freaking out. “I haven’t done this in a long time, either.”