by C. C. Wood
The stage was set.
The doorbell rang and the low hum of nerves beneath my skin increased. I smoothed my hands over the skirt of the dress and walked down the hall from my bedroom to the living room. Before I unlocked the door and opened it, I took a deep breath. My heart was pounding, with excitement or anxiety I wasn’t sure.
The first thing I saw when I opened the door were white orchids. Probably two dozen of them. When my eyes lifted to Jordan’s face, he didn’t meet my gaze. No, he was looking down, at my dress. His eyes moved over my body slowly and though it sounded fanciful, even to me, I could swear I felt the heat and weight of them like a physical touch.
When he finally looked me in the eye, I no longer felt warm. I was scorched.
“Good evening, Tanya.” His greeting was formal, almost stilted, and I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake. Until I met his burning blue gaze again.
No, I hadn’t made a mistake. Still, two could play that game.
“Evening, Jordan. Thank you for the lovely flowers,” I replied, holding out my hand to take the bouquet. “I’ll put them in water. Make yourself comfortable.”
As I turned and walked into the kitchen, I once again felt the weight of Jordan’s eyes on me, running along the bare skin of my spine. I ignored the way my hands trembled as I took a vase from the cabinet and filled it with water. I removed the brown paper wrapped around the stems and slid the orchids into the delicate crystal cylinder.
As I arranged the flowers so that each stem was submerged, heat enveloped me from behind, warming the skin of my bare back. Jordan’s hands rested on the counter, fencing me in between the cabinets and his body.
“Your dress is…incredible,” he murmured in my ear.
“Thank you.” My voice was barely more than a whisper as I watched him reach out and take a single stem from the vase.
He stepped into me, his lower body brushing mine, and I felt a tug on the material tied around the nape of my neck. The fabric loosened then slithered down the front of my body, leaving me bare from the waist up.
“I’m inclined to believe it’s an invitation,” Jordan continued, moving closer until my hips were trapped between the counter and his body.
I watched as the hand holding the orchid lifted and he slid the fragrant petals over the skin of my chest. “Yes, it is,” I murmured, gasping as the flowers moved lower, caressing my breast with agonizing gentleness.
“Then I accept.”
He tucked the stem back into the vase and repeated the caress with his hand, his palm sliding across my chest then down over my breast. While the orchid had been soft and titillating, his hands were demanding. The heat and texture of his palms seemed to sear my flesh as he cupped my breast and tugged lightly at my nipple with his thumb and forefinger.
His other hand reached up and swept aside my hair, baring the skin of my neck. Knowing what was coming, I tilted my head, offering him what he wanted.
Jordan’s mouth closed over my flesh where the base of my throat curved out to my shoulder just as he increased the pressure of his fingers on my breast. With a gasp, I pressed back against him, my head tilting back farther.
I reached up, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck as his mouth moved up my throat until he reached my ear. “I’m hungry,” he murmured as he nipped the lobe with his teeth. “And you smell delicious.”
I shivered at his words. He intended to make a meal out of me and I had little doubt I would enjoy every second.
Twisting my head, I latched my lips on his, sweeping my tongue into his mouth. Jordan’s arm reached across my body, his hand gripping my opposite hip as he tugged me away from the counter, using his hold on my body to turn me toward him.
Without the counter pressing against my body, the dress slid down, bunching up over his hand. He lifted his head, looked down, and deliberately lifted his palm away from the material, watching as the fabric fell down my legs to the floor.
In my shoes, I was only an inch or two shorter than him, which gave me a chance to watch the expression on his face when he realized that all I was left wearing was a pair of thigh highs and my shoes.
Lifting his head, he grinned at me. “You were determined, weren’t you?”
“Definitely.”
The smile on his face faded, replaced almost instantly with hunger. Without another word, he took my hand and pulled me along behind him as he left the kitchen.
Once we were in my bedroom, he guided me to the foot of the bed. “Lay down.”
I did as he asked, letting my shoes drop to the floor. As I looked up at him, I noticed that he was still fully dressed except for his coat and suit jacket. We stared at each other as he took the cufflinks out of his shirt cuffs and rolled them up.
“Put your heels on the bed and spread your legs,” he commanded.
Slowly, I moved to comply. “Why?” I asked as I lifted one leg, then the other, his eyes watching my every move.
With anyone else, this entire situation would have been uncomfortable, even awkward, but because it was Jordan it felt thrilling and sexy as hell.
His eyes roved from my lower body up over my torso until they reached my face. “I told you. I’m hungry.”
Not taking my eyes from his, I slid my heels away from my hips and spread my knees apart. Never before had I been so bold in the bedroom. I wasn’t exactly shy during sex, but I never bared myself so completely while my partner remained fully clothed.
Jordan knelt at the end of the bed, his gaze locked on mine and he slid both hands up from my ankles, over the bend of my knee, and down the inside of my thighs. His palms rasped against the sheer material of my stockings and I jumped slightly when they moved down over the lace cuff to the bare skin of my inner thigh, scant inches from my center.
Only then did he break eye contact as he dipped his head, pressing his lips first to the lacy band that held up the thigh high, then lower, against the exposed flesh.
So distracted by the sensation of his mouth on my body, I didn’t feel his other hand moving until his thumb grazed my clit. I inhaled sharply, my body tensing. I wasn’t sure if my reaction was due to the light touch or the fact that it promised more pleasure.
Then his mouth replaced his thumb and I stopped thinking altogether. All I could do was feel.
The comforter was cool beneath my back, but his hands and his mouth were like fiery brands against me. My hips bucked as the tip of his tongue circled my clit, slowly at first, then harder and faster. Of their own volition, my hands fisted in his hair, holding onto him as the sensations washed over me.
Jordan seemed to sense my desperation. His lips fastened around my clit, sucking as he flicked it with the tip of his tongue. Every muscle in my body locked tight in preparation for what I knew was coming. I could feel the orgasm rushing to the surface, the wave so enormous I wasn’t sure I would survive it.
My head rolled back and I moaned deep in my throat as Jordan slipped two fingers inside of me, hitting a spot only he seemed to know existed. Then I came, the climax stealing my breath as his mouth remained merciless on me, drawing it out until I thought my lungs would never work again.
Finally, the orgasm ebbed and my body melted into the bed. I lay on the soft mattress, my heart pounding as I panted for air. Forcing my eyelids to open, I looked up to find Jordan standing over me, stripping off his shirt.
I lifted up on my elbows, intent on sitting up and helping him undress, but Jordan’s voice stopped me.
“Don’t move,” he commanded.
“Why not?” I asked, surprised at the raw, throaty tone of my voice.
I wanted my hands on him, to touch him the way he touched me. It had been too many years since the last time. During our tryst at Milton’s retirement party and the hours after, everything was so rushed and wild that I hadn’t been able to savor the feeling of his body. It was like a snack when I was starving. I wanted to feast on him and discover if his body was still the same and I wanted to do that now.
�
��I like looking at you like this.” His reply surprised me.
“Like what?”
I watched as he shed his pants and briefs and stood nude before me. I realized he held a condom in his right hand as he put a knee on the bed next to me. He urged me into the middle of the bed, moving with me.
“Soft.” His fingers trailed over my collarbone and down my sternum. “Sexy.” Then he cupped my breast, lowering his head to lave my nipple with his tongue. “And for my eyes only,” he murmured against my skin.
His words, coupled with his touch, lit the fire of need within me again. My sluggish thoughts finally turned to the fact that he was within arm’s reach and that I could touch him as much I wanted.
I curved my hands over his shoulders, feeling the lean muscle and sinew that seemed tougher and bulkier than it had before. My palms traveled downward, over his back, relearning the shape and texture while discovering the new. When I reached his waist, I spread my hands, dragging my fingertips around to the slanting muscle that led from his hips to his cock.
As I curved my hand around the rigid length, I whispered in his ear, “I want you inside me.”
At the touch of my fingers, Jordan nipped the inside of my breast with his teeth. The bite was a heady mix of pleasure and pain, teetering on the edge of being too much but never enough.
I heard him rip open the condom packet and he shifted, his hands brushing mine aside so he could put it on. I shifted so his hips were between my thighs, eager to feel him inside me.
As he moved over me, his cock pressing into my body, our eyes locked. I couldn’t look away as he slid deep until our hips seemed fused together.
We stared at one another for a long moment, neither of us moving, until I whimpered, “Please.”
I needed him to move, to feel his body filling me over and over. But I also needed more. I wanted more.
I wanted his heart.
Jordan lowered his head, his mouth crashing into mine, and he gave me a taste of what I wanted. He withdrew and thrust, deep and hard, until I felt the release gathering within me. Until I gasped with each slam of his hips against mine. I reached for the orgasm, desperate and aching.
The tension building inside me burst free when he lowered his head and sucked my nipple deep into his mouth. I cried out as I came again, clutching him to me. As the orgasm gradually faded, Jordan thrust into me one last time, a low groan escaping from his mouth against my breast, the sound vibrating through my body with the echoes of my climax.
Jordan lifted his head, his mouth touching mine with indescribable tenderness.
When he released my lips, I spoke without thinking. “I missed you.”
It hit me what I’d said and what I’d possibly revealed with my words when he opened his eyes and looked down at me, his expression unguarded and surprised.
Though my first instinct was to say something else, change the subject, anything to hide the vulnerability I’d just exposed, I forced myself to lie still and keep silent.
If I wanted more from Jordan, I would also have to give him more of myself.
The surprise washed out of his eyes, replaced by warmth, and my thoughtless admission was rewarded.
“I’ve missed you too, Tanya,” he replied, his lips curving into a smile I’d never seen from Jordan before. It was tender and affectionate, but there was something else.
For the first time since I met Jordan Hawke, I was seeing exactly what he was thinking and feeling. Nothing hidden. Nothing protected.
And it was more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.
Chapter Eleven
Later that night, I lay on my side in bed, looking at Jordan. My muscles were lax and a little sore and I barely had the energy to keep my eyes open.
The moonlight highlighted the sharp bone structure of his face, casting shadows beneath his cheek and brow bones. Still, even with his face in partial darkness, I could see the gleam of his eyes as he looked back at me.
“I’m not complaining but what brought that on?” he asked, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I tucked my hands beneath my cheek and stared at him. “You were driving me crazy.”
His low chuckle seemed to surround me in the darkness. It felt intimate and…right. “Driving you crazy? How? By taking you to dinner?”
I scoffed quietly. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know what you were doing. You kissed me every night like you wanted to tear my clothes off and then walked away.”
Jordan reached out and pulled me closer, tucking my face against his chest and pulling my left leg over his hip. I settled against him, enjoying the scent of his skin and the sound of his heartbeat against my ear.
“I did want to tear your clothes off,” he replied.
“So why didn’t you?”
“Because you said you wanted something different than what we had before.”
“Hmmmm.”
I felt and heard his short laugh since my ear was pressed against his chest.
“I told my aunt about you this week.”
I tilted my head back to look at him. “Your aunt?” Only once during our previous time together had Jordan mentioned her. When his parents died, he’d moved to America to live with her as she was his only living relative.
Jordan smoothed my tangled hair away from my face. “Yes.”
“What did you tell her?” I asked. I knew Jordan enjoyed my company, and obviously sex with me, but I wondered how he saw me. The shield of his reserve had thinned this week, but he still held a part of himself back.
“That I was seeing a beautiful, intelligent attorney I work with.”
While I wanted to inwardly preen at the compliment, I was also aware that his description of me could be applied to most of the women at the firm. “And what did she say?”
“Something along the lines of ‘Finally! When can I meet her?’,” he replied.
Afraid that my face would give me away, I moved back into my previous position with my cheek resting on his sternum. “I think I’d like to meet her,” I stated softly. His hand began to run up and down my back in a long trail from shoulder to hip. “I told my dad about you too,” I continued cautiously.
“And what did he say?”
“Something along the same lines.”
Jordan’s hand hesitated for a moment before continuing the upward stroke to my shoulder blade. “I’d like to meet him.”
I smiled at his reply, glad that the idea of meeting my father didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable. Still, it was soon.
“Maybe we could all meet for brunch in a couple weeks,” he suggested absently. He sounded relaxed and content, his accent thickening his deep voice.
Loving the sound of it, I cuddled closer to his body. “Sounds nice.” Since I wanted him to keep speaking in that gorgeous, hypnotic tone, I asked, “Will you tell me about your aunt?”
His hand slid to my lower back, resting there. “What do you want to know?”
“When did you move in with her?”
“When I was eleven.”
I realized that would have been when his parents died and, without thinking, I pressed my lips over his heart.
Jordan’s arms tightened around me. “She was younger than my father by nearly ten years, so not quite thirty, and she had no husband or children of her own. It was a big adjustment for us both, but she was wonderful.”
“So she was your father’s sister?” I asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt but desperate for any sliver of information he was willing to give me.
“His half-sister, yes. That’s why there was such a big age difference. My grandfather left England after he and my grandmother divorced and remarried here in America.”
I was curious about that situation, but right now I wanted to focus on how Jordan grew up and more of his personal history.
“Aunt Joyce was living in Dallas at the time. I’d visited her several times with my parents, but never during the summer. Usually, we came to visit on Christmas break or
during the spring. When I got here, it was August and I remember thinking that I must have moved to hell because it was so hot.”
I nodded against his chest. The heat would have been at its most intense in Texas during August.
“Joyce immediately drove us both straight to a fast food restaurant and bought us milkshakes before she took me home.” He paused again, so long I wondered if had fallen asleep. “I’ll never forget that first summer here. It was the hardest, but Joyce did everything she could to help me cope and to distract me. She dragged me to amusement parks, water parks, museums, arcades, and any other place an eleven-year-old boy would find fun or trouble.” His chest vibrated against my ear as he laughed softly. “In fact, I think she encouraged me to get into trouble far more than I would have done on my own.”
“What?” I asked with a smile, enjoying the feel and sound of his laughter.
“My father often described Joyce as a bit of a hellion,” he explained. “At twenty-nine, she was still a little wild.” He laughed again, louder this time. “Even now that she’s fifty-four, she’s feisty.”
My smile widened at his description of his aunt and the warm affection in his voice. Not only was he telling me about his past, he was opening up to me, sharing his emotions freely. There was no hint of his usual reserve in his tone or manner.
“I like her already,” I murmured, kissing his breastbone once again before settling deeper into his body. My pleasantly relaxed mind was moving quickly toward sleep and as much as I wanted Jordan to continue assuaging my curiosity, I could barely keep my eyes open.
“I’m absolutely certain she’ll like you too,” he replied.
“Good. I want her to like me,” I muttered, closing my eyes for just a moment, unable to fight the weight of my eyelids any longer. “It’s important to me.”
“Why?”
Vaguely hearing his question as I drifted off, I mumbled, “Because you’re important to me.” I couldn’t hear what he murmured in reply but I felt his arms pulling me closer and the press of his lips against my hair.