The Lucky Ones

by Cross, Cassie

  I figure it might be the start of a truce between the two of us on this rocky ground we find ourselves on.

  He gets back a few minutes later, all sweaty from his run. His shirt is sticking to his chest, and I regret that I was too shocked at our situation this morning to get a good look at him shirtless in my bed.

  Maybe, if things go right today, I’ll get another chance at it. One where I can linger and look as much as I want, where I don’t have to pretend like I don’t want to.

  Annoyance flashes over his face when he gets a look at the laptop. “Of course you’re working,” he says, irritated.

  Apparently the run didn’t help as much as I hoped it would.

  “Okay,” I say, standing up, angry. “What is your problem?”

  Chapter Seven

  Jordan scrubs his hand through his hair. “I just wanted one weekend away, for you to stop thinking about work…for you to see me. I’m right here in front of you and you just look right through me because everything’s about work for you.” His body is all taught muscles and tension. I think the run had the opposite effect and worked him up even more.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, totally confused. “Of course I see you. I see you all the time. I see you at work, I see you after work, I see you…”

  “Work, it’s all about work.”

  Now I’m on the defensive, because I was trying to do something nice. “I wasn’t actually working, I was…you know what? Never mind, that doesn’t matter because that’s not what you’re pissed about. You’re pissed that we didn’t get drunk married and I don’t understand. Is that how you want your life to start with someone? Some careless night where no one was thinking straight? I thought you’d gotten enough of that already?”

  I cringe a little, because that last part wasn’t supposed to come out.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” I tell him.

  “Clearly it does, and clearly it’s been bothering you, so you might as well say it.”

  A nervous energy rushes through my veins, because I’m on the spot now and I never wanted to bring any of this up, much less like this.

  I look down at the hem of my shirt and rub it between my fingers, trying to buy myself some time.

  “It’s just that you used to date a lot of people, these beautiful women who seemed to be around all the time. There was always a new one, and they never seemed to last, so I thought…I thought that maybe casual relationships were something that you were trying to get away from.”

  Shock crosses his face for a few fleeting seconds. “That whole period of my life was a mistake,” he says, shaking his head.

  “The models? Any guy would kill to have a track record like yours.”

  He cringes. “Those women weren’t who I wanted, but they were who I could have.”

  That answer surprises me. “Who did you want?”

  He stares at me for a long time. It feels like whole years pass in this moment where he’s looking at me like he can’t believe I hadn’t figured it out.

  “You, Kendall. I have only ever wanted you.”

  A slight breeze could knock me over. “What? I don’t understand.”

  He sighs. “It’s a long story, and I don’t particularly want to tell it to you right now while I’m sweaty from my run and still a little pissed off. Not at you, just…lemme take a shower and get my head straight, okay?”

  “Yeah, go take a shower.”

  He offers me a half smile, then heads off into his room. I shut down my laptop because that definitely seems to be a bone of contention, and I can always show him what I’ve done with his footage later. I should’ve known he’d be upset; he did want this weekend to be about fun and relaxation.

  I laugh. Funny how things turn out.

  I hear him talking for a few minutes before he gets in the shower; it sounds like he’s on the phone. Eventually I hear the water turn on and that’s when I plop down on the couch and mull things over in my head. There’s a piece of the puzzle that I’m missing here, and Jordan definitely has it. Why would I have confused him? If anything I thought I’d been too obvious about how head-over-heels I was for him.

  Maybe not? Perception is a strange thing.

  He makes his way out of his bedroom after a while. I only mark the passage of time by the way the sun moves across the room. It’s been a long day; somehow it’s closing in on sundown again. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, looking much more calm than he did when he went in.

  He smiles in this soft way that makes my heart skip a beat. I walk over to him and he takes my hand, moving it so that my palm is outstretched. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a die, dropping it there.

  “Even, you let me apologize and take you somewhere to talk. Odd, I take you somewhere to talk where I apologize.”

  I laugh, then raise my hand up toward his lips. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss it for good luck?”

  All the angry tension that was between us dissipates, replaced by this crackling kind that makes me want to rip his shirt off and forget about the talking. But no, not talking is what got us into this mess in the first place.

  His lips brush against my fingers, which are wrapped around the die.

  I roll. There are no stakes, and yet they’re the highest they’ve ever been.

  The die comes to a stop showing five.

  * * *

  Jordan drives us over to the airport in a really nice pickup truck that his friend Danny was nice enough to let us borrow and have one of his employees drop off. The concierge handed him a bag with a giant fluffy blanket inside before we walked out to the valet. We pull to the end of a parking lot that’s peppered with a few cars here and there, and stop in a spot that’s far away from anyone else.

  Jordan pops open the tailgate and spreads the blanket on the bed of the truck, then he takes my hands and pulls me up. We settle in next to each other and lean back against the cab.

  I breathe in the desert air as we watch a Southwest plane take off into the sunset.

  “I love that we have a thing that’s just ours, that we can do even when we’re out of town.” Airports are everywhere, and they’ve always been mine and Jordan’s spot.

  “Me too,” he replies with a warm smile. He reaches over and takes my hand, playing with my fingertips as he figures out what he wants to say.

  “Do you remember that birthday party Skye had a couple of years ago? The one at that place she rented in Hollywood Hills?”

  I nod. She was still in an apartment then and wanted to throw a blowout without annoying her neighbors. “Yeah, that was a great party.”

  “It was. I had been watching you all night. You were poured into this short dress that looked amazing, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You were oblivious as usual. I’d been wanting to make a move for a while, but there was so much on the line, and I wasn’t that great at talking about my feelings back then, or even recognizing what they were, not that I’m much better about it now,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh.

  I meet his eyes and they’re all soft and gooey again, just like Skye said they were. Focused on me like I’m the only woman in his world, and for the first time I’m starting to understand that I just might be.

  “That really was a great dress,” I say, hoping to ease some of his tension. “I still have it.”

  “I’ll file away that information for later,” he says. “Skye had pulled you off into a corner and you guys were in your own little world like you usually are, and your drinks were low. I went off to get a refill, because I was always trying to get you to notice me back then.”

  “You never needed help with that,” I tell him. “I noticed you all the time. I couldn’t stop noticing you.”

  He runs his fingers through his hair. “You were pretty good at hiding it. I came over with your drinks, and neither one of you noticed me. Skye was harassing you about me, telling me that she knew that you had
feelings for me and that you should make a move.”

  “Yeah, I remember,” I tell him, knowing exactly what it was that he heard next. “I told her you were like my brother,” I say.

  “Yeah,” he says, shaking his head and looking down at his lap. “It about killed me. I found the first woman who was willing and took her home because I wanted to forget, to push you so far out of my system that I could function around you. Then I tried to make myself feel for them the way I felt for you, hoping I could just…erase it. But the harder I tried, the stronger I felt, and at the end there were all these woman and I ended up not liking who I was anymore, so I stopped.”

  “I didn’t mean what I said that night,” I tell him. “I thought I was hiding how I felt about you pretty well, but Skye always knows, and I didn’t want her pressuring me or making things weird, because I thought…I always felt like…”

  He squeezes my fingers and dips his head low so he can catch my eye. “I always felt like you were out of my league.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Seriously?”

  I shrug. “Yeah.”

  He crooks his finger under my chin and tilts my head up. “I think you have that one backwards. I’d gotten the sense that things had changed, that maybe you did want me, but one day you’d be looking at me like I look at you, and then the next you’d lock yourself in an editing bay and avoid me at all costs.”

  “I’ve always been a workaholic, but I really threw myself into it after you started dating all those models. It was a nice distraction, but the more I tried to distract myself the more I wanted you. So then I had to distract myself harder, and eventually…I’m starting to realize that I lost myself in the process.”

  He shakes his head. “We’re a mess.”

  I laugh. It’s true. “We really are.”

  “I spent so much time with the wrong people trying to make them into the right one,” he admits. He shifts his body toward me, then takes my face in his hands. “It’s always been you for me, Ken.”

  My knees go weak even though I’m sitting down. I clasp my hands around his wrists. “It’s always been you for me, too.”

  “I’m so in love with you that I can’t remember a time that I wasn’t. I was disappointed we weren’t married because…like I said, I thought you might have feelings for me, but last night…last night I knew it. I felt it. We were so close, and you backed away so I wanted to give you space. And when we woke up with those rings on, I thought…finally this might be the thing that stops scaring you, that with the decision already made you might finally let go and be with me. It’s stupid, I know.”

  I run the backs of my fingers along his stubbly jaw. “It’s kinda sweet, actually. And, not to overplay my hand here because it feels like we’re going from zero to sixty, but if I were going to marry anyone, Jordan, I’d want it to be you. Just not like that. Not after a drunken night of maybe fake skydiving during a ceremony that I can’t even remember happening. I want to remember. I want it to be a choice.”

  He nods, understanding. “Weird that we’re already talking about marriage,” he says with a smile.

  “Maybe not that weird.”

  “I’m in love with you, Ken.”

  It feels so good to hear it, to finally know. That final puzzle piece is in place and my soul feels at ease. I don’t feel like I need distracting now, I just need him.

  “I’m in love with you, too.”

  He lets out this cute laugh, then leans in and kisses me. His lips are so soft, and I can’t get enough. I thread my fingers through his hair just to hold him closer. He tastes like mint, and the way his body wraps around mine makes me feel like I’m coming home.

  This kiss is toe-curling, and one that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. We kiss and kiss each other, like we’re never gonna stop, until he pulls me up onto his lap and I forget that we’re actually in public. I could drown in him, get lost in him forever.

  Until someone lets out a sharp whistle.

  We pull apart, laughing.

  “Guess we’re getting a little too carried away, huh?”

  “It’s easy to do when I’m with you,” I tell him.

  He gives me another soft, lingering kiss. “How about you let me take you on a real first date?”

  I kiss him again. “I’d like that.”

  Chapter Eight

  We go to eat at Bouchon in The Venetian. The atmosphere isn’t nearly as romantic as it was last night, but I’m having dinner with the man I’m in love with, who’s in love with me. We could eat dinner in the middle of a parking lot and it would be romantic, as long as we’re together.

  Jordan insists that we go on a gondola ride, which is a cheesy Vegas rite of passage that I’m all too happy to agree to. He holds me close as the gondolier moves us through the canal, and we sneak a few kisses here and there. I’m practically giddy with excitement and love for this man, I think I could float if he wasn’t holding me down.

  We grab an ice cream cone on our walk back to the Bellagio, and split it, laughing as it melts on our fingers. When we’re finished, I pull him off the sidewalk to get a taste of him with chocolate on his lips.

  We get back just in time to catch the beginning of the fountain show. The two of us are buzzing, unable to keep our hands off each other. He pulls me in front of him, wrapping his arm around my waist as he holds me against his chest. I’m enjoying the show and the feel of him, when he kisses the back of my neck, his hand daringly low against my belly.

  “I know a place where we’d have a better view,” he whispers seductively, lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

  We head up to the room, holding hands and sneaking glances at each other, smiling like fools. The elevator ride is endless, and there’s another couple in here with us, so we have to be on our best behavior. He keeps sliding his finger along the length of my pinky. It’s such an innocent touch, but it’s getting me worked up to the point of exploding. The wanting to touch him, the needing to be decent while we’re in public is a mix that is slowly driving me insane with lust for him.

  When the elevator finally dings on our floor, we step out. The hallway is quiet and blissfully clear of anyone else. His mouth is immediately on mine, kissing me long and deep as he pushes me up against the wall to get some leverage.

  I grab at his shirt to pull him closer, wanting his body on mine immediately. There’s too much clothing and not enough skin for my liking.

  He gets the hint and pulls me the few feet to our room, where he fumbles to get the door open. I laugh at him, a light, good-natured thing, and when he pulls me aside for an encore of the wall kissing, I’m not laughing anymore.

  “I want to touch you all the time,” he says, kissing his way down my neck. “To make up for all the times I wanted to, but couldn’t.”

  “Please do,” I reply, grabbing at his t-shirt. He pulls at the back of the collar and lifts it up, exposing the soft skin on his impressive chest for me to touch and taste as I please. So that’s what I do, now that touching and tasting is on the menu. “Make up for all the time you want,” I say between kisses. “Whenever and wherever you want.”

  He hums as he slides his hand up my shirt, and a hand simply isn’t enough anymore. I want full skin-on-skin, our bodies wrapped around each other as soon as possible.

  He gets the hint, because he’s a prince among men, and rips my shirt right off of me.

  He takes me in through love-drunk hooded eyes, the backs of his fingers sliding into the valley between my breasts.

  “I wanted to do this last night,” he says. “To trace along the edges of the neckline of your dress. To slip my hand under it and feel how soft you are. To know how good you taste.”

  I swallow hard. “You could do that now.” No, as a matter of fact, “Please do that now.”

  He distracts me with another toe-curling kiss as he expertly unhooks my bra. I shrug out of it and toss it to the side, wanting to be free of the damned thing. He does what he wanted, cupping my breasts, rubbing the
pads of his thumbs across my nipples, then following that same path with his mouth.

  My head falls back against the wall as I get lost in his touch. He picks me up, surprising a squeak out of me that makes him laugh. Half-naked, sexed-up Jordan is my new favorite Jordan.

  He carries me over to the bar, where he sets me down on the counter to touch some more, to kiss some more, because the bedroom is just too far. I’m at just the right height now, so he pays my breast more attention, licking, laving, driving me crazy.

  I take over soon enough, wanting to get my fill of him. I kiss his wonderful mouth, his neck, the parts of his chest that I can reach. His pants are still on and that’s unacceptable, so I reach down to take care of that problem, and only manage to push them down a little past his waist.

  “Those come all the way off, you know,” he teases.

  “Then take them all the way off.”

  There’s a promising gleam in his eyes as he hooks his fingers along the waistband and pushes down, kicking them to the side.

  Wow, he is a sight. A beautiful, Adonis of a man. Better than my wildest dreams. I reach down to touch him, but Jordan catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. He makes quick work of my jeans and helps me wiggle out of them. When he tosses them beside us, he steps back to look at me with a gaze full of love and lust.

  His hand trails down the curve of my breast, my hip, my thigh. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says.

  Then he picks me up and kisses me on our way to the bed.

  He playfully tosses me on the mattress, then kneels on the floor as he focuses on learning every inch of my legs.

  “Sometimes when you’d come into the office on the weekend, you’d wear these shorts. Cutoffs, that were barely anything,” he says sliding his hand dangerously high up the inside of my thigh. “This one night you’d been working for hours, and you came out to stretch. I watched, I couldn’t help it, and I lost the rest of my night wondering how it would feel to touch you here,” he says.