Page 66

“You'd have to have done this a lot,” I blurt, looking away. “To be so good at it, I mean.”

He's quiet, thinking about what I said. Jordan pets my head absently. When he stops, he doesn't answer my question, he just eases my weight off him, his cock slipping free. He pulls his pants up his legs; I take the hint, putting on my bra, then my dress, but abandoning my panties. They're too damp to want to put back on.

The ocean wind drifts through the windows. It tugs at my hair, encouraging me to dig for a scrunchie in my middle console. I have my hair up in a tail when Jordan says, “I don't want to talk about other people.”

I glance at him, waiting, because I'm sure there's more.

He studies me before going on. “I'm eighteen years your senior, Lorikeet. It's not strange for me to have more experience.”

“No,” I agree, “it's not.”

“I've had a lot of sex.”

My nose crinkles. I release my hair, the end of the ponytail swaying. “Okay, I wasn't asking so you could start bragging.”

“I'm telling you this not to sound smug, Lorikeet.” He sits there, shirtless, running a hand over his neck like he's stressed. “I'm telling you to make it clear that I know enough to knowthis,what we did, what we're doing, is different. Special.”

Drumbeats start in my chest. “I don't understand.”

“Yes, you do.” Cradling my cheeks in his hands, he presses his forehead to mine. “You're going to be the death of me, Lorikeet.”

“I don't want that,” I whisper.

My vision is filled by the slope of his nose and the edges of his mouth. I witness his smirk grow faster than wildfire. “Save me, then. Pick me over him. Is that too much to ask?”

Him.We're back to reality. Back to Dezmond and my cruel fate.

“Jordan—I can't.”

“Why? Tell mewhy.”

“I can't do that either.”

“I've never wanted someone as much as I want you, Lorikeet. Isn't that obvious? It took all my self-control not to touch you after I discovered you naked in my tub. I stopped struggling with the war inside of me when you crossed the threshold into my bedroom to help me choose a tie. I wrote my name on you, tasted you, and every day spent waking up without you in my bed isagony. I could be so many things to you that Dezmondnever will. So, tell me again, why not me?”

Pressure builds behind my eyes. His words are ripping me apart, forcing me to see how he's been suffering this whole time. But I'm caught up on something else he said. “You never wanted someone as much as me? Not even your last wife?”

Jordan shoves himself away from me. He searches my face, eyes wide, straining to peer into my head. He looks so confused it leaves me frozen. “Excuse me?”

Licking my bottom lip, I speak as carefully as I can. This is dangerous ground to tread. We're closer now, in this moment, than ever before. If I stumble, I'll drive us to opposite ends of the earth. “I found her grave. Deena Hartford.”

He says nothing, just stares.

I say, “I wasn't looking for it. Just came across it this morning. Jordan, the flowers you bought from me, they were still there. What was left of them, I mean. I'm not angry you were married before, nothing like that, I swear I—I just want to know what happened. Who was she?”

How did she die?I don't dare ask that.

His mouth is a line so straight it could snap clean. “She wasn't my wife. She was my sister.”

The feeling in my toes and tongue fades away. I think I ask, “what?” but can't be sure.

Jordan smiles but there's no love in it. Nothing kind. “Dezmond isn't really my son.”

Chapter 23

I'mwatchingusfromfar away. I see myself open the car door, see Jordan call my name and follow me out. My heels slip on the sand; I reach down, tug them off, toss them aside without seeing where they land.

Dezmond isn't his son.