Page 79 of Jordan

“O-okay. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“So—” I clear my throat, stopping myself from doing what he just told me not to. “Okay.”

I stab the last shrimp, shove it in my mouth, and reach for my wine.

“Is there something I can do?” I offer.

He looks up, holding my gaze. The fury there is obvious, but there’s also something more.

“Is Rafael around?”

I hate that a surge of jealousy rolls in my gut. How can I be upset about him being with Rafael if I don’t want to be with him? What he does is none of my business.

“I’m asking if I can do something,” I say, my pride and unrelenting need to be stubborn getting in the way.

“You can tell me if Rafael has left already,” he says.

I sigh. “He left this morning. A little while after you.”

He nods and pours himself a glass of wine before he begins to eat.

I finish my wine, grab my dishes, and stand.

“Stay,” he demands. I pause, and before I know what’s happening, I’m sinking back into the chair.

Why? Why do I listen to him?

“Okay…” I mutter.

“I’m not angry with you.” His words are softer, but not any less sharp.

“I didn’t think you were, but I don’t want to stick around and be your punching bag,” I assert.

He jerks his head up, his eyes softening. “You’re right. I apologize.”

I eye him carefully, not sure if he’s fucking with me.

“What do you need Rafael for? Is it something I can help you with?”

Why do I want him to say yes? Why do I want him to need me for something?

Because you need him to trust you.

Trust, Jordan. Trust.

Yeah, that’s totally why I’m doing it.

He holds my gaze for a moment. “Doubtful.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Rafael lets me take my anger out on him in ways I’m certain you won’t allow.”

My lips form an O, and I nod.

Yet my pussy doesn’t seem to agree. She’s eager to know what exactly it is he does to Rafael and if she would enjoy it too.