Page 20 of Him Too

She didn’t argue.

Outside, my two security guards I had hired to watch her specifically were leaned up against the car. I swear I had to stop myself from taking the rest of my anger out on them. Useless motherfuckers.

“Where the fuck were you two?” I snapped, my voice echoing in the parking lot.

They opened their mouths, trying to explain, but I wasn’t hearing it.

“You’re fired,” I said, my voice cold. “Both of you. Get the fuck out of my face.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I pulled Jordin toward the car, opening the door for her before getting in myself.

The silence in the car was heavy, her fingers twisting in her lap as I gripped the wheel. A few blocks down, I pulled over, cutting the engine.

“Are you okay?” I asked, turning to face her. I didn’t like that she was upset.

She nodded, but her hands were still shaking. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “But you’re not. You’re going to end up all over social media for this. You don’t need that.”

“Fuck social media,” I said. “I don’t care about that. I care about you. He shouldn’t have had his hands on you.”

She blinked, her lips parting like she didn’t know what to say.

“You’re my priority, Jordin. Fuck everything else.”

She didn’t have a comeback. She was just staring at me like she wasn’t sure what to do with what I’d just said. Then she simply nodded and turned to look out the window.

thirteen-Ciarán

I was stretched out on my back, staring at the ceiling fan, watching the slow, hypnotic rotation of the blades. My fists were still sore from earlier. Tyrell and Lila had been blowing my shit up all night, probably trying to do damage control. I knew that video was already everywhere. Twitter. Shade Room. All that. I didn’t give a fuck. I’d do it again if it meant Jordin was safe.

But she hadn’t said much since we got home. Not a word, really. That shit was eating at me. Because her quiet left too much space for my own thoughts to get loud. Was she replaying all that had happened in her head and seeing me for what I was—just another volatile nigga? Was she scared of me?

Suddenly the door creaked open, but I didn’t move. I knew it was her. I watched as she crossed the carpeted floor, soft as a whisper. The bed dipped under her weight, and then she slid next to me, laying her head on my chest. Her palm slid beneath my shirt, her fingers stretching wide over my stomach, just resting there. Her skin was warm. Silky. My heart was kicking against my ribs so loud I was sure she could feel it. But all my negative thoughts vanished.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For protecting me.”

My hand settled on her lower back. She was in a little silk set—shorts and a matching top. I could smell the cocoa butter still clinging to her skin. I was trying to act like I had some self-control, but my dick wasn’t hearing it.

“You don’t gotta thank me for that, J. I’ma always protect you.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “But don’t do it again.”

I huffed out a dry laugh. “I’ll do it again.”

“I know, because you violent,” she said, her voice softening again. “That’s the problem with you.”

She started tracing little circles on my six-pack with her fingertips, like she was trying to work up to whatever she was holding back.

“Just say what you want to say, Jordin,” I muttered. “You over there thinking too loud.”

She sucked her teeth long and hard. “You don’t know me.”

“Better than you want me to,” I said, my voice low.

“Whatever,” she said, brushing past it. “I want better than tonight for you, Ciarán.”

I turned my head toward her, snapping before I could stop myself. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means you ain’t gotta be angry all the time,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes met mine and my anger dissipated. “You have more to give than the rage people expect from you. I’ve seen it. And I like that side of you. But if you keep letting that other part of you take the wheel, it’s going to catch up with you. And I don’t want to be around to watch that, because I care.”