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Chapter Forty

Alex

Painting is one of those things that’s always been able to quiet my mind, but as I finish the last coat on the cabinets, I have to admit my mind has been racing all day—ever since Jordan let out the words I never thought I’d hear.

I think I want to fuck you.

I’ve never heard sweeter words in my life, but I also know that this is a big step. It’s more like a leap, actually.

I stare at the mess in the kitchen. Spilled paint, empty pails and dried paint trays, random brushes and paint sticks. It’s a damn mess. I sigh as I look at the stove, feeling exhausted from everything all at once.

Our conversation this morning. Our little game this afternoon. An extremely satisfying orgasm .

Seriously, if he can make me come that fast with just his hand…

Fuck, that was so hot.

Despite what one might think, I’m not that easy when it comes to someone else getting me off.

It usually takes a cocktail of things to set me off. Rough, brutal touch. Vicious, bitter degradation.

Pain.

But when Jordan puts his hands on me, all I feel is good. I didn’t think it was possible for me to come without crying and falling to my knees or without begging for it and being denied.

My phone rings, the dark, somber tones of “Daddy Issues” echoes in the space. I freeze, watching it ring on the counter.

I can’t bring myself to answer, even though I should. One of these days I’ll have to answer him. He is my captain, after all. But I can’t help the way my entire body tenses at the thought of hearing his voice.

For six years, I lived for the voice. I obeyed him as my captain. I gave him everything he demanded of me, stupidly thinking he’d give me what I craved. But every time Vance Harding pushed me into my subspace, blurring my lines, I lost a part of myself. Until I left, and then—

“You going to get that?” Jordan’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I shake my head .

“Nope,” I say as I grab the phone and silence it before sliding it into my back pocket. I notice the curious expression on his face, but Mack knows me well enough not to press me. If I want to talk about it, I will.

I’m just not sure I’ll ever be able to talk about what Vance did to me. Even if I want to.

Some days I’m more than thankful I signed that NDA. Some days I’m pissed at myself for signing that NDA. Most days, I just try not to think about Vance Harding, period.

“You, uh… want to order a pizza?” I ask with a sigh. I look at the mess, knowing I need to clean it up, but feeling too tired to do much more than shower and collapse on the couch.

Jordan nods, whipping out his phone faster than a speeding bullet.

“Fuck yes,” he says, and I laugh.

“Oh, and get an order of those cheese breadstick things,” I say as he smiles, his phone screen lighting up his face.

I debate if I should start cleaning up now, or—

“Go,” he says, nodding down the hall. “I got it.”

My mind races as memories fill my brain.

Look at this mess, Alex! What were you thinking?

I shake the memories, realizing Jordan’s a lot closer than he was a minute ago. He places his hands on my hips, gently turning me around and shoving me in the other direction, and I take the hint.

I saunter down the hall to the bathroom and take my time getting cleaned up. I watch the red paint run with the water and immediately wish I didn’t look down, because the memory that resurfaces makes me sick.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to block out the sight of my blood circling the drain. Of his knuckles spattered with blood like paint.

We were drunk. I screamed Vegas .

He didn’t hear me. At least that’s what he screamed outside my door after I punched him in his jaw and locked myself in my room.

Come on Alex, you know I didn’t mean it. Stop being such a bitch.

I brace my hands against the tile, opening my eyes.

The water’s clear. Once I’ve finished up, I throw on a fresh pair of athletic shorts and head out to the living room.

The pizza’s already on the counter and Jordan’s already on the couch with a plate, his gaze locked onto the television.

I walk across the floor, noting everything is cleaned up and in the right place, which makes me feel better.

I make myself a plate and quietly sit on the farthest side of the couch, so I can elevate my leg. I wish I could sit next to him, but I fear the ibuprofen has run its course .

I squirm, feeling antsy. I’m not comfortable like this, and he’s too far away. But the last thing I need is to become a stage-five clinger. We haven’t even had sex yet, for God’s sakes.

I should not be so damn needy.

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” I murmur as I bite into my pizza. It’s too cheesy, too greasy, but fuck if it doesn’t taste good.

I watch the announcers clamoring on about something, and then I freeze.

There, on the screen, is Vance’s beautiful face. My body tenses.

I see Jordan watching me, and I try to act normal, but I overcompensate and make it more awkward.

“Can we watch something else?” I ask.

He hands me the remote, not saying a word, but I don’t miss the way he’s looking at me. He knows something is up, but his mouth stays shut.

I flip through the channels until I find a movie I can’t pass up. How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days. I try to get comfortable on the couch, but the pillows are flat, my skin is too hot and too cold all at once, and I’m too tired to move.

Jordan sets his plate on the coffee table and scoots closer until he’s right next to me. He picks up my leg and settles it over his lap, tracing his fingers along my skin .

“Better?” he asks.

I still wriggle around to get comfortable, but feeling his fingers on my skin is… better.

“Yes,” I say, feeling strangely vulnerable.

Seeing Vance unexpectedly, even if just on the TV, fucked me up.

Jordan’s fingers continue to slide over my skin rhythmically and he leans into me just a fraction.

It’s quiet, save for the movie, but not awkward.

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re quiet.”

I hate how he knows me so well.

“Tired,” I say as I curl closer to him. It’s not an outright lie. I am exhausted. “This okay?” I ask as I fit myself against his warm body.

“Mhmm.”

I shift around until I’m finally comfortable with both legs over his lap, pressed against his side, my head on his shoulder.

Suddenly, I can barely keep my eyes open. My body relaxes against him, his clean, crisp scent of alpine filling my lungs. He smells so good, his fingers tracing lines along my leg, and it’s really fucking soothing.

“Very.” His voice is strangely soft. “Come on,” he says, shifting my body as his voice changes to that steady, commanding tone I know so well.

“But I just got comfortable,” I whine.

He chuckles. “I promise you’ll be more comfortable in a minute.”

I groan as I let him pull me up off the couch.

I stumble and his arms steady me. For a moment, we just stand there.

His hands slide over my hips, and around my back.

I watch his expression shift as his fingers glide over my skin, over the waistband of my briefs until he settles his hand on my ass.

He doesn’t move it, almost like he’s afraid to or doesn’t know where else to put it.

He just lets it rest there, his palm heating my skin through the fabric of my athletic shorts.

I lean in and kiss him.

“I’m comfortable right here,” I whisper against his lips. “With you.”

I know the minute I say it that it’s a mistake. I know better than to say things like that. Than to say what I feel to people who don’t want more than sex from me.

But before I can take it back, Jordan kisses me again, pulling me against him and his prominent hardness. His free hand finds the back of my neck and he kisses me slowly.

The sound of the television is white noise.

He pulls away, watching me carefully .

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks.

“Yes. Always.”

“I’m a little freaked out about the sex thing. Not because you’re a guy, but because… sex has been a weird thing for me.”

“We don’t have—”

“I want to though,” he says firmly. “Like… really fucking want to.”

His grip on me tightens and he grinds his dick against me, then rests his forehead against mine. “I want to, Alex. With you.”

His words are full of honesty and trust that I don’t know I fully deserve. I’ve been with plenty of people, played the part many times, but something about the sincerity of his voice, the simplicity of his words…

It feels different. Because it’s not really the words, themselves. It’s how he says them. It’s just him.

I should say no for so many reasons.

I know how this ends. I’ve been in this situation more times than I want to admit, but there's the smallest part of me that dares to hope, to think maybe this time it’ll be different.

Probably not, but what if it is?

What if I fall and someone catches me for once? Or what if we both fall together?

Jordan isn’t Vance. Though there are plenty of similarities, they are not the same .

I lick my lips, nodding in response as my heart beats so loudly in my chest I think he can hear it.

“Okay,” I say, as I let him lead us to his bedroom.