Then again, I had a feeling when I woke up to an empty bed this morning that was the case. Normally I prefer it that way. A girl sneaking out is best case scenario for me if I’m not the one leaving after a round or night of sex.
Jordan doing it to me, though… in the words of Brody, ouch man.
I rub my chest, feeling the little grooves her nails left in my skin. They sting a little, but I welcome the feeling. It brings back memories of last night and how mind-blowingly good it was. The eager little minx was putty in my hands, ready and willing to dowhatever I wanted her to, and then some. Though that was reciprocated. While she may not have started off vocal, she got louder and louder in her wants and needs with each orgasm I wrung from her insatiable body. The only thing I didn’t get to do was eat her out again.
Dude, focus!
I’ve got to stop thinking about last night. There’s some major damage control I need to do before I can relive anything with enjoyment because I know Jordan isn’t okay. And I know I’m the reason.
Nate reading me the riot act over the scratches the “hellcat” left behind didn’t help matters. She hardly said a handful of words after that. The embarrassment was clear as day on her face and when I met her eyes, I hated what I saw. Shame. Regret. Humiliation. All the things I didn’t want her to feel. All reasons I kept asking if she was sure last night.
Groaning, I sink lower into the water and start moving in the direction of the built-in waterfall. It’s the only place I haven’t checked yet, and I’m praying to god I find her on the other side. I’m not the type of guy that normally talks this kind of shit out—I don’t need to since I don’t make a habit of fucking my friends—but I need to make things right with Jordan. Even if she never wants to speak to me again after this, we need to clear the air and gain some sort of normalcy back in our friendship. If we don’t, people will know something is up.
Like I suspect Savanna already does.
The pool area, and the pool itself, isn’t that busy. Given that it’s only Wednesday, I guess that doesn’t surprise me, but I am grateful for it. I’ll bet by the weekend the population in this place doubles. Today the quiet works in my favor. I can see one lone person through the water rushing from its ledge overhead, and mygut tells me that person is Jordan.
Ducking under the waterfall pouring from above, I move into the space beyond, rubbing my hands over my face to rid myself of the droplets threatening my eyes. When my vision is clear, one corner of my mouth turns up at the sight before me.
With her legs hanging in the water and her hands in her lap, she sits there in her pretty yellow bikini, scowling at me. Apparently she didn’t want to be found, least of all by me.
“Go away, Liam.”
Glancing around her little hideout, I wonder how long she’s been here and how cold she is. With the overhead manmade rocks and the water coming down, there’s not a lick of sun that shines in these parts, and the air is cool. Cooler than it is on the rest of the pool deck anyway. The water is warm though, so perhaps she hasn’t been sitting on the edge that long.
“No can do,” I tell her, moving in her direction. When I reach the ledge beside her, I pull myself out of the water, turning around to sit next to her.
“I do not want to talk to you,” she says, sliding off of the edge and into the water.
As she moves, however, something catches my eye and in a flash I’m back in the water with her. “Whoa, whoa. Hold up.”
Now, I love women. I may not want to be in a relationship with one, but I love them. They’re beautiful, capable, and can see the world in different ways than a man can. Generally, when it comes to them, I try not to be a dick. They know what the score is, I’m not rough unless I’ve got consent, and I try not to touch unless invited.
But I make an exception in this moment.
Grabbing Jordan under her arms, I lift her back up onto the edge of the pool as she cries out in protest. “Liam! Stop! What areyou doing?”
“Hold the fuck on,” I tell her, but it’s not in the same demanding voice I used with her last night. Today it’s filled with concern.
The tops of her thighs are battered with bruises. An entire line of them from one thigh to the next. My eyes have to be deceiving me because I know for certain they weren’t there last night.
Tilting my head up, I find her watching me assess her. A gentle curiosity meets me as her chin tucks in and she chews on her bottom lip. Tentatively, she reaches out, touching one of the scratches on my chest.
“We both did a number on the other,” she says quietly.
I exhale. “Fuck.”
Nate would fucking kill me if he knew.
Giving her a once over, I stop at her sides. I didn’t touch the bruises on her thighs, but now I finger the mark I find on her hip. One, two, three, four. And I’ll bet the fifth one is just outside my vantage point. Fingerprints.Myfingerprints. I don’t generally get to see the results my handiwork has on the women I sleep with, so I’m a little caught off guard by the discoloration of her skin.
“Do they hurt?” I ask, bringing my eyes back to hers.
She laughs, shaking her head. “Not really. Not like certain other parts.”
I wish I could laugh like she is right now, but I’m completely somber. Eyebrows furrowed, I place my hands on the ledge on either side of her, my chest half an inch away from her knees. “Jor, seriously. Did I hurt you?”
“How much do these hurt?” She pokes at one of the cuts just above my nipple.
