It also feels like being wanted so completely that my body has nowhere left to hide.
His hand slides around my front and finds my clit. My knees nearly buckle.
“Jordan.”
“Let me have it,” he says against my ear. “I want to feel you come around me like this.”
His fingers circle, firm and relentless, and his thrusts deepen. The pleasure builds too fast, rushing through me with every stroke, every rough sound he makes, every possessive pull of his hands on my hips.
I come hard, shaking over the table, his name breaking out of me as my body locks around him.
Jordan follows with a harsh groan against my shoulder, holding himself deep while the last of my strength turns to water.
For a while, neither of us moves.
Then he kisses the back of my neck and eases out of me with careful hands, turning me into his arms before my legs can betray me.
“You all right?” he asks.
I press my face to his chest. “Your office furniture should be terrified.”
A low sound moves through him, almost a laugh. “It has been in danger since the day you walked in.”
That should make me blush.
It does.
After a shower that stays mostly respectable because Jordan has iron self-control and I have thighs made of jelly, we orderbreakfast to the suite. Before the tray arrives, he cleans the table by the window with an expression so serious I almost ask if he plans to apologize to it too.
I do not, because I like living.
A few minutes later, we sit there with coffee, eggs, and the kind of eye contact that makes toast feel suspiciously intimate.
“So,” I say, poking at my toast, “what do people do before a rehearsal dinner?”
“Whatever you want.”
“That is a risky answer to give a woman currently trapped in a wedding weekend with her sister, her ex, and the rest of her family.”
My phone rings before I can turn that sentence into a proper spiral.
Mom.
My stomach drops instinctively.
Jordan’s expression changes the second he sees my face.
I answer carefully. “Hi, Mom.”
“Where are you?” she snaps.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Lydia needs you. Now.”
I sit straighter. “What happened?”
A sharp breath crackles over the line. “Wesley called off the wedding.”
